I'm telling you guys, it is best to build a core of loyal folks asap. Confidantes are useful for expeditions, rituals, material support, and in cases of breaking away from a cult, surviving and more importantly skipping the hassle of training up a bunch of rank novices. Also, a Wick without a lot of favors and preexisting allies is a Wick who dies in the first movie.
Earth Bet: House of the Sun (Cultist Simulator/Worm)
- Thread starter Witherbrine26
- Start date
-
- Tags
- cultist simulator worm horror
[X] Plan Shift in Personality
[X] Aiding the cult to the best of our ability
Not to mention if they focus on their own Lores, we could use them to train us up as well later on- since we skipped the self-study Learning Bonuses we could've picked to start out. For very good reasons, admittedly- Earth Bet, after all- but still. This isn't a Velvet Covers master of self study situation.
[X] Aiding the cult to the best of our ability
Not to mention if they focus on their own Lores, we could use them to train us up as well later on- since we skipped the self-study Learning Bonuses we could've picked to start out. For very good reasons, admittedly- Earth Bet, after all- but still. This isn't a Velvet Covers master of self study situation.
- Location
- USA
Well, here we go again!
I like the idea of relationships with our fellow advisors, so:
[X] Aiding the cult to the best of our ability
I like the idea of relationships with our fellow advisors, so:
[X] Aiding the cult to the best of our ability
Vote Closed
New
Winning Vote:
[X] Plan: Hidden training.
-[X] On work and the challenges it entails.
--[X] You'll work your hours and no more (Gain no extra actions, default)
-[X] On the goal. (All of the following options are suspicious. This only applies if you are caught)
--[X] Do some research, watch some tapes of the fighting (Minor suspicion)
-[X] On furthering the cause.
--[X] Train the fodder, get them up to snuff
-[X] On learning the Lores.
--[X] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
---[X] Moth
-[X] The Mansus, a place of contradictions. It calls to you, reach out.
--[X] Explore the Woods and it's many secrets
[X] Plan: Hidden training.
-[X] On work and the challenges it entails.
--[X] You'll work your hours and no more (Gain no extra actions, default)
-[X] On the goal. (All of the following options are suspicious. This only applies if you are caught)
--[X] Do some research, watch some tapes of the fighting (Minor suspicion)
-[X] On furthering the cause.
--[X] Train the fodder, get them up to snuff
-[X] On learning the Lores.
--[X] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
---[X] Moth
-[X] The Mansus, a place of contradictions. It calls to you, reach out.
--[X] Explore the Woods and it's many secrets
Time for a merry jaunt through the woods, we must become the spookiest assassin after all if we want to sneak up on Ziz...
Turn 1 - Results, Part 1
New
[X] Plan: Hidden training.
-[X] On work and the challenges it entails.
--[X] You'll work your hours and no more (Gain no extra actions, default)
-[X] On the goal. (All of the following options are suspicious. This only applies if you are caught)
--[X] Do some research, watch some tapes of the fighting (Minor suspicion)
-[X] On furthering the cause.
--[X] Train the fodder, get them up to snuff
-[X] On learning the Lores.
--[X] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
---[X] Moth
-[X] The Mansus, a place of contradictions. It calls to you, reach out.
--[X] Explore the Woods and it's many secrets
-[X] On work and the challenges it entails.
--[X] You'll work your hours and no more (Gain no extra actions, default)
-[X] On the goal. (All of the following options are suspicious. This only applies if you are caught)
--[X] Do some research, watch some tapes of the fighting (Minor suspicion)
-[X] On furthering the cause.
--[X] Train the fodder, get them up to snuff
-[X] On learning the Lores.
--[X] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
---[X] Moth
-[X] The Mansus, a place of contradictions. It calls to you, reach out.
--[X] Explore the Woods and it's many secrets
There weren't that many people here. Your Cult was small, no more than a handful of people who could actually hold their own in a fight. But you were determined. You weren't just going to let them flounder in their weaknesses; you were going to mold them, shape them into something resembling fighters. However, it was going to take time and effort; you could easily tell that just by looking at them.
"Are you ready to learn?" you boomed, your voice filling the gym with a commanding presence. The group of unconditioned members nodded, their expressions ranging from nervous to vaguely determined. It wasn't much, but it was something to work with.
[Training the Fodder: Breakpoints 20/50/80]
[Roll: 36+17(Martial)+1(GRAIL) = 54]
"Drop down and give me five!" you roared, watching with satisfaction as they scrambled to the floor. The gym echoed with the sound of bodies hitting the ground and strained breaths as they began their pushups. Some could barely manage, their arms trembling under their own weight, gasping for air like fish out of water. You kept your expression neutral, though internally, you were already calculating who would need the most work.
This gym had been a lucky find, and you wouldn't waste the opportunity. You'd secured access to it for the sole purpose of turning these ragtag cultists into something more, something that could fight. You scanned the line as the men and women rose shakily to their feet after completing their meager five pushups.
One person in the back was slower than the others, but you held back from calling them out just yet. You couldn't afford to break them too soon. Not yet. Numbers were scarce, and you needed every warm body to stick around. You weren't quite sure how they were recruited, but scaring them away wasn't an option.
"Follow me!" you shouted, setting off at a slow, deliberate jog around the gym's inside. Laps were simple, basic, but effective. Stamina was the foundation of everything else, and if they couldn't handle a few laps, you'd know where to start. Their feet shuffled behind you, a clumsy rhythm of sneakers hitting the floor, but at least they were moving.
"Do you remember what we've been told?" you called out over your shoulder, your voice loud and booming, reverberating off the gym's walls. "Things end. Things are destroyed. And today, we're going to destroy your weakness!" Your words hit them like a jolt of electricity, and you could see some of them pick up the pace, spurred on by the promise of breaking free from their limitations. They were cultists, after all—people already primed to follow, to believe in something larger than themselves. You were simply directing that belief toward self-improvement. You'd let the others figure out the bigger goals, and your job here today was to get them somewhat in shape.
As you glanced back, you noticed the fat man trailing behind the rest, his face red and slick with sweat. He was already flagging, his steps slowing as doubt crept into his eyes. You could see it—the fear, the temptation to quit. This was where you had to act.
"You!" you shouted, pointing directly at him. "Speed up!" You watched him flinch, his feet stumbling as if your words had physically struck him. You could see he was on the verge of giving up, but you weren't going to let him. Not yet. You jogged back toward him, slowing your pace until you ran alongside him, close enough to catch the stink of his sweat and exhaustion. Beneath that, though, you sensed a spark. A tiny ember of potential, waiting to be fanned into something more.
"Do you want to just sit on your ass forever?" you demanded, your voice low but biting. He kept his eyes forward, but you could tell your words were sinking in. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his body was screaming for rest, but you weren't about to let him off the hook.
You leaned in closer, letting your voice drop to a cruel whisper. "Do you want to lay there like a tub of lard, wasting away while you slowly die? Is that what you want?"
His reaction was immediate—his face twisted in anger, his body stiffening as if bracing for a physical blow. Your words hit him like a hammer, jabbing at his insecurities. But instead of crumbling, he snarled. It was barely more than a wheeze, a croak of defiance, but it was there. The spark.
"No!" he rasped, the word guttural and full of raw emotion. It wasn't loud, but it was enough.
You allowed yourself the faintest hint of a smile, something just for him to see. He caught it, and you saw the flicker of hope ignite in his eyes. That tiny acknowledgment—no matter how small—pushed him to dig deeper. He picked up his pace, his legs pumping harder, sweat pouring down his face as he fought against his body's limits.
Good. You had him now. And you knew this was just the beginning. You'd have to do this with every single one of them, find their breaking points, push them past it by just a smidge, and then rebuild them stronger. It wouldn't be easy, but nothing worth doing ever was. At least now you could see a foundation taking shape—a weak one, but a start nonetheless.
You sped up again, catching up to the rest of the group, your voice sharp as you barked out more commands. "Move it, maggots! You think you'll improve by wandering around like a bunch of slugs?" This would take time and effort, but you were never one to shy away from that.
You have improved the Cult followers' combat skills. +1 on tests that require physical strength, and personal combat
You were a bit surprised that the bar was actually open today. You had assumed the place was just a front for the cults business, a perpetually closed bar due to the economic turmoil the United States was facing. Then again, a source of income was good, and hiding in plain sight was a valid strategy. Most of the crime here was loud and flashy to attract attention from the heroes. A small bar that was on the edge of failing wasn't something to notice.
Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. The bar was mostly empty, save for a handful of patrons scattered about nursing drinks and lost in their own worlds. Their tired, hollow eyes suggested that they were here to drink and forget about the wider world for a time. This was not a place for the happy. You could also smell the faint aroma of stale smoke and spilled bears, the kind of aroma that clung to these sorts of places.
You hesitated at the entryway, your eyes turning to the bar counter. You weren't a heavy drinker, but a faint numbing of alcohol would likely be very useful when dealing with your Master. You could also take a few minutes to chat with Anatoly. He likely wouldn't say all that much, but a few words could go a long way.
So, you made your way to the bar and took a seat on the worn-out stool; the leather cracked and faded from years of use. You raised a hand, catching Anatoly's eye from across the bar, signaling him to come over. His expression was unreadable as always, that eternal stoic face that had probably seen too much to react to much of anything anymore.
"Morning," you said, your voice cutting through the low hum of the bar. "Something light, please."
Anatoly gave you a brief nod, his movements efficient as he filled a glass from one of the taps. The drink was foamy, a pale amber color swirling in the glass as he set it in front of you. You took a small sip, feeling the faint burn as it went down your throat, followed by a mild warmth settling in your chest. It was good—smooth, with just enough bite to let you know it was working, but light enough not to fog your mind too quickly.
That was the important part. You were here to talk to the Master, and a little fortification would help with the nerves, but getting drunk would be a mistake. So you took another sip as it traveled down your throat, warming your chest.
"How are things going?" you asked casually, glancing at Anatoly as he wiped down the counter, his hand moving in practiced, rhythmic motions. He paused for a moment as if considering how much to share. Then, he gave you a noncommittal shrug and wiggled his hand in a so-so motion.
"Same as always," he replied gruffly, his accent thick. "People drink, complain. Nothing new."
You nodded, not really expecting anything more than that. Small talk with Anatoly was always like this—minimal, to the point, but you could understand him easily. You took another sip of your drink, letting the warmth spread through you as you prepared for the conversation to come. Although that might not be the best word, it would be a lesson. You were going to sit at the feet of your Master and learn one of the nine Lores she had spoken about.
"Well, it's best I head up," you remarked to nobody in particular, but Anatoly reached out and stopped you as you went to pull out your wallet.
"On the house," he told you, and you weren't one to turn down free drinks as you put your wallet away.
"Thank you."
"Good luck," he replied as he returned to wiping down the counter while you started climbing the stairs past the employee's only door. The stairs creaked under your feet as you entered the area where your body shivered and your skin prickled with goosebumps, but you knew that if you checked the temperature, it wouldn't have dropped a single digit. This was just your body's reaction to the dominion of one who is great, one who could end you.
You entered the room, pushing open the door before closing it quietly behind you. Your footsteps were quiet on the wooden floor; despite its appearance, there wasn't a single creak from the seemingly old wood. Without anybody else in here, the silence was almost oppressive, seeming to bear down on you with an almost physical weight.
You ignore that, though, and take your place on the floor, crossing your legs as you breathe in deeply. Meeting the Master always required preparation, and while the alcohol downstairs had given you a bit of a kick start, it wasn't going to be enough. You focus on the rhythm of your breath, the in and out as you breathe. In and out. Steadying yourself. Centering yourself. The room feels cold, but not from any physical chill—something deeper, more unsettling.
"You've come for knowledge?" The voice that sliced through the silence is cold and harsh, sharp like a blade. It sent a jolt through you, making your heart race as your eyes slowly opened. The tone doesn't match your Master's youth; it never does. There's something wrong with the sound—too hard, too cruel. You steady your heart, forcing your breathing to remain calm and even.
You focus on her, looking her in the eyes. She is short, less than an inch taller than you, even while you are seated. Her physical body doesn't matter, though. Her presence is looming and fills the room with an almost malevolent cold that stings your throat as you breathe.
Her eyes are what you focus on; it's a mistake, but you had been raised to do that. They burn with a cold flame, not the sizzling warmth of a campfire but a cruel flickering fire that consumes everything it touches. You slowly move your gaze away, a motion that feels both relieving and painful, like part of you is happy to stop looking at that fire while another part fears taking your eyes off her.
You have spoken to her one-on-one before. Each time, you come away feeling raw, like you had stood on the edge of a precipice as howling winds scraped over your skin. However, you know that feeling, you've felt that feeling before, so you reply.
"Yes," you manage, your voice soft but firm, though your throat feels dry. "I wish to know more of Moth."
The reaction is instant, and it makes you flinch. There's a low sound from the Master, something primal and guttural. For a second, you think it's a growl, like some wild animal about to pounce. But no, it's worse. It's a laugh—a deep, dark chuckle that seems to crawl out from her throat and echo in the cold room. The sound sends a shiver down your spine, your skin prickling with goosebumps. She begins to pace, her small feet making no sound as she circles you, her eyes raking over your form, scrutinizing every inch of you.
"That is your first mistake," she says, her words carrying a weight that lands like a physical blow. It rings in your ears and reverberates in your mind. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to keep breathing, even as you feel the cold chill of fear creeping up the back of your neck. It's a normal fear that you tell yourself.
"You don't learn Moth," she continues, her voice lowering into something almost hostile, though still so high-pitched it should have sounded childish. It doesn't. There's nothing innocent about it. "You don't sit down and study it at a desk like a schoolchild. You live it. You let it consume you, let it wash over you and carry you in its wake, helpless and without resistance." Her pacing quickens, circling tighter around you, and though you don't dare turn your head to follow her movements, you feel her presence looming closer, especially when she passes behind you. Your whole body tenses, instincts screaming that she could tear out your throat in an instant if she wanted to.
"And instead," she continues, her voice dangerously soft, "you must listen."
She stops pacing. You can feel her presence directly behind you, even though she's out of sight. Your heart is hammering in your chest, but you keep still, barely holding back the urge to flinch. Then, suddenly, she barks, "Lie down!"
Your body reacts before your mind even processes the command. In an instant, you're flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Your pulse thunders in your ears, and it's all you can do to remain still, to not leap up and run. You feel fear, like a physical presence in the room, sitting heavy on your chest, but you do as she commands.
"Listen to me," she commands, her voice softer now, almost a whisper, but no less intense. "Do nothing but listen. Hear the house cry out. Feel its yearning, feel the want, let it take you away."
And then, the sounds begin. Inhuman sounds. Words, if they were even words, spill from her mouth, but they aren't meant for human ears. They twist and writhe, filling the space like a gust of wind tearing through the rafters above, as if the house itself is alive and crying out as winds course through its arteries and veins. The sound seems to move around you, pressing down on you from all sides. You feel the vibration in your bones, and your skin tingles with the overwhelming sensation of being pulled under, like you're sinking into something dark and bottomless.
A tear slips down your cheek without you realizing it. Your fingers twitch involuntarily, spasming as though they've been disconnected from your will. The urge to get up and flee rises in you like a wave, but it crashes uselessly against the iron grip of fear that holds you in place.
You're unsure how much time passes—it could be minutes, hours, or a lifetime. But eventually, the sounds fade, leaving behind only the ringing silence. Slowly, carefully, you push yourself back up into a sitting position, your body weak and shaky from the ordeal. You look around, and the room is empty. Your Master is gone, leaving behind nothing but the faint ringing echo of her presence and the lingering chill in the air.
You slowly rise back into a sitting position, breathing in and out as your heart rate slows and the hair on the back of your neck settles back down. Then you rise to your feet, a bit stranger and a bit more knowledge before you depart.
There are still things to do.
Your Master has spoken of chaos and the change it brings. You've listened to the sounds that wild yearning makes and learned something about the dark and fluttering aspect of Moth. Gain 1 scrap of Moth Lore
Moth lore has reached level 1
In which a Wolf-Name attempts to teach the Dappled Lore.
Most likely, she is 'One who is Great'. A Name or Long. Most likely the Flower-Girl, Name of the Wolf Divided, who seeks the ending of all things, and then itself.
It is hatred and pain and suffering personified, the wound that claws at itself for the brief reprieve from agony that the fresh injury causes, only for the worsened torture to return far worse than before- ever worsening its own state and seeking to spread this eternal unmaking to every thing that exists.
As its Name, she serves it and shares its purpose. Winter and Edge in one.
She is not kind. Is not caring. Is not gentle. She is the harshness, sharp cut, and pain of Edge, with the harsh cold, and eternal ending of Winter- a girl that was ended, but is not quite dead. She has not the vitality of Heart, nor the personableness of Grail, she lacks the zest for life they both bring. She lacks the yearning for greater things of Moth, or the enlightening acknowledgment of Lantern. She does not create, save it be to wound and cut and cause further suffering.
This is who she is, and who she must always be- or she could not be the Flower-bearing girl- that Name of Winter and Edge. Of the Wolf Divided.
That hope was dead before it could even be conceived, I'm afraid- unless the Author has taken some special liberties with the Lore I'm unaware of. I'm sorry to have to break it to you, but Lantern is not a merciful light- and truth is harsh and Merciless.
Last edited:
That said, Spoilers mate! We could have let the QM dash their dreams in a suitably dramatic fashion IC!
Ah! I apologize. Should I spoiler it? I had heard someone mention a previous Quest by the same author and made assumptions about the general knowledge of the world- or at least The Wolf.
That aside, Earth Bet feels like a World near-Consumed by Wolf already. Giving any inch to that creature for the sake of dramatic irony and whimsical narration feels… unwise? Certainly far from the most intelligent of choices.
The sooner we can subvert the Cult- if possible- or better yet, banish the Flower-Girl and take her place, or even set up one of our fellow Cultists to take her place, the better off the world-at-large will likely be…
Varder
Tired Cultist
- Location
- Hell
I've no knowledge about Worm and barely any about Cultist Simulator - from all of the two hours of my playthrough and different quests on this site, so this doesn't actually spoil that much for me, don't worry.
That said, I kinda assumed that a random fledgling cult in the middle of a proverbial nowhere won't have such big names leading it - I didn't consider she could be this wolrd-threat level entity. I thought her to be merely a more advanced mortal cultist.
That depends on the state of the Hours, if they can't be reached, are dead or busy trying to keep everything from collapsing because to the Warrior then we have a problem.
The Wolf is the only Hour that can't die without very specific circumstances(a version of the Second Dawn or the End of everything) so unless he is caged he will be a problem in some way.
The Wolf is very likely to just go along with it if he knew about the Cycle, since it would destroy every Earth(and maybe all Histories) in the end. Unless he needs to be the one to End the World for him to be able to die.
About taking over the Cult, we need to take the inner circle first so we don't have anyone contesting us or making a splinter(we might also want to avoid a Copper situation). The way to that is by constantly socialing the other advisors as much as we can.
Of course that may also turn the Master into an Enemy and we already have one so better deal with Alicja first(no Corrivality, please).
Just because it would have been better for Wolf to resign himself to waiting for the cycle to end doesn't mean he would have done so. His nature is too self-destructive for him to act completely consistently even for his own good.
I don't think we should act so rudely unless absolutely necessary. Much better would be to provoke her self-destructive impulses (which is hardly difficult given how her ascension happened) and force her to fight the Endbringers or attack the Triumvirate.
In the first case she'll likely be killed in the second she'll be put in a birdcage. Either way the problem will either self-correct or eliminate our other problem.
Witherbrine26 Which principle would better provoke self-destructive impulses? A grail to provoke already existing desires or a moth to summon madness?
Who said he would wait? He might even make Zion snap earlier if he can to take advantage of the opportunity.
The Wolf is actually the most predictable Hour, all he wants is to die so all his actions are intended to make that goal a reality. His self-destructiveness is in the literal sense not in the "I make my life a mess by self-sabotaging" sense, he has only one desire and he is good when he can work on it so if he finds a sure-fire way to reach the End he will take it no matter what.
Can you explain why that would be considered rude? Because befriending the other advisors is not really an act of betrayal(at least not at first, we need to plant the seeds if we want Michael to betray the Master).
Uh, Names aren't really easy to kill and if neither the Endbringers or Cauldron can use the lores that becomes even harder(oh god imagine if Zion can learn the lores). The Master is also a Winter Name, a Wolf Winter Name, that means she has a "special" relationship with death and the Wolf part might make this worse if he ordered her to go to the Wake for him(or if he approves of what she's doing).
We also don't know if she is fully in the Wake or projecting from the Mansus.
Containment is more plausible, but the Birdcage was made to hold Parahumans, not Names and she might recruit when she is there(the Faerie Queen could be particularly vulnerable due to her closeness with death). The lores being spread to the inmates is also worrying in this case, since a Knock ritual could make a way out and we would have occultist criminals around.
I can't think of canonical examples both confirming this opinion and refuting it. Therefore, for now I will remain in the position that the creature hates itself and the world will be quite unstable.
A crude method would be direct betrayal if we could eliminate the master with someone else's hands.
Well, first of all, I think you forget that this is a crossover and not the insertion of one setting element into another. This means that firstly, Entities already know about the existence of Manas and everything related to it, since they have scanned the earth and all parallel realities. Secondly, they must have a way to deal with the forces of Mansus since they were able to capture earth and all parallel realities, and it would be strange if the Endringers did not have these methods.
Even if this is all true, then let someone else check all these assumptions for us, and not we will experience them the hard way.
No, it means that our cult will have recruits of criminal occultists. At least, I don't see any reason yet why the Master will share knowledge with those who will not be recruited into the cult.
Grail, you can use a Moth ritual but with Grail you can just walk up to somebody and talk them into it.
1. Would you like Lore about Worm? It had been an obsession of mine for a good 4 years. :3
2. I wouldn't say she's world-ending on her own… but that depends on if the other Hours and Names and Long are still around and actively interfering to prevent the end times. Which… is a worryingly minor possibility, considering the state of the world. Unless the rest are trapped in the Mansus somehow and only the Flower-Girl escaped… Not impossible, but concerning if it's true.
That is a titanic assumption of how Entities and the Mansus interact here.
If the Entities did not win or at least did not dominate this conflict, then they simply would not be able to start the cycle.
It's hard to imagine that someone from Hours would be happy with intruders who brazenly manipulate parallel universes, find out other people's secrets and arbitrarily destroy the status quo in communities. So conflict is inevitable here.
Yeah, conflict is inevitable. We are part of it right now. But there's nothing indicating that they had to dominate the Mansus to start the Cycle. We have no information on either end as to how the settings interact because we are a wee scrub of a cultist. We have no info on how the QM is melding things. The only thing it is safe to assume is that the Master really hates all of us, but hates the Endbringers more.
Bakkasama
There is always a greater fool
- Location
- Buenos Aires, Argentina
- Pronouns
- He/his
Wait. So you thought that the cult was being led by a child? I could understand it if the Master looked like an adult but...