Carcosa, pt. 2

[polymods]

✖ Carcosa

Ⅰ. CARCOSA
You Are Still Here.

Another month, and you’re still in the city of Carcosa! Isn’t that just wonderful?

You still have access to the city’s temple and the High Temple.

The side effects you may have suffered from throughout the month of May are now at an end - if you had a pesky mask glued to your face the whole time it will now fall off. You might need a little moisturizer, but otherwise you’ll be just fine.

You could sit around inside the relative safety of the temples, of course, but why not get out there and explore the city some more? Come on, grumpypants!

---

Ⅱ. SPEAK EASY
CW: Optional alcohol consumption.
What kind of pet shop is filled with rambunctious yahoos and hot jazz music at 1 AM? That's right - the best damn pet shop in town! Sidle up to the back door of Curly's Pet Shop and a panel will open enough to reveal a pair of eyes. "What's the password?" you'll be asked. Whatever word first comes to your mind, well, that apparently is correct because you're let in at once.

The front of the building definitely does indeed house fish and birds and kittens, but the back room is definitely not a good place to find a new animal companion; you find yourself in a crowded little room with low lighting and a small bar crammed into one corner. There's seats and some tables, and most importantly there's a band playing jazz music across from the bar.

Why not take a seat and have a drink? It's probably not paint thinner. Probably. Maybe you'll spot some of your fellow Travelers and you can sit and have a chat. Make a new friend who can hold your hair back if you party too hard.

And you better hope that the place doesn’t get raided!

Notes:
1. The drinks are all era-appropriate - you’re not getting Redbull with vodka here - and even if your character has non-human physiology they will work the same as they would on a baseline human. That’s right, your magic or your healing-factor or your vampire blood is no match for these Gin Rickeys!

2. If Curly’s does get raided while you’re there, you can run and hide or choose to engage with the police, who are armed and not too shy about opening fire if you go on the offensive. As with the rest of the regular residents of Carcosa, the officers are human and can be killed. Killing them may affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation. (Is it beneficial to personal growth to kill in order to save someone else, for example? You tell me!)

3. Did you want a pet from the front of the building? Well, just remember that baby turtles and alligators might SEEM like a good idea, but they grow up! Also any animal you take will not travel with you to the next island. So sorry.

---

Ⅲ. EXPRESSIONISM YOURSELF
CW: Optional paranoia, hallucinations.
If you wander the streets at night, you may find yourself getting turned around. You'll find that the streets have lost their many lights, and the beautiful and delicate art deco architecture has given way to something much more stark and heavy. The buildings are block-like, but they curve in exaggerated ways that hurt the eye if looked at too long. All are in blacks and whites and greys. Nothing looks quite real, but you can walk along just fine. Probably better not to go off alone, though.


Periodically you will encounter that pesky sign of some sort painted on the walls. If you follow the sigils, you will eventually be led to a long staircase that winds down and down until it finally terminates in a large white room lit by a few electric lanterns. There's black paint there, with brushes. Maybe you're feeling creative?

Notes:
1. You’re pretty sick of this stupid sigil, aren’t you? In fact, you consider yourself QUITE the detective and have been searching after its meaning! Or maybe you played Call of Cthulhu a lot in college, you nerd!

Painting the sigil on the wall will cause you to feel disoriented and paranoid until you leave the white room. From that point on you can discover a copy of a play entitled The King In Yellow anywhere in the city you choose. Reading the first act of the play has no effect on you, however if you choose to read beyond the first line of the second act you will spend the rest of the month suffering from periodic hallucinations, often of a tall man in a pallid mask.

2. While there is no compulsion to paint, choosing to work out any of your character’s issues through art therapy can be reflected in your Scrywatch colour if it is significant enough.

---

Ⅳ. AS FAR BACK AS I CAN REMEMBER, I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A GANGSTER
CW: Optional gun violence, injury.
Art? Theatre? Music? BAH! Boring!

Maybe your tastes are a little more on the dangerous side? Whatever this island may be, it seems to offer plenty of opportunities to get into the seedy underbelly. Maybe you feel the need to steal a car, rob a bank, transport some illegal hooch for a smiling fellow in a yellow fedora. Grab your tommy guns, kids, it's time to outrun the Feds!

Naturally, you could wind up injured having all of this fun, but surely you could get some help from your fellow Travelers, either directly or by having them haul you to some sort of underground doctor. These doctors do exist, although it might take a while to get referred to one by a local.

You might also find yourself under arrest and stuck in an old-timey jail cell for a month. What fun!

Notes:
1. As was stated in the first prompt, the regular residents of Carcosa are normal humans. Killing them is possible and may affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation. Any weapons you find are era-appropriate.

2. You can break out of jail if you’re resourceful enough.

3. The underground doctors aren’t working in a real hospital for a reason. In fact, some of them might be less doctors and more, well. Vets.

You still jamming to that Carcosa playlist?

Network · Logs · OOC · Memes · Plurk

Comments

[mewnifestos]

"Uh, no. It brought me here from Ferelden. Amaranthine, to be exact." And while he may have to think a little harder to recall the exact year (not a high priority, as important matters of mind go), the 1200s are certainly nowhere near the mark.

"Not that I expect that to ring any bells, here. I haven't met a single other soul who's come from Thedas, let alone even heard of it."

[bookerlesigh]

Even with his rather more extensive-than-most knowledge of geography, Anders is right - Booker has no idea where it is. "Ah," he says, because what else is there to say? Of course the ship would be bringing people from all sorts of places and all sorts of land.

"So they had templars, in Ferelden. But you're not one of them?"

[mewnifestos]

For the first time, Anders seems genuinely offended, expression a harsh mask of distaste. "Of course not.

"I'm a mage. The two are rather incompatible."

[bookerlesigh]

Oh dear. He's gone and said something terrible - a mage doesn't seem too different than a templar, but Booker knows so little about both those things (at least in the light that Anders presents), that he's neither surprised, nor sure exactly where the offense is rooted.

"Sworn enemies?" he asks, hoping to find some clarity and maybe also redeem himself.

[mewnifestos]

Terrible, yes, but not unforgivable. Anders shrugs, leaning on the bars of his cell again. The frown remains, but the brief fire of his offense doesn't linger. Not like he would know, so no real reason to hold it against him.

"It's roughly the same relationship I'm sure you briefly shared with the men who threw you in that cage, over there. Only the accommodations at the Templars' hands are a lot less pleasant, and you never get out."

[bookerlesigh]

"Ah," Booker acknowledges; law and order, more perceived hierarchy than good and evil. It never sits well with him, to hear of entrapment and unsavory accommodations. He's been around enough to know that there's usually two sides to those stories, though he won't bring that up explicitly now.

"And what do mages do to Templars, when they get their hands on them?"

[mewnifestos]

Blegh. Anders makes another face, although this one seems more exaggerated distaste than offense.

"I wouldn't put my hands anywhere near a Templar willingly, personally. I suppose there are the odd outliers, abominations and vindictive blood mages, but they're by far in the minority.

"I'd be happy to let bygones be bygones, if they'd just leave me alone."

[bookerlesigh]

That does make it seem a lot more one sided, and Booker at least feels like this line of questioning is a little safer than the previous one.

"What is it, then, that's got their feathers all riled up?" It's actually a bit fascinating, learning all this stuff from a near stranger.

[mewnifestos]

"Oh, the usual. Oppressive zealotry, righteous blah-blah-blah." Anders can't help but roll his eyes, the dismissive words accompanied by a mocking hand gesture.

"The Chantry says a bunch of mages did a naughty thing some ages ago, so all the rest of us have to pay for it, now."

[bookerlesigh]

"Bastards," Booker agrees, but he's sitting up, because Anders keeps repeating something that's only just finally clicked for him.

"You say you're a mage - the magical kind of mage?"

[mewnifestos]

"I am that," Anders agrees, no longer looking quite so glum. After himself, though (and the injustices of the Circle et al), magic is his favorite topic. (Well, that and the simple agreement in Booker's reply was more than enough to lighten his mood. Not everyone is so understanding.)

"Though I like to think I'm a lot of things, other than just a very magical mage."

[bookerlesigh]

Booker's on his feet now, crossing over to the bars of his cell, intrigued but for a slightly different reason. "And would you be able to magic the locks to these doors open?"

[mewnifestos]

Anders laughs, obviously delighted. "I thought you'd never ask."

He takes a cautious look up and down the row of cells, peering out as far into the aisle between them as he can - but they appear to be in good company still. That is, none but the inebriated and unconscious and on their side of the bars.

Picking locks has never been a talent of his, but destroying them, on the other hand, he's gotten quite good at over the years. A necessity, really, for one with such a penchant for escaping. And the lock on his cell door is little more than iron and steel, not even enchanted or warded the tiniest bit. Child's play.

He reaches past the bars, holding his hand over the hefty lock, a soft blue glow building under his palm. It's less impressive from across the aisle, and with his hand blocking the actual spellwork, but the results speak for themselves. After a moment's unbroken concentration, just the right nudge, something clicks, something snaps, and then with a heavy, iron clunk, the lock lets go. Anders grabs the bars and rolls his door back with a grin.

"Fancy sticking around, or were you hoping to come with?"

[bookerlesigh]

Oh, that was excellent. Booker does the same on his side of the block, checking the sight lines and nodding that they're clear.

It seems like most people here have a nifty trick or quirk, and the soft blue glow that comes from Anders arm has a reassuring look to it. Small, non-threatening -- effective, apparently, as the lock unhitches.

What a lovely sound, wheels along grooves, and Booker grins right back. "I was hoping to come with, if you wouldn't mind," he says with a smile.

He's not too worried about what'll happen when the cops realize they're missing.

[mewnifestos]

Some of his spells are subtler than others - easier to digest, for the less magically inclined. He probably wouldn't have attempted this one if it wasn't, given his lingering uncertainty of the prevailing general opinion on mages, here. At least in his current company, though, it seems just fine.

As long as he's useful, anyway. Not that Anders minds. Useful isn't the worst thing one can be.

"All right," he agrees, taking another cautious look up and down the hall before crossing to the cell opposite his and laying a hand over the lock. "So long as you're buying, once we find our way to whatever passes for a tavern, around here."

It's easier the second time; all these locks seem to be the same, more or less. Hardly any chance of messing it up and leaving him a little more permanently stuck at all! Anders rolls his cell door back just as carefully, once it's open. "Hopefully there's a back way out of here, and we can slip out undetected."

[bookerlesigh]

So long as Anders gets Booker out of here, he can be the god of hell for all he cares at the moment. Booker can make his peace with a bar that's set much lower than useful.

"I know just the place for a good round," Booker answers; though that's the place that got him into this mess initially, but he's never been one to learn from mistakes on the first go around.

It seems to happen quicker, but Booker can't be sure - he's still fascinated by the blue light, and the sudden question of whether or not it generates heat. "Does it hurt?" he has to ask, and he slips out of the cell door, facing Anders so they have a full scope of sight between the both of them.

"There is - they took me round the long way, when I got here." Something about food or a bathroom, Booker had been too busy casing the place. "There's two guards down the hall near the table, a third one in a separate room. That way though," he nods behind him, "There's more cells, a door to get in, and the electrical room. Which means vents, which means we can slip out through them."