polymods: (Default)
polymods ([personal profile] polymods) wrote in [community profile] polylogs2021-05-01 03:00 pm

Destination: Carcosa

POLYMYTHOS: CARCOSA

Carcosa


Ⅰ. THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The island's harbour is full of other ships, although not a single one of them seems to actually have a human being aboard. (You could certainly try to steal one, but doing so is an exercise in futility - you will find that even if you set off into the ocean you will wind up right back in the harbour again after spending a few hours lost in the fog.) Beyond the harbour is a glittering city of glass and gold. Curving arches and sharp geometric lines are the hallmarks of the architecture - an art deco paradise that whispers of decadence and hope for the future.

The people who crowd the streets wear suits and hats, drop-waist dresses and furs. Their faces are all blank smiles. It's the roaring twenties, darling, why do you look so concerned?

If it is your first experience of the Endless Isles, you have access to the High Temple. Should you wish, you may also seek out the island's own temple as well, which is located inside the city, in a district mostly forgotten by the residents. Don’t worry - your feet will carry you there.

The building is not large, and it is old and neglected. It has a domed ceiling, with panels of glass crisscrossed with metal painted gold curving upward. Whatever fine pattern may have formed there is lost to time; the glass at the centerpoint of the dome is gone, letting in the smell of the sea.

There are rooms equipped with beds spreading out like a spiderweb from the middle of the building. The temple proper is of course in the exact center, below the broken dome. In the middle of this circular room you will find dead branches gathered together to make a vaguely humanoid shape. This crude figure has been haphazardly painted yellow. A slab of concrete sits in front of it. There is not much to explore here; it is very quiet.

Either temple is a good place to simply rest, or meet some of your fellow Travelers. The High Temple of course has the Temple Chef and its usual Guardians, Flock, and Lantern.

The Island Temple has its own Guardians, which are small, pale humanoids with perfectly blank faces and small antlers like young deer. They will leave you alone unless you try to meddle with the central room. Doing so will result in one of them approaching you, and you will find yourself falling unconscious on the floor.



Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
Through happenstance, you find yourself in an enormous ballroom. Low couches are dotted everywhere, and a live band plays somewhere at the end of the massive space. A long bar takes up one side of the room, bottles sparkling under the light cast from the many cut-glass chandeliers hanging overhead. Champagne flows freely, and the scent of gin pervades the air.

All of the attendees are wearing masks.

You're dressed for the occasion, of course - you will find yourself wearing something reminiscent of 1920s America, with a small yellow sigil of some sort pinned to your breast. Ask any of the guests about it and they will tell you, "ah, it's a secret." You too, of course, are wearing a mask. You did not pick this mask, but if you look in the mirror hung over the bar you will find that it nonetheless hints at some aspect of your personality.

Which would be all well and good, except that you can't take the bloody thing off.

Moving around the ballroom, you will discover that a few other people also have the yellow sigil pinned to their clothing. It probably shouldn't surprise you that these people are all other Travelers, equally unable to take their mask off.

No, you can't unmask until you share something with your new-found friend: a secret. A REAL one, the sort you'd never speak aloud.

Of course, you can choose not to share. If you choose that route, however, you'll find that the mask is fusing with your skin. Leave it on past midnight when the cries of "UNMASK! UNMASK!" begin, and it will simply become your new face for the duration of the month.



Ⅲ. THE PLAY
Maybe parties aren't your style. No fear, there's plenty more to do and see in such a wondrous city. There's a theatre - the Meliora Grand as a matter of fact - and perhaps you're just the sort of person who would like to take in the arts.

The theatre has plush seats, and fabulous electric sconces lining the wall. Once you take your seat you'll find yourself looking at the stage, where a blood-red velvet curtain hangs. The theatre doesn't seem to fill up - indeed, it really seems that there's only you and one or two other people there. Curious.


The lights go down and the curtain is drawn open, revealing... well. Not much.

There are two chairs on the stage, a table between them. On the table lays a pallid face: a mask. Just a mask. Why not go on up and take a closer look?

Should you choose to touch the mask, you will feel a deep urge to speak to whoever else is in the theatre. You will, in fact, feel the desire to act out some sort of emotional trauma with them. Perhaps they suddenly look like your mother, your father, a lover who left you. Why don't you tell them how you really feel?

Naturally, you can both just sit in awkward silence instead. You'll be waiting until the morning to be let out, if that's the case.



Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA
CW: the undead.
You find yourself walking along the beach at night. Along the shore the cloud-waves break, and black stars rise above you.

You can't quite pinpoint when you realise you are no longer alone. Maybe there is only one other person on the beach with you, or perhaps a few; you move as one down the expanse of sand until you realise there is something laying up ahead of you.

There is a heap of yellow cloth there, dry and tattered with age. It smells faintly of spices. Nestled among it is a jewel-encrusted human skull. Its empty sockets compel you to sit down in the cool, bone-white sand, to sit and speak to those around you about loss.

Everyone has lost something important to them. A person, a thing, a place, an aspect of the self. Something that's gone and you're never getting back. The skull grins endlessly, endlessly, encouraging you to speak about something you may not have laid to rest.

You can resist this compulsion. Maybe you were never good at sharing. Refuse the skull's silent request and you may continue down along the beach, or perhaps head back the way you came. As you walk, however, you will notice that there is a fog rolling in. It comes in off the sea/sky, obscuring the beach until you can barely see.

It's a terribly handy cover for the corpses that are shambling out of the surf. Wet, bloated, with eyes that glow a dim gold, they head for you silently. They wish to drag you back with them, into the depths. Better hope you can outrun or outfight them.

Bonus: What's that? You want a Carcosa playlist? You've got it, babes!


Network · Logs · OOC · Memes · Plurk

necrosaint: (051)

[personal profile] necrosaint 2021-05-26 03:52 am (UTC)(link)
Harrowhark shakes her head; it takes her a second to recall that most people expect words. Words she reserves for those she holds at arm's length, msot of the time—because in her case, anyone else is kept at even further length.

But this woman ... creature? has been kind to her, and she owes, perhaps, the simplest of explanations.

"No, I am—will be— fine. It is an effect of overuse of my necromancy; I have been trying to ward the bed so I can rest and the wards aren't taking is all." Clearly her new companion understands the use of magic, so she may as well be frank. "Thank you, though," is soft and polite. Harrow does have good manners. She is an excellent Reverend Daughter; she was raised properly. (She was not raised properly, but she was raised to be proper.)
directrix: (smile:  small)

[personal profile] directrix 2021-05-26 04:15 am (UTC)(link)
[ She arches a brow. ]

Do I seem like the frivolities type?

[ In truth, she looks like the stiff, old-fashioned, upper class type. She comes across a little distant and a little cold, and she doesn't care if that's the impression she gives. ]

No. I'll probably stay here for the evening.
directrix: (smile:  faint)

[personal profile] directrix 2021-05-26 04:40 am (UTC)(link)
Zelda's moral compass has been somewhat bent for the past several centuries now. Some persuasive torture wouldn't even rank all that high on the list. If not for the crowd, she might even volunteer to help. Or she might not.

She doesn't want to be here, but she doesn't want to be home either. There's still grieving to do and a Goddess who refuses to answer her prayers and bring back her niece. She downs the rest of her drink and motions for another.

"Zelda Spellman," she offers in return, satisfied they seem to be in agreement. "Where were you before the boat?"
vladpire: (Tired - 1)

[personal profile] vladpire 2021-05-26 10:28 am (UTC)(link)
There was a scent to pain, even emotional pain, much as there was to fear, sorrow, joy, arousal. They left marks that traced the air and he could scent hers as easily as he could hear her blood thrumming along at the pace her heart pushed it at. She wasn't afraid. Not in that moment, anyway. But she was in pain, and pain was something Vlad knew well. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it strengthens in its own way, like callouses built from work and labor. Painful at first, yes, but with time, they shield the skin from worse wounds. Pain is... tricky. It's elusive. It comes in so many forms, it's like trying to catch a thought on the wind."

One last pat, and then he took his hand back. She may not have said anything, but he'd noted the tension. Whether she accepted it or not, it still clearly wasn't something she was entirely comfortable. Pressing the matter wouldn't gain him, or her, anything. "That aside, Sharon, I think souls are hardier things, not so easily worn away from pain and sorrow. Evil can leave a mark, yes. Wicked things done of one's own volition, that's more of a stain on the soul than pain."

Was he talking about himself? Possibly. It was hard not to look back at his life and wonder where he could have changed things.
cryptsleeper: (Judgement by portrait)

[personal profile] cryptsleeper 2021-05-26 01:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[The response comes with a shrug.]

I didn't wish to presume either way. Appearance can mask a great number of things.

[Alucard then offers a polite enough nod.]

Shall I leave you to that then?
mewnifestos: (Default)

[personal profile] mewnifestos 2021-05-26 09:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Well I'll dance a jig in my smallclothes, if they'll let me out of this. But somehow I doubt it's just a reaction they're looking for.

[ It can't be. That would be... pointless, as well as cruel. And while Anders has certainly had enough experience in the human condition to know that's as likely as anything, he still won't accept it. ​]

No, there's always something. We just need to figure out what it is.
mewnifestos: (Default)

[personal profile] mewnifestos 2021-05-26 09:49 pm (UTC)(link)
"You'll have to get them from someone who knows better. I'm fresh out," Anders replies, shrugging as he watches the oddly placid city street pass by. No one here seems to care at all, not for the disheveled strangers running in terror from the suddenly impassably foggy beach, nor for anything else at all.

"I've got a funny feeling we're going to be searching a while for someone who doesn't think all this is perfectly ordinary, actually." Or at least not interesting enough to bother with. Unless those few or any help around here are all hiding out somewhere they've simply overlooked - and that doesn't exactly lighten his spirits in the least - they simply don't seem to exist.

Well, beyond their fellow Travelers, anyway. But Anders is just as reluctant to start looking for leadership among a bunch of lost strangers. At least outside the moment.

"You'd be the first to say so who wasn't well-versed in spells and such." His own smile is thin and not especially light, a rare failure of the careless facade he tries so hard to project. But it doesn't leak into his tone, this time, at least. "Usually it's frightening more than fascinating."
mewnifestos: (Default)

[personal profile] mewnifestos 2021-05-26 09:49 pm (UTC)(link)
My condolences. Mages are much better company, in my experience.

[ By which, of course, he means himself, obviously. ]
unkindled_madness: (melancholy)

[personal profile] unkindled_madness 2021-05-26 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)
I don't mean to suggest observing us is the end goal, although for some men it would be.

[How many pointless exercises has Hojo put him through, just to see what would happen? A rather aimless way of conducting science, it's no wonder the man is condemned to mediocrity.]

But for now, that may be all this place is for, until the Ancient knows us better.
dothelokimotion: (Comfort was the answer to all)

[personal profile] dothelokimotion 2021-05-27 12:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ that's . . . new. ]

Are they now?
bookerlesigh: (considering)

[personal profile] bookerlesigh 2021-05-27 02:57 am (UTC)(link)

It's something else they have in common, if they ever get around to getting that personal- not wanting to be home, isolation and exile lying in wait for Booker, though at least there there's a whole world to disappear into, not just the streets of this island. But there's half as many people to potentially run into here too, and while he has a tentative truce with Nicky, and Nile seems to think they're both idiots... same shit, different bottle.

"All over," he answers vaguely, though it is pretty much true. "Most recently Europe. Grew up in France. Spent a bit of time pretty much everywhere." Joys of living a few centuries, and the curse of never getting older. Had to clear out before people realized there was something off about you. "Yourself?"

bookerlesigh: (considering)

[personal profile] bookerlesigh 2021-05-27 03:06 am (UTC)(link)

Booker's used to being the cause of disappointment, and he wears that mantle well. He's a little less human than the average Joe, but he dies all the same as them, though his deaths are caught in an endless cycle that has him bouncing right back up only to perish again.

Did it matter that the wounds healed quickly if the memory of the pain is scarred across his mind and sown deep into his bones? He's painfully human in all but the one aspect that was most human - a life with an end.

Redemption hasn't crossed his mind yet, though the face of the watch stares up at him balefully. If he had any redemption in him, wouldn't he have found it across all these years?

"Didn't quite read the pamphlet," he admits - if there was a pamphlet, and the equivalent if not; it doesn't really matter, he'll be stuck in this endless hell regardless. "But they don't seem dangerous. Have you eaten already?"

ungodlily: (ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏx)

[personal profile] ungodlily 2021-05-27 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
"People always want to say pain makes you stronger in the end." Her gaze was filled with something raw and old and then she blinked it away. She wasn't dismissing him, just didn't think she had it in her to agree or to try and explain.

After he removed his hand, the tension in her shoulders loosened though didn't quite disappear; she doubted she'd ever feel comfortable enough anywhere here to ever let her guard down enough for that. Still, Vlad's observance and care were a breath of fresh air for her. Most people were unobservant to her discomfort, or worse, simply didn't care. But he was proving he was a better person than most of the people she's met in her life (not that there's a wealth of options there).

"...do you regret the things you've done?"

Do you regret your stains? Because Sharon might have regretted them as just Sharon da Silva, as just those pieces Alessa had deemed worthy of saving and protecting, but now she'd do it all again. She'd do it again if she had to and she'd enjoy it. But she didn't see anything evil or wicked in him, just a man pushing through a lifetime of pain.
aviate: (Default)

[personal profile] aviate 2021-05-27 12:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Their rations are better than most I'll give them that.

[Hal hadn't initially given the other man more than a glance, but his question makes him check again. He can't place the man, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything and he does seem familiar.]

Huh, maybe? Did you ever serve? I used to be in the Air Force.

...or you know people who love capes?

[Look, no one expects subtlety from him.]
combatted: (09.)

[personal profile] combatted 2021-05-27 12:54 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He's about to say no, he was never in the army (and soldiers are always useful to know—) but the second question is right out there. Well, Dick can't exactly hide who his father is. Doesn't especially want to, either, not unless there's not much of another choice. They just got things level again, he's trying to keep in mind that he wants to think well of Bruce. ]

Yeah. Plenty. I'm from Gotham.

[ Dun dun DUN ]
aviate: (( hj ) ehhh)

[personal profile] aviate 2021-05-27 12:54 pm (UTC)(link)
So you're dead, but somehow not any more. [It's far too easy to accept something like that when death was often a temporary condition in their field.] If whatever brought us here is also responsible for your current condition, that's gonna limit how much you can do or get caught doing.
combatted: (05.)

[personal profile] combatted 2021-05-27 12:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Not really.

[ He'd know what to do with a motor. He could rig something, if there were trees, he could make a raft. Shit. If there was any mobile signal at all, what he could do. ]

But if you're in the mood to get acquainted, don't let me stop you.
aviate: (( hj ) don't be mean)

[personal profile] aviate 2021-05-27 12:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Ah.

[Well he feels stupid.]

I talk to more aliens than other humans these days. Must be out of practice.
aviate: (( hj ) awkward)

[personal profile] aviate 2021-05-27 01:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Something to do with my will made real. I don't know exactly how it works.

[Despite having built his own, the details still elude him.]

It's like something made out of solid energy.
aviate: (( gl ) you said what?)

[personal profile] aviate 2021-05-27 01:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[Hal can read between the lines. There is only one reason why someone from Gotham would know him and they're the exact type of person who would continue to be cryptic when he would vastly prefer they stop beating around the bush.]

Then you probably recognise me from the League. Green Lantern.
medeiun: ғʟɪᴇɴ (pic#14830183)

[personal profile] medeiun 2021-05-27 03:07 pm (UTC)(link)
You have more common sense than most humans can claim.

[ Maleficent doesn't hide the dry little touch of scorn there — clearly she doesn't have the most favourable opinion of humankind. But she has seen it, time and time again: how they reach for what they don't understand, and end up not only punished for it, but damaging other innocents in the process. ]

Whomever left this here most certainly intended for others to happen across it. [ It's too elaborate a set-up to just be something that someone carelessly left behind. And she doesn't... like that. What's their reason for putting this here? ]

I believe we should distance ourselves from it, and keep walking. [ There's no guarantee the young woman will come with her, but Maleficent will at least try. ]
combatted: (05.)

[personal profile] combatted 2021-05-27 03:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, yeah,

[ The kind that says, oh boy, they really couldn't send Superman? (Sorry Hal. Dick plays favourites.) But a Green Lantern surely can't be as stuck here as the rest of them, right? His eyes drop to Hal's hand, looking for the telltale ring. ]

Yeah, I know you. I'm Dick Grayson.
medeiun: ɪᴍᴀᴋᴇʀᴘɪᴄᴏɴs (pic#14876263)

[personal profile] medeiun 2021-05-27 04:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[ That is a fair sentiment — and a wise one, admittedly. If she were anyone else, she would say as much, but of course Maleficent just stares at him. Then stares down to the item he holds up, mouth pursing slightly. She is not so fond of a human explaining their Human Things to her, but there's an uncomfortable awareness that she is in the minority, around here. Her fellow Travelers seem to be predominantly human.

It might be wise of her to learn even the slightest things that she can. One never knows when it might come in handy, when she could possibly use it to her advantage. So she does listen to the man explain about these socks. ]


Your kind do chill frightfully easily. [ She agrees, a little flash of dark amusement in her eyes. It almost sounds like an insult (of course it is). She's a prickly one even when she's Learning A Thing. ]

...Cloth upon your head helps in much the same way, does it not? [ She does have a little bit of experience, caring for humans. And she remembers how Aurora had needed warmth upon her head, as an infant. But she hadn't known if it held true for adults, if they continue to lose heat that way as they grow older, through their heads, feet. ]
medeiun: ᴍᴀʟᴀɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ (pic#14830053)

[personal profile] medeiun 2021-05-27 04:43 pm (UTC)(link)
"You aren't familiar with magic?" Maleficent studies him further at that outright clarification, tilting her head at that. His reaction from seeing her own display now further baffles her. Has he been kept from magic? Living amongst humans and not able to tap into what he is, what he can do? (Assuming he has magic, as she isn't certain what manner of creature he is. But he seems like something that would very much have magic running through its veins).

Perhaps he's been.... clipped, figuratively; she's so recently learned of experiments done to the fae folk back home. Perhaps someone got ahold of him, stifled his magic with a dark curse.

"Jazz Age. What an odd term." Jazz? The age of jazz? She isn't familiar with that either, giving a rare, almost comical expression of confusion for Maleficent. "No, this is.... quite different." While she isn't one to share much, she's prompted further by the nature of her present company alone: she'll offer some to him, the way she wouldn't to someone of human appearance.

"Where I am from.... Mankind has begun its progression into the Wood, stealing land from the fae to build structures, but none so... perfected as what can be found in this city. There are castles of stone and wood. Not... gold." This city is gilded in sleek angles and perfection, the likes of which Maleficent has never seen. "And the people do not dress this way." She looks down to her sequinned dress, her exposed legs.

"It seems the people of this Jazz Age are far more frivolous. Dancing about like buffoons."
medeiun: ɪᴍᴀᴋᴇʀᴘɪᴄᴏɴs (pic#14876263)

[personal profile] medeiun 2021-05-27 04:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Something terrible — she can't help but agree, even if silently. Whether they'll be punished now or later for refusing to play along, it seems inevitable there will be some sort of consequence. There's the matter of the bracelets after all; her own is hidden beneath her long sleeve, its glow being orange.

She quirks both brows at that, staring at the man before slowly following his gaze upwards. Getting out... from above? She can fly, certainly, but she's unfamiliar with the structure of building such as this, and simply assumed it would be sealed all the way around. ....Could there be another door to this cage?

"You believe there could be an exit up there?"