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

sketchbookings: (Default)

[personal profile] sketchbookings 2021-06-19 11:38 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Were they more than strangers - or, really, freshly new acquaintances - Benedict might feel compelled to reach over and give Kit some sort of sympathetic touch. A brush against his shoulder, or maybe a brief but solid squeeze of his hand. It doesn't take anyone particular observant to see that Kit's melancholy runs deeper than arriving in a strange place with neither rhyme nor reason. ]

I'd hardly ask you to tell me anything you didn't wish to, just to set us on even playing field. But I'm glad you feel that you can.

[ Even if it's not really Kit's choice, and it's just whatever odd enchantment has settled over them. ]

Perhaps you'll find some new purpose here.
sketchbookings: (Default)

[personal profile] sketchbookings 2021-06-19 11:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Benedict passes the champagne over, having barely taken much of it himself. He wonders what his family might say if they saw him like this, sitting on a beach with warm champagne and drinking straight from the bottle with a very peculiar young woman. ]

London. England. [ In case that wasn't obvious. ] Where there are no cows nor corn nor anything, I think, particularly like America.
mewnifestos: (Default)

[personal profile] mewnifestos 2021-06-20 12:33 am (UTC)(link)
[ Anders doesn't understand half of this mess he's waded into, but he doesn't imagine himself special in that regard. He wouldn't be surprised if Serah Marlowe has a habit of making such illustrious first impressions, on mages or otherwise.

He scoffs, shaking his head as he turns his gaze to the crowd again. Perhaps forlornly eyes another tray of that obnoxious, fizzy drink. If he just bolted now, he could probably catch it. ]


I'm not a creature, first of all. I'm a human being.

[ He's pretty sure he deserves that much, whatever obscure facet of his existence has so offended his present company. ]

And I hardly think my magic is any business of yours.

Do you often ask probing personal questions after insulting and belittling someone? Because it's usually better done with at least a modicum of charm.
lickstheevidence: (Default)

[personal profile] lickstheevidence 2021-06-20 01:27 am (UTC)(link)
[Fine, Connor doesn't believe in spirits, either. Well, not yet. Give him some real proof and he may reconsider his position.

In the meantime...

For a second he looks fearful that Anders might just do exactly as he says. He'll need to nip this bud right off, so he comes to a decision, standing abruptly.]


Come on, then. I think there's a library around here somewhere. I'm not about to let you have all the fun. We'll quote dreadful poetry at each other instead.
nightschool: (🖋️ 56)

[personal profile] nightschool 2021-06-20 02:26 am (UTC)(link)
Ridiculous. [Immediate and unbending and laden with choked laughter.] Of course you are.

[Behind his mask, blank incomprehension reigns. What contention is there to take in what they are, creatures, those that live among humans but stand a fraction apart? He hadn't been tearing the other down; he'd been drawing a bridge between them.]

The only one here who seems determined to insult you is you. And myself. Your own people. All three of the creatures.

[Thunderstruck disbelief returns with twice the vengeance, loaning him animation where'd been a pointed lack of it before. Sitting up straight, his posture lights up with the incredulity of the downright extraordinary. He finds himself leaning forward, scarcely daring to consider adding this, too, to the list of impossibilities this one interaction has managed to birth.]

My god, do you come from a place where you believe yourself to be human?

[The very thought! Now the witch's sulky sourness begins to make sense in its totality. To one, a common enemy in human imagination is almost a point of camaraderie. To the other, an egregious mockery. Unable to hold back a surprised smile, he leans closer still as if departing some conspiratorial wisdom--or more to the point, the extended history lesson required to shed light on this backward back-and-forth.]

To call a witch human would be the gravest of injuries--I might as well offer my hand to their face and be done with it. They take great pride in being anything but. Have you felt I've been quite unmannerly naming you a part of the world of creatures? [He chuckles softly, genuinely touched by amusement.] I was paying you the due respect, you silly fool--there's your insult. Unless they do not yet know they belong to it, no witch, daemon, or wearh I know would suffer being mistaken for human among one another.

How strange you are. [Musing.] It's as if our histories face each other in a warped mirror.
mewnifestos: (Default)

[personal profile] mewnifestos 2021-06-20 03:41 am (UTC)(link)
[ What's this?? Someone willing to entertain him and his terrible sense of humor (even under threat of something that, realistically, Anders would never have the follow-through for)? A rare treat!

So of course he's going to follow along. ]


Oh, ordinarily I'd say that's second date talk - but I'll settle for a proper introduction before we start picking our sonnets?
queenking: ([up] /sips tea)

[personal profile] queenking 2021-06-20 04:41 am (UTC)(link)
[Meanwhile Saxsice has drank at least half of the bottle, but her words are as clear as ever -- which isn't much, considering her natural drawl, but she definitely doesn't seem that intoxicated yet.]

No cows or anythin', wow. Just, uh...cravats? [Another sip.] Crumpets? Things like that?
nightschool: (🖋️ 121)

😎👉👉

[personal profile] nightschool 2021-06-20 09:38 am (UTC)(link)
[The first time he'd locked eyes with Matthew de Clermont, he'd seen his own demise in towering muscle and ethereal paleness capped in dark hair, blue eyes as intense as ice filming over winter seas, freezing the very blood in his veins with their glacial lack of humanity. A prince among predators, barely contained in his human skin.

It had taken the span of one slow smile to understand on a primal level his life was a gift Matthew would be giving him every second of every day after.

And how he had loved him for it. Sensual fatality in someone so beautiful and terrible had claimed his heart and his breath, and hadn't given either back.

She brings him back to that moment in an instant. The memory douses him. He relives it all down to every goosebump in the span of a second, enough time to stand struck and think god, she reminds him a bit where that line between beastliness and grace divides and where it overlaps. Enough time for his heart to flutter with a nostalgic kind of reverence before it remembers the break, and better times before the well of Matthew's mercy ran dry. Before she speaks and he catches his breath behind his teeth.]


True enough, lady. [And he's the most remarkable person I'll ever know.] Far be it for me to think I can avoid the bite, whatever the case.

[His mouth is dry from the sea voyage and the walk, and now the unparalleled sight of a lifetime; it adds a sandpapery rasp to a rough and breathy response.

She's cold, too, this one--but more in the way of fire and marble than ice and rage. A living creature, her crimson lips and sharp femininity so like Louisa's, but flushed from within by power that nudges against him, wanting to be known and witnessed. His rapt gaze traverses from point to point, tracing the massive wings that occupy the corridor. Drinking her in.]


Marvellous.
Edited 2021-06-20 09:42 (UTC)
aviate: (( hj ) awkward)

[personal profile] aviate 2021-06-20 11:00 am (UTC)(link)
That's me, the most gracious guy around.

[Except no, he's really just an idiot who says things without thinking.]

You're not going to leave me behind though, right? It's a long walk back you know.
dothelokimotion: (In context of the storyteller)

[personal profile] dothelokimotion 2021-06-20 11:04 am (UTC)(link)
[ loki pretends to hum. ]

Well, I wasn't considering it . . .
aviate: (( hj ) don't be mean)

[personal profile] aviate 2021-06-20 11:44 am (UTC)(link)
And you're still not because you've been such a nice guy so far and it'd be a shame to break that streak.
dothelokimotion: (Safely in darkness once again)

[personal profile] dothelokimotion 2021-06-20 11:48 am (UTC)(link)
[ such a nice guy doesn't sound like him and makes him want to ditch hal on principle but — no. there's no point in that. ]

Yes. That is exactly the reason.
shapeshistory: <user name=bungalows> (New Balance)

[personal profile] shapeshistory 2021-06-20 06:32 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Jack's eyes narrow, growing silent, if only because he's trying to do the mental math. Give him a hot second, and those beady eyes turn to Nathan, upper lip curled in confusion before he purposely looks away. He's looking back at Nate in a matter of seconds, double take fairly evident. ]

The colonies?

[ From has a new meaning. If it's enough that language has changed, that's a considerable span of years. And, more importantly, he's still heard of him. Jack tries to bite down the sudden feeling of giddiness, though his eyes are alight. ]

When?
shapeshistory: <user name=bungalows> (Default)

[personal profile] shapeshistory 2021-06-20 07:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Jack's scoff is almost a laugh. ]

It's no wonder it's still on you. What will your fancy neighbours think, with your instigating such tawdry behaviour?

Have you considered drinking to the point of drunken confession? Surely, something will surface.
pilferings: (how are your kackers?)

[personal profile] pilferings 2021-06-20 07:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Sam says something about upsetting the wife, and it takes everything in Nate not to flinch at the comment meant for another man in another normal, apple-pie life.

Instead his expression remains unchanged. He's still just as helpless, just as lost in this big shop full of things that his wife may or may not like, and the sheer relief that floods his face when Sam graciously allows the salesperson to assist him is clear when he nods gratefully. ]


I owe you one, pal — [ is said before Nate gently guides the assistant back over to the other side of the counters, her back facing Sam and the lighters, while Nate tries to list off all of the things his wife likes in a gift. ]

She can be pretty particular. [ He pulls his focus in on another random trinket, something the sales assistant might have a specific opinion on. It's sparkly, at least. ] How about —
pilferings: (make it happ'n capt'n)

i am so sorry for the ridiculous slow ... pls forgive me

[personal profile] pilferings 2021-06-20 10:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Spite is a good enough reason as any to be glad about the lack of guns present available between them, even if Nate is feeling a little less than capable of punching his way out of this one with his own two fists. Would he just get a hand stuck in one of those gooey bodies? And speaking of gooey bodies, he would really rather not get any of their anything-gooey on him.

Thankfully the winged woman is on board with his idea of getting the hell outta Dodge, and better yet — she's got magic. It's not his first time seeing it now, which means his reaction isn't to look at it funny, or to perceive it with any kind of expression aside from mild relief, maybe.

He doesn't understand the first thing about how magic works (actual magic and not sleight of hand; the latter he gets, the latter he might have had a short-lived phase with) but so far it's been on his side, so he'll take it.

He nods. As far as plans go, it's a sound one. ]


You too, huh? [ Said lightly. ] I met a guy who could use magic back at the library, maybe I'll uh — introduce you guys if we survive this. Could start a book club.

[ Oh, and making quips is also how he deals with stressful situations. Sorry for your life, Maleficent. ]
bookerlesigh: (considering)

[personal profile] bookerlesigh 2021-06-20 10:31 pm (UTC)(link)

The man himself - doubt dictates that Booker still doesn't believe her even after the confirmation. Lucifer? Actually existing? That thought has a ripple effect that Booker isn't keen on processing.

Well, maybe it's just a nickname for someone. And inside joke. Yeah, that's more likely.

The trouble part is a given but Booker nods his head in sympathetic consternation anyways.

"The world's your mollusks. Some places have got to be easier than others."

bookerlesigh: (Default)

[personal profile] bookerlesigh 2021-06-20 10:38 pm (UTC)(link)

Excellent. Now it's double likely that they'll find something to help pass the time without the weight of uncertainty and god-awfulness so heavy on their mind. There had to be some around here - and if there wasn't, hell. Wouldn't be the first time he made his own, but that, unfortunately, took time.

"You bring around some booze, we can toast to whatever the hell you want to bub."

"I used to buy into the whole spiel," Booker admits - it was impossible not to, in his age. "Now I just do my best to try to ignore it."

Booker glances around the empty hall, and he gives a nod to the stranger, "Sure. I'll watch the 6," he offers, and he keeps a few paces behind. Not that this place seems remotely dangerous, but he's been part of a unit for long enough that it's habit anyway.

Though the possibility of danger does bring up another question; "Have you found any weapons around here?"

nightschool: (🖋️ 96)

[personal profile] nightschool 2021-06-21 07:23 am (UTC)(link)
[A nice thought, that he can confide in a kindly human without repercussion or secrets reaching the wrong ears, but the truth is so often less kind. One upside to having the bottom limit of the natural world punched out to allow for greater depths is wondering if his secrets are even still worth knowing.

The corner of his mouth tenses as if he might attempt another smile for the optimism shown his tidy little crumb of admission, but he doesn't make it beyond that. How can he explain there is no purpose without Matthew? He can't, not without dragging the other further into dark rumination like the skull has them. Saying the words out loud brings his pitifulness into relief. He's a poor example of appreciating what he has: his father lives; Matthew lives, and will live long after, and yet he's only able to clasp at the thorns of what he doesn't have.

If he were truly out to do the other a favor... he'd finally stop this unnatural influence, at least for the man's sake.]


Thank you. But I think my journeying may be short-lived.

[With that ominous prediction, he scrubs a hand into his tousled hair a moment, working himself up to the act, before beginning to unfold cold-stiffened limbs to rise.]

Would you care for a walk? I'd say it's past time we let this grisly thing be before the tide comes in. You can tell me about this feeling of yours. I confess, I thought my confessing might tempt you into it.
Edited 2021-06-21 07:24 (UTC)
aviate: (( gl ) you said what?)

[personal profile] aviate 2021-06-21 09:54 am (UTC)(link)
Are you trying to convince me you're scary so I should keep my distance?

[It's clearly not working.]

If you really try to do something, I'm not going down without a fight, but since nothing has actually happened I'm going to continue as is.
lickstheevidence: (Default)

[personal profile] lickstheevidence 2021-06-22 01:11 am (UTC)(link)
[Being fair, Connor is newly deviant and extremely naive about certain things and confused by others. Humor is something he still doesn't quite get. He may have social integration programming, the best Cyberlife has ever developed, but realistically speaking how good could it be if it was developed by tech nerds who had their own issues relating to other people? So if Anders has a terrible sense of humor, Connor is blissfully unaware of this fact, and in addition he's going to take most of what the man says literally.]

...Oh. Are we on a date now? My name is Connor- I'm the andr- it's just Connor. I've never been on a date before. Is there something I should be doing?
aviate: (( hj ) hal likes)

[personal profile] aviate 2021-06-22 10:14 am (UTC)(link)
[He might have been concerned about getting Loki out of there before him, but that was before the whole god part came to light. Now he's perfectly justified being annoying to get help.

He gives him a thumbs up.]


I knew I could count on you.
dothelokimotion: (It's no use guessing which)

[personal profile] dothelokimotion 2021-06-22 10:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ this sounds worse and worse. loki lets his gaze skitter away. ]

Yes. I suppose.
grayshulk: (pic#12958694)

thanks! I almost never get to use it

[personal profile] grayshulk 2021-06-25 04:48 am (UTC)(link)
It's been too long since Jennifer has been so comfortable in her own skin. The ease of trusting the unspoken communication and shared skill is so often associated with violence in her life, but there's none of that here. And if the violence in her life tends to be necessary protective actions, there's always a relief to being able to set that violence down.

The spin is a brief breathless moment that ends in a catch and a degree of trust. She smiles up at him with his boyband hair (that's a compliment, probably,) and the fact he actually manages the dramatic recovery that leaves pleasant tingles in its wake. Whisps of her hair have already escaped the updo she woke with, leaving her pleasantly disheveled. "Very impressive."
aviate: (( hj ) bring it)

[personal profile] aviate 2021-06-25 11:08 am (UTC)(link)
[As tempting as it is to swing an arm around his shoulder, he suspects that would end with him on his ass and facing a horde of zombies by himself.]

I'll get through to you eventually. For now you can tell yourself the sooner we get out of here, the sooner you can walk away.