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Entry tags:
- ! event log,
- a discovery of witches: kit marlowe,
- dc: harley quinn,
- detroit: become human: chloe,
- detroit: become human: connor,
- dragon age: anders,
- final fantasy: sephiroth,
- locked tomb: harrowhark nonagesimus,
- marvel: carter ghazikhanian,
- marvel: jennifer walters,
- marvel: loki odinson,
- marvel: wade wilson,
- my hero academia: takami keigo,
- oc: elenore evans,
- oc: saxsice king,
- penny dreadful: victor frankenstein,
- south park: kyle broflovski,
- uncharted: elena fisher,
- uncharted: nathan drake,
- uncharted: rafe adler,
- uncharted: samuel drake
Destination: 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!
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.
no subject
Watch out, [ is her way of answering his question, as another burst of green lights up the fog just enough to cast a shine on any bodies lumbering about in it. But this time she keeps her magic in her palm, using it as a sort of guiding light, holding it upwards.
The sudden glint of golden eyes upon her, coming from so many directions — Maleficent tenses again, moving closer to the voice. Her other hand sends out another little burst of magic — not nearly as much as she would ordinarily use, as she is attempting to conserve her energy enough to make it to the owner of that voice. She can tell she's close; he sounds quite near. ]
Can you come to me? [ She'll protect him; a knowledge in her that goes unspoken. She stays tense and ready, and as more of the rotting things amble to her, uses the clawtip of a wing to slice at them, with a loud swoosh through the air of the great feathered appendages, slicing the throat of one, the belly of another, and knocking others backwards with force. Her magic may be temporary here, but her strength is not.
.... But she is unknowing that the figure will possess those same eyes, if he makes his way to her from the fog. And if he does quickly enough, she will mistake him for one of them — slicing her wing out at him with every intention of making contact. Perhaps he would be fast enough to avoid her; she moves with inhuman speed, but she may not be the only inhuman thing here. ]
no subject
But there's a burst of green light, and that cuts through the dense gloom like any good lighthouse beacon should. There's a little ache of the familiar in it too, but this is green light, not red hot flames.
Alucard's figure is far more slender in what the light might make it possible to see, although his eye color doesn't help an inch in this situation. Voice it has to be, and there's an echolocation and bat joke in there somewhere.]
You're clear enough.
[So yes, he can. He can move with noise to make his approach distinct from the other creatures, the thudding of heavy boots over sand not exactly loud, but a unique enough thing.
There's a part of Alucard that wants to excel at the speed his heritage grants him. The rest of Alucard, tempered and smart in a fight, knows better in this situation. So he moves at a more human pace, capable of--
--ducking elegantly under the wing that cuts just an inch away from where his nose was, and then straightening underneath.]
Two behind me. I'm unsure of how many lay ahead.
[Hopefully fewer as they draw closer to that sacred looking skull.]
no subject
But it's a split second later that she realises he's not one of them, his features better illuminated in her magic's glow now that he's so close, and her own eyes widen in surprise of him. His eyes are almost like hers, only even more purely golden rather than tinged in green — his sharp, gilded gaze is something familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time.
....More familiar, though, than a human's would be. Whatever he is— she knows he isn't human, or not fully, which automatically makes him a more capable ally, in her opinion. The fey nods quickly, and then just as quickly sends another blast directly behind him. She can't see the two but she hears her magic make contact with their bodies, sending them reeling. As for what lies ahead — he's right. There could be armies more of them, and she hesitates, now seeing him as someone to confer with. ]
I am unsure if they are able to detect our scents, or if they must navigate by sight and sound alone. [ She lowers her voice as she speaks quickly, and even lets her magic dim further, trying to keep their position incognito. She's never dealt with the undead before; their capabilities are unknown to her. ] Perhaps attempting to sneak our way through would be a better tactic than using open force.
[ ....Though it's more her style to want to blast and slash things, they're painfully outnumbered. Of course, sneaking through hoards of the undead when one has giant wings is inevitably... a task. ]
no subject
[Alucard's careful to keep his voice at the same volume, the concern about using sound to locate things a valid one. If they're advanced upon with whispers, they also have an answer.
Stillness settles into the air, but that gives Alucard absolutely no comfort. He's barely registering his new ally as it is, far too caught up in the need to get away than anything else.
She's not human. That'll do for now, and anything else can be dealt with once they're past the fog. And then Alucard has to ask something stupid, because it seems so terribly obvious.]
Can your wings move some of the fog so we can see in front of us as we proceed?
swoops in with outrageously late backtag 😎
But she cannot. The risk is... too great. If she overextends her magic here... if she should somehow become injured or even perish in this place... she will be unable to return to Aurora. And that thought, that single thought, is what drives her to use more caution. She must survive this. She must keep her voice down, and sneak. Find other ways to overcome the predicament.
She must rely on others.
There's a short nod at the suggestion — it is such an obvious thought, and it's almost comical that she finds herself surprised by it for a moment. Maleficent is well used to usilising her wings however they may be needed, and often as a weapon. But she isn't used to staying on the ground through that. She recovers quickly enough, however, her wings lifting, one curving slightly in front of her and brushing the fog backwards, clearing the air slightly in front of them. The other keeps closer to her companion, almost as though to guard him from behind if needed. ]
That way— [ Her eyes flash to the direction she's very sure she came from, back towards the stretch of beach beyond the fog. She'll start moving that way with him, and there's a reactive snarl from somewhere behind them; it seems the undead things can see them, after all. Maleficent already knows he can move fast, and so she quickens her own pace, fanged mouth held in a tight grimace. ]
no subject
--good tactical thing, that.
There's no time to waste. That way it is, and Alucard launches ahead. He can see something beyond the fog, beyond the bodies. Faint lights, obscurred. This is the right way.]
Two ahead on the right. I'm only shoving them out of the path, not engaging.
[He can see the movement and thicker shadows in the fog. To get into a fight is to risk being surrounded.]