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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
Kyle shrugs. "I don't see WHY you'd lie, given the circumstances. Besides, I've seen stranger, probably." His lips twitch into another grin. "A home-schooled werewolf. Wow. But yeah, makes sense if you only change under a full moon. Is that true? Or movie shit?"
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That gets even more of an eyebrow arch, but if he isn't immediately trying to throw silver at her, Saxsice is gonna count it as a win. "All right, cool. Yeah, home-schooled, lived in a commune in the woods, the whole shebang." Then she shakes her head. "When you're a kid, yeah, the moon makes it easier, but once you're old and decrepit like me, you can do that shit on a whim."
A pause, then she adds: "Also silver's a myth, but I am deathly allergic to chocolate. And I fuckin' hate squirrels."
no subject
The idea of a werewolf eating chocolate and having to be rushed to the vet sets him cackling. "Sorry, sorry," he apologises. "Just, you know. You're my first werewolf and you're pretty funny. I'm Kyle, by the way."
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Then she shakes her head, waving a dismissive hand. "No worries, as long as you don't start expectin' that of all werewolves. Most of the ones I know were born without a sense of humor. You're peakin' early, Mister." Then, with a toothy grin: "Saxsice King. Nice to meetcha."
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"I have a feeling I won't meet many," he confesses. "Uhm, Broflovski. Wow, King is a MUCH easier surname.
"So, that thing about the cult... you weren't gonna say anything about it, right? Like you didn't plan to. Something made you do it?"
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Then she nods, waving cheerfully down at him. "Broflovski's cool, though. If I had it over again, I'd pick somethin' with a whole mess'a syllables, instead of "King"."
Oh, right, creepy mask. Saxsice nods, pointing at the mask, not wanting to pick it up again. "Yeah, that thing. Picked it up and suddenly wanted to unburden my deep dark secrets. Fucked up, right?"
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"Nah, it's just Polish." He hoists himself up onto the stage - not particularly hard considering his height - and walks over to the table with the mask. He studies it without touching it, frowning lightly.
"Not to sound totally egotistical, but it's probably good you did so to me and not like... I dunno. I guess it's hard to blackmail one another when we're all in the same boat. Kinda literally." He half reaches out his hand but then jams both into his pockets instead. "I sort of want to see if it has the same effect on me, but I also don't want to subject you to any of my fucked up brain stuff."
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Then she swings her feet back to the ground, leaning forward, almost close enough for her nose to touch the mask. "I just told you that I was raised in a werewolf cult and you're worried about fucking me up? I'm un-fuck-up-able, my dude." She grins upwards, all teeth. "Do it. Touch it. Toooouch the creepy mask."
no subject
He studies the mask a moment later, and then mutters, "fuck it," before he touches it.
His eyes go distant immediately. He looks at Saxcise and clearly he's seeing someone else as he says, "I can't believe you nearly got your whole family killed just so you could feel superior, Dad."
no subject
She rocks back and forth from heel to toe for a moment, then has to ask: "But did it work?"
no subject
He stops and looks at the mask, then at Saxsice. He shakes his head and his eyes clear a little. "I. Sorry. Don't take this wrong but for a second you looked like a middle aged bearded lawyer."
no subject
Then Saxsice breaks into a relieved smile, waving a hand in greeting. "Hey, welcome back. And no worries, ain't the first time someone's said that to me, won't be the last." This is...not factual, but she hopes it's reassuring, at least?
no subject
That actually makes him laugh. It's more of a cackle, really. "For seriously? I somehow doubt that." He backs away a step from the table. "Jeez. This place really has a hard-on for getting us to overshare, huh?" He moves to sit on the edge of the stage.
"You seem nice, though. Uh. Have you ever eaten someone?"
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Then she grimaces, leaning back on her hands, looking up at where the curtain disappears above them. "Yeah, can't say I'm a fan. It's been safe stuff so far, but what if it pushes me to reveal the really nitty-gritty stuff? No thanks."
At the question, she gives Kyle an arched eyebrow. "Not as a person. But it gets a little fuzzy when I'm...y'know, in the grips of moon madness." A pause. "Wanna see?"
no subject
Kyle looks at Saxsice for a long moment before he nods. "You know what? Yes. I do."
no subject
Saxsice brightens considerably, grinning widely and sitting upright. "Awesome, sick, one sec." It's -- well, it's not as body-horror-y as some transformations are in movies and stuff. There's some bone-cracking and tearing of skin, but it's over within a few minutes and a huge fluffy white wolf is standing on the stage shaking off the shreds of clothes. Ta-da?
no subject
Kyle pulls his legs up and kneels, edging a little closer.
"Whoa," he says, and resist the urge to pet the wolf and ask it who's a good girl, yes she isssssssss. "Can you still understand me?"
no subject
It'd be a little intimidating if she weren't still wearing the remnants of a pink 20's flapper dress. But she deliberately raises and lowers her head in a semblance of a nod, then trots closer, sniffing at the ground as she goes. Better nose when she's wolfy, after all.
No clues present themselves, so she contents herself with snuffling at Kyle's hair, then headbutting his shoulder, with an impatient look at the torn fabric. Help, she doesn't have thumbs anymore :(
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"Oh! Oh, yeah, sure..." He starts peeling what's left of the dress off, frowning lightly.
"You know, when you turn back you're gonna need something else to wear. Kinda sucks that happens every time. I guess all werewolves must do a lot of thrift store shopping..." The idea of a werewolf stocking up on basics at Army and Navy or something does make him smile.
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Once the dress is removed entirely, she stretches luxuriously, tail wagging around wildly, silvery hairs filling the air. Wolves shed a lot. Then she shakes all over, before plopping down onto the ground with one of those weary, canine sighs, like she's had a long day at the office.
After a breath, she nudges Kyle's hand, impatiently. Petting is allowed, it isn't undignified, she knows she's gorgeous and fluffy.
no subject
He's going to get wolf hair all over this nice suit the island has gifted him with. Oh, well. Kyle gets the giggles again as he pets her the same way he would any other big dog.
"Oh man. I'm sorry, but this is great. I feel like the hero in a fantasy novel or something." That just makes him grin wider. "When I was a little kid, I used to pretend I was like... king of the Elves. That's the sort of person who would have a bigass wolf at his side. So. Thanks for this."
no subject
So she sits up a bit, trying to look like a cool, kickass, serene king-of-the-Elves-like companion wolf. It's hard with her tongue lolling out in a canine smile, and her tail thumping against the stage, but she's making an effort. Like this?
no subject
Although literally minutes ago the wolf was a human being, it's extremely difficult not to just talk to it like you would any other canine. One thing that's always been appealing about animals is that they don't judge, and it makes babbling hard not to do.
"See, that's super sweet. Much, much cooler than running around in your bathrobe with a golf club, heh." He scritches her behind her ears. "You know, in movies, it's like usually a werewolf winds up being sort of half humanoid? Except that one in London, I guess. But I know in old stories it was like this, where you turn into a full wolf. I read once in France they didn't have witch trials like a lot of the rest of Europe did, they had werewolf trials. I always thought that was kinda interesting. I mean, they probably weren't really werewolves at all - I hope not, you seem pretty nice - probably just people they didn't like. Or like, serial killers, like that Gille de Rais guy or whatever." Kyle can talk forever.
"I'm gonna tell you a secret. I always felt bad for werewolves in movies who didn't wanna turn. Like the guy in Werewolf in London. Like the moon did it's thing and whether you liked it or not, bam! I always identified with that because I've felt that happen. Not with becoming a wolf, nothing that dire - heh, that's a joke - but with being a total douchebag."
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In fact, Saxsice doesn't really react until Kyle mentions a secret, at which point her ears prick up and she opens her eyes fully, watching him thoughtfully. Her tail stills, and then abruptly she moves to sit upright again, fully eye-to-eye with him, even sitting down. She makes a low, grumbly whine, pushing one big paw against his knee and scrunching her face in concern. Don't say that, she doesn't think you're a douchebag!
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He shakes his head. His stupid curls bounce a little when he does. "It's 'cause I was conceived in Jersey. So I guess if I ever have kids I just have to make sure we're nowhere near there." He thinks a moment. "If you have kids, I guess you have to stay in one form the whole nine months?"
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