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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
[ He sounds less bitter about it than he tries to - but admitting that fact is singularly more isolating and frightening than most of the rest of this whole ridiculous mess put together is well beyond his capacity for candid honesty. ]
So no one there is a mage? You must have the dreariest parties. [ Ha ha. The humor doesn't quite make it into his tone, this time, bitter or not. ]
How does anyone do magic without being born with it?
no subject
Sephiroth spares him a glance and a raised eyebrow for the attempted joke. Anders could be correct for all he knows; he doesn't do parties.]
Materia, as I said. It holds the knowledge and wisdom of the Ancients, allowing us to call up magic as they once did.
Though some have more talent for it than others.
no subject
[ There's less humor in his puzzled dismissal, now, as he tries to parse the meaning in that explanation. Without asking a hundred more questions, though, he doubts if he likely will. Better to pare it down to just the pertinent ones. ]
So these Ancients did all of your magic for you? And now you just sort of pick up what they left behind?
no subject
I suppose that's apt. It's human nature, isn't it? To use what we haven't earned.
[He turns away from the desk, scanning the room for anywhere else one might tuck things away. He wouldn't have expected a map to be something one hid, but rather kept conveniently accessible.]
Unfortunately the opportunity to do so here seems... lacking.
no subject
[ He pauses in poking along the frame of a completely innocuous painting hung on the wall - some uninspired landscape that reflects nothing of the scenery, here - then shrugs and moves on. ]
Though I suppose if I'd been dead and gone for a few centuries, or whatever, I wouldn't really have cause to care what anyone did with my magic.
no subject
And now? Is your magic something that can be taught?
no subject
—A train of thought Anders doesn't intend to share. Even he thinks that's a bit too on the nose.
His own search has become lackluster, as well, as hopeful as his halfhearted shrug. ]
Not unless you're secretly a mage. And I'd think you'd know, by now. We tend to manifest early.
no subject
[He could have gone on pursuing it. How early and in what manner does it manifest? He's been using materia since he was a child... But he doesn't want to bring a conversation with a near stranger anywhere near his childhood.
Moreover, most children don't have access to materia, so to suggest it masked some innate ability would be to suggest yet another abnormality in him, and he... doesn't want to go there, right now.
He replaces the book where he found it and turns.]
I wonder if this ship has ever actually been sailed anywhere.
no subject
He shakes his head, turning for the door again. Having a look around below deck is still probably a good idea, just in case, but at this point it seems more like sightseeing than fact-finding. ]
Maybe it's new? Still a maiden, sans the voyage? We're obviously a lucky pair. Perhaps we just chose the wrong one.
no subject
[Said with a healthy dose of skepticism. It might be more plausible than the notion that the harbor's entire personnel simultaneously left on break, but not by much.
He follows Anders out the door, and a glance tells him the place is still deserted. Nothing about this is right, and he wonders what the point is. Part of an elaborate but not wholly convincing illusion? A temptation, to "test" them? A way to taunt them with a potential means of escape?]
Or perhaps they're all exactly the same.
no subject
[ He's voiced the thought aloud before he realizes how eerily it lines up with what he'd already been thinking. (Or trying not to.) Not a pleasant feeling. ]
A big sham, just to make us think - well, what?
no subject
[They've been placed in this location with minimal explanation or direction--none of which he buys--but he's beginning to feel he underestimated the degree to which this location was... staged for them.]
We're being toyed with. Perhaps someone simply wants to see how we'll react.
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
I'd almost rather it be just a pointless whim. When you put it like that, it sounds like we should be bracing for worse.
no subject
Imagining worse is easy. As cages go, this is a large one, and nothing in it has tried to kill me, yet.
[He glances at Anders in appraisal--force of habit, maybe, on mentioning it. Honestly, though, at least someone or something trying to kill him would feel more straightforward.]
no subject
[ He scoffs, almost managing to sound amused, and tosses a different kind of appraising look over his shoulder. If he's expecting a fight, though, it's not from another Traveler. Not at the moment, anyway. ]
I can imagine a lot worse than something trying to kill us.
no subject
[Sephiroth generally skips the first part of that saying, but realistically at least he doesn't always expect the worst.]
I'll agree, mortal danger is something of a low bar.
no subject
[ It's a compliment, really.
Anders huffs, shakes his head, and starts on the short walk back down to the docks. He lifts a hand in a wave, as he goes. ]
If you find anything worthwhile, do let me know. But this feels a bit like a dead end, and I'm going to take my custom elsewhere.
no subject
Well, he won't take it for an insult.]
...I may. Let you know, that is. [No promises. Anders seems competent enough, but Sephiroth doesn't have any problem with splitting up either.]
Good luck.
no subject
[ There's a cheerful taunt in his reply, as he calls back, but he doesn't really mean it, only responding in kind to that lingering uncertainty.
Luck he could use, though, certainly. They all could, right about now, he's quite sure. ]