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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.
iii. (pre zombies)
Now that he's out of the press of glittering bodies, has shed the black tie and tails to move more comfortably, another solitary figure is nothing. Easily tolerated even as they travel in parallel lines, keeping apace through the dunes. Though... Something about that figure nags at the corner of his mind. Something that rings familiar — the rhythm of their stride, the cut of their shoulders, the outline of their silhouette. Something that doesn't quite click into place until Nate speaks. Just one syllable but that's all Rafe needs to hear and then he knows.
His feet almost move of their own accord, closing the distance now that Nate's crouched down in front of a partial skeleton, a macabre grin glinting under the moonlight. (How fitting; you can take the guy away from the grave robbing but you can't take the grave robber out of—) He stops as Nate clambers back up, only a few yards away now as he watches his every mood with a laser focus. ]
That's one word for it.
[ Even with his mask still in place, he trusts Nate to recognize his voice. ]
no subject
Nate is already back up on his feet, deliberately ignoring the glittery skull watching them from over his shoulder. The winds feel different now, but that might just be due to present company. ]
— the hell are you doing here?
[ It's a stupid question, rhetorical really in the grand scheme of things. Rafe is likely here for the same reasons he is. The same reasons any of them are.
And yet, what the hell are the odds?
Much of Rafe's face is obscured by the intricate glint of his mask, the shape of bones defined by the dim light of the moon above, even with a slow fog rolling in. It's hard not to feel just a little creeped out, sandwiched between the shapes of two skulls, and quite frankly Nate's not entirely sure which one of them he prefers. ]
no subject
[ A little obtuse? Maybe. But better than getting existential on a beach in the middle of a night, or rehashing the frankly insane premise they both heard on the boat coming in. Besides, there's that fun little stipulation of leaving the past behind or else (vague and ominous, a perfect combination) and while usually Rafe isn't much for sticking to rules...? This isn't one he's keen on testing. Not yet, anyway. So "here" becomes the beach, becomes tonight, rather than Carcossa and the Isles and facing down Nate again.
That last is the only dependable constant in all of it. Rafe doesn't even have to say it aloud because it simply is inexorable, inevitable — they started off together and they'll just end up back in each other's orbit one way or another no matter how long it takes to get there, until the end of the line. ]
Even if I were, the last one I went to... [ He sucks his teeth, head tilting before he glances off towards the water then back to Nate. Always back to Nate. ] Left a bad taste in my mouth. You understand.
[ Time has already proven itself...malleable, for a word, proven the last run-in he'd had with Sam and Nate on a different beach. So he's careful probing now, unsure if Nate's even arrived at the Rossi auction yet on his end. If Nate's yet to tip over that first domino that ultimately ended on a cliffside overlooking the Madagascar jungles. ]
no subject
[ Rafe may be testing Nate to get a sense of what he remembers last, but honestly it works both ways. At least he knows that the man standing in front of him now has seen that part of his life through. Not that they'd interacted at all, but Sully's warning had been clear enough that they weren't the only ones vying for the second Dismas cross, the one with an actual lead stashed inside it.
Even if, okay, the party didn't exactly end ... quietly. He still got his ass handed to him rather ungracefully when he'd sailed out of the window in an explosion of glass and metal (not subtle at all), barely hanging on by a literal thread. Christ. But they got what they came for, and now Sam ... Sam was gonna be okay. As long as they got through this place and headed home, things were going to be okay.
He gestures to the mask still firmly placed over Rafe's features, realizes they might've been at the party at the same time tonight, another echo of that evening at the Rossi estate. ]
What, didn't feel like talking tonight?
no subject
[ Here his voice is a trifle drier, a degree cooler, and that rule chafes a little rawer because he wants to ask. Knows full well Nate's yet to discover the full extent of Sam's bullshit and Rafe's involvement thereof, that he swallowed down the whole poison pill story his brother fed with him a smile, but even so... Nate had to have known, hadn't he? He couldn't really have believed that a second Dismas cross would pop up without Rafe right there and waiting to get his hands on it too.
But he's caught in the rules they're both stuck playing by, and stows the question away for some later date outside the Ferryman's earshot. ]
Oh, I had a few chats but. You know me, Nate. [ A casual shrug, like he isn't stuck as a rich man's method actor understudy for Phantom of the Opera. ] No secrets to tell when I keep all my cards on the table.
[ Excluding, of course, the information he's holding onto Sam to hang above his head. Then again that's not his secret, is it. ]
Surprised to see you got yours off, though.
no subject
Really. I doubt you kept all your cards on the table.
[ No, Rafe might not be the kind of person who lied, but he sure didn't keep his entire agenda out and open for all to see. Never really had with him, and certainly Nate couldn't see him doing so with complete strangers from other worlds.
If he had, maybe that mask of his wouldn't still be attached rather permanently on his face. And speaking of which: ]
Yeah. [ Nate reaches up with a hand to touch his face without even realizing it, like it's instinct more than anything. And the events from only a few hours earlier gut-punch him all over again, so his continued response sounds just a little ... shakier. More uncertain. ] I — uh. Ran into my wife, Elena.
no subject
But he's not here to argue semantics.
That little tidbit and the delivery thereof has him arching an eyebrow, invisible though it may be beneath the mask. ]
You almost make it sound like not all's well with your little happily ever after. Would've thought you'd be thrilled, just one big treasure-hunting family.
no subject
[ And doth the
ladythief protest too much? Perhaps. Nate doesn't care to divulge on this. Call it years-long pettiness or just the need to keep a very deliberate distance between them, but he'd much rather that Rafe not have this kind of personal knowledge, this kind of potential leverage on him for any reason.Thing is, he's never been that great of a liar, not where his emotional state counted anyway. And it's easy enough to hear the uncertainty even in his protest. He's glad she's here, of course he is, but with the way things had gone at the party only some hours ago ... the conversation still stings. ]
Anyway — [ Yeah, we are moving on from that subject entirely. ] — I didn't expect to see you here at all. On this beach, on this island, on this ... quest. Thing.
no subject
But everything in its own time. Fifteen years searching for Avery has taught him a very specific kind of patience, sure in the knowledge that the satisfaction will be all the sweeter for waiting. ]
It's a small island. [ Then with the requisite smart-ass answer out the way: ] You make it sound as if this gig was some kind of opt-in.
[ Which is definitely not the vibe he was picking up from the Ferryman. ]