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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
That would be preferable to playing along.
I don't suppose you're able to sense the magic at work here? That strikes me as the quickest way to search them out.
[He's not certain what powers come along with being... whatever she is, but an affinity for magic seems as likely as any. As for himself, he's only familiar with one sort of magic, and it isn't something he can access here. Whether he's capable of anything else... remains to be seen. An unknown and untrained ability is of no use now.]
Though whether we're being observed in person, or via these... [He lifts his hand to indicate his Scrywatch--yellow--and then shrugs. Either is possible.]
no subject
Still. Playing along would be giving in, and she certainly won't do that. This may not be the sort of fighting she is used to, but it's still fighting, in its way. Refusing to acquiesce. Hunting down someone, or something, to target. ]
I can sense that there is something.... strange in this place, but its source alludes me. [ If its source is even here. She frowns, not too pleased to reveal what feels like a weakness in herself, before following the movement of his hand, gazing at what adorns his wrist. Yellow.... Her own is a different hue, and she ponders revealing it to him, but decides not just yet; it's hidden under her elbow-length glove. ]
You believe such a.... device could observe us? [ She's been ignoring her own after the initial message came through. Now, though.... the fey's eyebrows knit just slightly as she stares down to his device. Suddenly it seems like a yellow eye peering outwards at her. ]
How is that possible? It is not alive. [ ...Maleficent: Mistress of Evil does not know about such technology. ]
no subject
It doesn't need to be "alive." I don't know what sort of world you come from, but we have similar technology in mine. Man-made machines for nearly instantaneous communication across significant distance.
This one is clearly capable of transmitting audio. The so-called "Voice of the Ancient" did so earlier. It's possible these devices are sending everything they hear back to our abductors, whether we activate them or not.
[He supposes there could be a magical element to it, but it's difficult to say. There's no obvious way to remove them, much less access their inner workings.]
no subject
[ She's seen it in her years: tools forged from the bowels of their buildings. Even the items not explicitly meant as weapons are used to destroy, to change. Tools to clear the forest, to turn trees and stone into materials used to then expand their properties, and killing what stands in their way. Taking what was never theirs to take. ]
I have no doubt that these creations would be used against us. Our... hosts may not be human, but clearly they utilise human culture as part of their little experiment. [ Bringing them to a human city, a human party. The humans here may be strange and not seem very much like humans at all with their odd... blankness, their stagnant reactions, but they're modeled after some sort of human life.
She hesitates, looking back up to him for a moment before holding up her own arm, and using her opposite hand to peel the long glove down off of it, dropping it on the floor without concern. There upon her wrist is her own metallic band, and it glows orange. Hesitant though she is about revealing any of this, maybe he's familiar with this sort of thing. And it's alarming to her that they've been placed into different colours. ]
They are categorising us, as well. Is your technology back home also used for such things? Have you seen it before?
no subject
No. Even if the intent is ultimately the same, this situation is different, and so is he.]
...we have means of identification, though they aren't forced on people this way. They do control access to certain parts of my city, however, so having none can be... restrictive.
An easy enough thing to weaponize, certainly. [The technology in this place doesn't really seem of a kind with the Scrywatches, so he hadn't considered it before, but they could serve a similar function, potentially. As for their different categories?]
These colors could well be arbitrary. Perhaps they'd like to see if we'll group ourselves accordingly. [Even if he has yet to see another yellow. Is he being singled out, even here?]
no subject
He certainly is knowledgeable in ways she may not be, having come from a world with such technology. She'll remember that, for she has the feeling that their experience with strange things in this place has only just begun. ]
Where I am from, colours have association with different magics. One knows by the colour of a thing what to stay clear of. [ She looks again to the orange of her own wrist, the yellow of his. ]
You are right. Their meaning could be completely different here, or even mean nothing at all. Perhaps in our search for someone to.... question [ interrogate ], we may keep an eye out for the colours that others have been assigned.
[ The pair of them trying to inconspicuously make note of everyone else's colours as they sneak around? Foolproof. ]
no subject
If we are being catalogued, it can't hurt to make note of them, in order to determine the criteria.
[They don't need to sneak so much as make direct eye contact with anyone who looks their way and intimidate them into pretending they saw nothing. Right?
Sephiroth tilts his head, an invitation for her to join him as he begins a circuit around the outside of the ballroom. He would prefer not to have to venture back onto the crowded dance floor.]
...out of curiosity, would I be something to avoid?
[He has definitely never considered yellow his color, but it might be slightly less distasteful if it communicated some sort of danger.]
no subject
As she moves, her eyes flit about, searching for anything worth seeing — glimpses of colours or of anything else that seems strange. Perhaps anyone that might be standing alone, watching the crowds; such a person could possibly be one of those responsible for all of this. It's hard to tell, though. The masks make it even harder to truly grasp people; her own bothers her, feathers at the edges of her vision. But she glances back to him at the question, considering it. ]
Where I am from, shades of yellow... gold... are associated with power. The power of the Earth. [ Not the gold of man, not a power related to commerce and wealth, but something much more ancient and sacred. ]
Fae magic is... mostly of such a hue. [ Her particular magic has another side to it, another colour, but gold is what is natural for the Dark Fey. ]
Mankind would certainly avoid you, for yellow. Fear you. [ Is there a little glimmer of mirth as she says that? Being feared is a power in itself, one she can well appreciate. ]
no subject
I don't think I would mind that. [He's accustomed to intimidating people, but not being someone to fear outright. Well, not off the battlefield.]
Although earth magic... hm. [He glances at her.] I suppose you mean something more than shaking the ground.
[Those are the sorts of earth elemental spells he knows, but it strikes him as an odd affinity for someone clearly meant for the air.
He returns his gaze to the crowd, but while he picks out a fellow Traveller here and there by the yellow sigils, it's difficult to ascertain the colors on their scrywatches beneath sleeves and through the sea of bodies. Harder still, it seems, to identify anyone else who stands out in some way.]