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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
Though she isn't sure how much they might be able to do, exactly. Or how much they might care. Though that's too dark a thought to linger on for too long. As is the thought that the undead crawling out of the sea may be part of a grander test of character. Or perhaps a punishment for those who defy the lure the skull seemed to have.
"Oh, no. I'm fine. Please don't worry." Still, she glances down to her arm to make sure it appears nothing other than human. "And you? You're alright?" She looks him over for any obvious signs of injury that she may have missed before. "Are you tired from using your... abilities?" As it seems better to let the man himself to give the precise terminology rather than assume.
no subject
If those little things don't seem to care, perhaps he'll just come back down to the beach, himself, to make sure nothing is crawling up from it, still. But, later.
"Entirely unscathed! Not a scratch on me, fortunately enough." He nods, pretending not to see her glancing down at her arm. Pretending not to wonder what it was, exactly, that he saw out there, in the fog. "And there's plenty left where that came from. It'll take more than a couple of fireballs to run me out of magic."
no subject
“Someone would have to care, wouldn’t they?” she wonders aloud, curious as to his opinion on the matter before she shares too much of her own. No need to darken the night further with ideas of the undead purposefully being part and parcel of whatever machinations may be at play.
A relieved smile on her lips, Chloe gives a nod. “Those creatures clearly underestimated us.” It’s said with the kind of confidence that’s intended to bring a little levity. Create a tiny bit of breathing room. “So it is magic.” The smiles turns a tad embarrassed and self-conscious. “I’m sorry if I seem ignorant. I’m not very well-versed in, well, spells and such. It is fascinating, though.” Apparently Chloe is quite content to fill that breathing room with chat.
no subject
"I've got a funny feeling we're going to be searching a while for someone who doesn't think all this is perfectly ordinary, actually." Or at least not interesting enough to bother with. Unless those few or any help around here are all hiding out somewhere they've simply overlooked - and that doesn't exactly lighten his spirits in the least - they simply don't seem to exist.
Well, beyond their fellow Travelers, anyway. But Anders is just as reluctant to start looking for leadership among a bunch of lost strangers. At least outside the moment.
"You'd be the first to say so who wasn't well-versed in spells and such." His own smile is thin and not especially light, a rare failure of the careless facade he tries so hard to project. But it doesn't leak into his tone, this time, at least. "Usually it's frightening more than fascinating."
no subject
Those who are above the common masses have no need to divulge their true natures, do they? Their true intentions. Why win or lose the game when you can create it in the first place?
Before she gets too lost within her own thoughts, Chloe blinks a couple of times. Looks back over her shoulder at where they've come from and finally to Anders. "If we can't seem to find any assistance, I think I'll go back. To warn people to stay away, at the very least." And if she can stock up on thirium at the temple, possibly more. She might not be able to do much, but something must be better than nothing.
Although uncommented upon, the slight shift in his demeanour is noted. Yes, she can imagine others being afraid of such a power. The way her smile and eyes soften suggests some level of understanding. "If you don't mind me saying so, I think it's amazing. Out of all the frightening things, you're certainly not one of them. Far from it."
no subject
He practically blanches at hers (if he wasn't pale from that horrible encounter still, already), surprise cutting through the darker thoughts lurking in his expression. Also, the very uncannily similar ones.
"You can't go back out there alone," he insists, a touch incredulously. She's unarmed, and by her own profession, not exactly equipped for a fight otherwise. ...Not that he's rushing to volunteer himself, either. No matter what he was just thinking. Some foolish notions are best kept to oneself.
Not unlike his simply unparalleled - and priorly unrealized - desire to have someone call his magic amazing. Well, someone other than another mage, secretly desperate to convince themselves of the same. It's not a prevailing opinion in Thedas, outside those small circles. His expression contracts oddly, not quite a smile (too surprised) lurking under the surface, but at least that distasteful edge has mellowed out of it. "I suppose I'll take that as a compliment, in spite of how hard I've tried to be absolutely terrifying. It was all the handholding that ruined it, wasn't it?"
no subject
She should be doing something, for once. Wouldn't that make up part of a journey towards redemption?
"Let's hope we can find that authority figure instead," she offers to pacify, throwing on a smile that shines with the possibility that they might find someone out there who doesn't want to see Travelers reduced to a zombie's next meal. Even if the sentiment is only on the surface.
Ah. Her gushing over magic seems to have been a misstep. As much as she doesn't want to cause further upset, it isn't like she can outright agree with him. Whatever messages he may have received to make him think such a thing of himself, Chloe won't join that chorus. However, to be too earnest may not prove to be as reassuring as she'd hope. Given the seeming inclination towards the blithe, she attempts to echo similar. "Would you you settle for illustriously imposing? Fantastically formidable?"
no subject
But he's less concerned with redeeming himself (from what?) than simply getting out of here.
She doesn't chase that momentary fault, and he's grateful enough for it to plaster on a more convincing smile over his melodramatic sigh. "Ah, well, I'll just have to take what I can get. Obviously I've lost my edge."
Not that it was ever there to begin with. Anders has made a lifelong career out of making himself seem as harmless as possible. (Easily enough, considering he isn't all that much.)
"I think the temple's right up here. Er... If I remember right."
no subject
"Oh, I think what you did back there shows you have plenty of edge," she argues with a smile. The unspoken continuation is that said edge doesn't necessarily fearsome in her eyes. "And bravery, swooping in to rescue the damsel in distress. But I'll try my best to resist showering you with compliments." Something that comes easily to her, no matter how uncomfortable or awkward it may make others feel. Genuine as she is (or feels she is), catering to the ego is a function of design.
With the temple coming into view, Chloe stops. "You don't have to escort me all the way, not if you don't want to." The company isn't minded at all. What does make her twitchy is the idea of excusing herself to chug some thirium. Or drinking it in front of him. It could look normal enough - just your everyday bottle of water, don't mind a thing - but the stunt on the beach might have already made her look pretty odd as it is.
"Not that I'm trying to shoo you away after all the trouble I've put you through... I just mean it's up to you, that's all."
no subject
It's easier just to be superficial, in general.
Anders shrugs, pulling up short beside her. "I think I'd prefer to be certain the damsel is entirely out of distress, before I take my leave. It wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me, otherwise."
And it's this or run off back down to the beach to try and make sense of that chaos, anyway. At least here he knows he's doing something decent.
no subject
She wasn't made to be an empty-headed dolt making ridiculous remarks. An asinine harpy who mistakes herself as cute.
"Alright. If you're sure you don't mind. I am perfectly fine, though. Really." Or she will be shortly. Those system warnings continue to prod at her in the background. Her functioning isn't impaired enough for them to be anything other than an annoyance.
Falling back in step with him, she heads into the temple. Sure enough, there's still thirium amongst the supplies. A bottle is grabbed, and the awkward muttering begins. "I'm sorry... Just... Excuse me for a moment...?"
Without wandering too far, Chloe keeps her back to him as she downs the contents of the bottle in a not very lady-like fashion. Right now, time seems more pertinent than manners. She makes sure to wipe her mouth with her back of her hand and then the hand on her clothing. With the blue blood replaced and system stable, she's all smiles when she goes back to Anders.
"Shall we see if there's somewhere vaguely comfortable to sit? And would you like something to eat?" she asks, more content to do the looking after than being the one looked after.
no subject
"Really," he repeats, a touch disbelieving, but doesn't push it any further. There's no need to, regardless, as they're already on the verge of entering the temple proper, and she's clearly in no danger of immediately keeling over.
Her behavior once they actually get inside is... a little more concerning. But he doesn't insist on following, when she ducks away with her hastily grabbed bottle - even if he does peer after her curiously, still. Why she'd feel the need to run off just to drink a potion, he can't possibly imagine, but perhaps it's impolite not to, wherever she's from. Either way, she looks well enough when she returns, as he pretends to have been entirely minding his own business, during her brief sojourn to the other end of the hall.
"Maybe another time. Strangely, I don't have much of an appetite, at the moment." The brackish, sea salt smell of the fog and the images of walking corpses it conjures is going to linger on him a while, he suspects. "I wouldn't mind a quick breather, though."
Although this place seems to be all high ceilings and dubious comfort, at the moment.
no subject
"Yes, of course." There is, however, an apology in her smile at that point. One's stomach probably doesn't feel much like being filled after what they've witnessed. Foolish to ask, really. She recovers with a lighter, "Though you will have to let me make something for you sometime." Assuming that she would be able to throw something at least semi-decent together with what they have access to. And if he would even want her to.
Far from homely, the temple doesn't seem to offer too many comforts. Not to worry. There are a few blankets that haven't been claimed by other Travelers and so Chloe grabs a couple. One is folded into a square and the other wrapped around it to create a makeshift cushion.
"Here," she says, offering the crafted cushion to him. "I know it's not the height of luxury but it may make taking a breather a little more cosy."
no subject
The cushion he's a little more apprehensive about, though he accepts it if only to be polite.
"I'm sure it will. But what about you? It's not exactly big enough to share."