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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
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."
no subject
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!
no subject
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?"
no subject
Then Kyle mentions kids and her whole body goes still, tail dropping to the stage with a "thunk", ears pinning back. When she opens her eyes, it's with a weirdly human, pained look. Then Saxsice steps back, shaking herself all over and trying to cover for her bizarre reaction by scratching furiously at her ear, turning her back to Kyle.
no subject
It's difficult to miss the change in Saxsice's posture, because she's not a normal wolf. A normal canine might start licking its butthole in front of you as a talk and it doesn't mean a thing, but one with human intelligence? It understands.
"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry," Kyle says. "Uhm. We don't have to talk about kids. I'm not having kids, so. I mean, most likely. Which my mom'll probably have a fit about." He realises he's still talking about it, so he shuts his mouth and focuses on picking wolf hair off of his trousers.
no subject
"No, you're fine, just a touchy subject." The voice comes from the middle of the fur cloud, accompanied by the sound of Saxsice spitting out a mouthful of fuzz. "Ugh. Blech. But yeah, I was human all nine months. You're right about that." More spitting. Presumably she's just chilling clothes-less on the stage, but there's so many clumps of fur still stuck to her that it's not noticeable at all.
no subject
"Yeah. Sorry about bringing it up. I think I have a talent for just stumbling over the most sensitive subjects." Still not looking at her.
"That was really cool, though. The transformation thing. Not nearly as scary as I was expecting."
no subject
Then she shakes her head, hugging her knees to her chest and seeming to consider the merit of saying something further. Finally: "It's okay. I'm -- used to not talkin' about it. And it sucks, cause I'm here and he's...not. Y'know?" She tilts her head to one side, watching Kyle intently. "You missin' anyone?"
The comment about the transformation gets a still-very-toothy grin. "Thanks. It sounds worse'n it looks, all those bones creakin' and crackin'. I think it'd suck more if I was in-between, like you were sayin'. Part man, part beast."
no subject
"Nah, it's cool. I mean, nudity is just a human hangup ANYway."
He takes a seat again, brows knitting together. "Yeah. That's fucking rough. Me? Uhm. I guess so, but I'll be totally honest - I've spent the last four years more or less on my own besides going home to visit. So I think I always kinda miss people. This is new, though, this whole... being in a strange place without anybody else I know."
He grins back. "I saw this movie once with like, this teenage girl who got bit by a werewolf and the whole thing was like... a puberty allegory? So her ladybeast form was designed to be attractive. That was kinda cool."
no subject
She lets that hang for a moment, then: "Nah, I'm shittin' you, we never did that. But you definitely believed we did." Shifting to get comfortable, she raises and lowers her shoulders. "It gets easier with practice -- the whole bein' totally alone. You either get to love yourself or totally hate yourself, but either way you're stuck with yourself."
Saxsice nods seriously, scrunching up her nose. "I might like the whole wolfy thing better if it was an allegory. Y'know, like I was doin' somethin'...cosmically significant?" She shrugs, lifting her hand and waving around her Scrywatch -- bright yellow, like a streetlight -- in demonstration. "But that's what we're supposed to be doin' here, right? Findin' our place in the universe? Multiverse? Whatever."
no subject
He holds up his wrist a little as well. It too is bright yellow. "I guess so. Right now I feel like we should find our way out of the empty theatre."
no subject
It takes a moment for his suggestion to sink in, but once it does, she hops up, fluff going out everywhere. She's like the grimy kid from the Peanuts cartoon, with fur instead of dirt. "Oh yeah, cool, I forgot we could do that. Maybe I can kick down the door or something. Unless you've got a secret lock-picking talent you haven't mentioned yet?"
no subject
He slips off the stage and shakes his head. "Nope. I am like... the most boring human being to ever live, sorry." He walks to the door, expecting resistance. The result is that when he pulls hard on it he nearly falls backwards because it opens no problem.
"Shit!"
no subject
And then, because she's a Kind and Supportive person, when Kyle almost falls over she...bursts into laughter. Nice. "Oh my god, you good?"
no subject
To be fair, he looks really, really stupid. "Yeah, I'm cool," he says as he manages to regain his footing. "I, uh. Kind of assumed it was gonna be stuck. I guess whatever we were meant to do, we did."
no subject
She's still snickering as she hops by him, out into the night air, letting out a huge, relieved sigh. "Yep, sharin' that there childhood trauma did it. Just like, uhhhh group therapy or somethin'." She shakes her hair out, then pauses, looking back at Kyle. "You want your jacket back? Think I'm gonna go catch rabbits or somethin'."
no subject
Outside he groans. "I do not have a great history with group therapy," he admits. He nods, turning away. "Sure. Just, uh, leave it there, I'll grab it when you've run off to eat bunnies."
no subject
The mention of group therapy has her mildly curious, but now that she's thinking about bunnies, that's where her attention is. So there's more of those alarming cracking/tearing noises, and then a cold wolfy nose is nudged into Kyle's hand, leaving it slobbery. Saying a polite goodbye.