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.

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.

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.

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.
Vlad Tepes III | Dracula Untold | OTA (Will match prose/brackets)
i: The Temple/City
ii: The Masquerade
iii: Lost Carcosa
iv: Wildcard
ii: the masquerade
Benedict's certainly not going to pass it up.
Besides, a party is a good place to meet people, and he very much wants friends - or at least acquaintances - as he moves forward in this odd place. He flashes a smile to a man that's moving nearby.
"That's quite the mask," he says, referring to the dragon design. "It rather puts mine to shame, I should think."
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He lifts a hand to his own in a gesture. "I hardly made the choice, but I'm told it suits." With 'Son of the Dragon' as one of his many titles, it did, indeed, suit. His late wife would have found it amusing, more so the expression he wore under it that spoke of his thoughts on the matter. Balls could be silly things. This one was silly, but perhaps not such a waste of time, if he could glean a few things that could help him figure what was expected of them here. "I am Vlad Tepes, newly arrived. And yourself?"
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"Benedict Bridgerton. I'm newly arrived as well. It's not a terrible welcome to a place, all things considered, though I can't say I'm fond of the way these masks seem impossible to remove."
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He does find a small comfort in knowing that there is some way the masks come off, because there must be.
"Perhaps they'll all release upon midnight." That's when the unmasking traditionally happens, after all, so maybe they just have to suffer through it for a couple of hours.
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Dwelling on it would do him no good, nor his current companion. So perhaps it was best to get to know more of those who'd been displaced as he was. "So, Mr. Bridgerton, I'm curious to know where you're from and if it's a place I might find familiar."
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ii: The Masquerade
The dress is reminiscent of what the humans around her are wearing (a tacky little thing, she thinks, with its tassels hanging down. At least the Powers That Be had the sense to make it black for her). Her long hair and great horns are wrapped up in a headpiece, and her mask is a concoction of lacy swirls and raven feathers. With her own large wings held behind her, Maleficent certainly stands out, though perhaps they might be mistaken as further decoration for this whole.... masquerade.
It takes her a moment to recognise the man she had met under the moonlight: the man of many titles and many years, the man who could shatter into countless winged things. When she does, Maleficent's dark lips twitch and she moves to him, silent and smooth, one masked thing approaching another.
"A dragon," she remarks by way of greeting, lifting a gloved hand between them, fingers gesturing upwards to the steely mask upon his face. Something that may almost be fond curves her mouth; she has relied on dragons of her own. But she remembers one of the titles he'd shared with her — son of the dragon. This place indeed knows what adornments to give them. "It suits you."
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Her lips are a flare of red to match the ruby in his mask as she smiles and makes her way closer. He meets it with a pleased expression of his own. "Not nearly so much as yours suits you, Lady. I'd be remiss in not saying that you look delightfully dangerous." Other ladies, other females that were merely human might take that the wrong way. He rather hoped Maleficent took it in the spirit it was meant; honest respect and admiration.
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She does; there is a certain pride in being dangerous; it is something she has used as a means of control and power over the scrambling humans that encountered her in the past. It does not hurt her heart in any way to be seen as a source of terror from them; she enjoyed it. The quake of a man's knees as he faced her, the way his fingers trembled with whatever crafted weapon was held in his hands. Sometimes they dropped their weapons, when they came across her, saw her. She enjoyed that.
Tonight there are no screaming humans running from Maleficent, but it is nice to hear that she looks dangerous all the same, and she lets Vlad see the pleasure in her smile. "Are you managing to enjoy yourself at this little social gathering we have been so compelled to attend?"
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"Would you like something to drink? I smell wine and other spirits if you've a taste for them." As the gentlemen he rarely got to be, he didn't mind offering to hunt down something for her.
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"I must admit, my own experience with such matters is lacking." She casts an eye around the room, taking in the chattering attendees, the sweeping movement of dancing bodies, the pitch of laughter. Turning her head back to him, she gives a more quiet smile. "I am quite out of my element, here."
And so his offer of something to drink is met with a thoughtful pause. "Do they smell... safe, to you?" Her own senses are sharp, but fae abilities can be thwarted. Perhaps his senses can detect something hers cannot, and she frowns softly; Maleficent is... hesitant to drink what is offered here. Suspicious.
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"Then allow me the honor of being your guide for the evening, as long as you wish to stay in the midst of things. This may not be my element as much as the night is, but I've attended balls and galas before; enough to know my way around a gathering such as this."
She seems suspicious, but not of him, and he finds that perhaps the most amusing part of all. He, Vlad the Impaler, vampire of legend, feared by the people he ruled lovingly over as soon as they saw what he'd become for them, he caused no fear in this magnificent beauty. She was more suspicious of the laughing couple to their left than she was of him, and he found a pleasure in that. He hadn't been trusted in a very long time. Hadn't been close enough to someone to earn it. It was a welcome balm to an old wound. "They smell of nothing more than spirits and wine, but I will happily test a sip of anything you're concerned about beforehand. Poisons have no effect on me, as I am already a thing so close to death."
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iii
In her own thoughts, she nearly missed Vlad where he sat but, upon spotting and recognizing him, she made her way toward him. When he spoke, his words quiet against the backdrop of waves, she crouched down in front of him on the balls of her feet, boots held in one hand. She noticed the skull and its strange grin but failed to recognize the feelings it pressed into her, "You can tell me about her if you want."
He listened to her with understanding when they first met; she's more than willing to offer that in return.
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A tear slid slowly down his face, the smile melting into something hollow.
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"...it doesn't have to be one or the other." Her hand twitched and she reached up to touch his cheek but seemed to suddenly reconsider, hand falling. Just because he reminded her of Chris didn't mean she could treat him like Chris, "but it doesn't matter why you did it. You did what you felt you had to. Needed to."
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Her hand lifted towards him, and he felt a moment of surprise. Sharon hadn't come across to him as someone prone to physical signs of affection. It seemed proven when her hand withdrew before contact was made, and he gave her a small smile. "Knowing it, justifying it, doesn't stop it from hurting. It never has. Time dulls the edge of it a bit, so it's no longer something that cuts every time I breathe. But I'll always miss her. And I think I'd hate to forget that."
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"And even if you did forget, I think some things are etched onto our souls."
She knew some things lingered long after the memories have faded like childhood scars. She knew because she spent eighteen long years with no memories of her past and yet those years were spent haunted by a fear she couldn't even put to word.
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He had so very much bad on his, which is likely why he clung to the good so tightly. "I am grateful for your words, and your ear. It's... nice to be heard. To have someone willing to listen." To have feel he could speak of things long past and not have someone think him mad.
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i, the city
It's not a very fruitful attempt so far. Even if it weren't for the scrywatch, he stands out by virtue of being a guy with wings. These people look pretty standard, and Hawks just...doesn't. That's sometimes an advantage back home, even if all that gives him is a reputation. Here, it just means weird looks and a lack of trust. Well, fine. He can try another tactic.
Back towards the temple, he sees another man hanging out half in shadow as he travels. The glow of the device on his wrist marks him as a fellow Traveller. Hawks decides to try that track instead of relying on the locals.
He flaps his wings just enough to catch up, letting his feet touch the ground again a few feet away from Vlad.
"You know, you blend in a lot better than I do, but these wrists damn us to other-dom, huh?"
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Vlad himself was adjusting to a few differences, one being that he couldn't quite feel the same tie to the weather he'd once held, but as he also wasn't feeling the same scorching burn from the sun either, he considered it a fair trade. "I daresay you'd have a harder time than I going unnoticed."
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He laughs good-naturedly at the wing thing. "Yeah, it's pretty hard to hide 'em unless I shed all my feathers for awhile. I like 'em where they are though." He doesn't elaborate on that. It's not really giving away a secret or weakness; it's pretty common knowledge where he's from that he can shed them. It's not necessarily common knowledge that they take a few days to grow back, but, why worry about it right now?
"Don't think the locals appreciate any of it too much, though. Were you on the last island? Those people really didn't seem to like any of us, wings or not."
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Hawks seemed... affable. Relaxed. It had the corner of his mouth tipping up in a smile. "I was. I can hardly blame them. They didn't ask for our intrusion. They've likely been victim to whatever whims drew us here for long enough for fear to be ingrained." This from the man that had seen the same fear and suspicion on the faces of those along the trail of war. They always suffered the most, poor souls. "Better to leave them to their own and give them no cause to suffer more than they may have from other... visitors."
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He tilts his head curiously at Vlad's assessment of the last place they'd been thrown at. His easygoing manner doesn't really change, though.
"Huh. You think these people on these islands have been doing this awhile? Makes sense. Wonder what makes us different from whoever came first. Probably not a whole damn lot to the residents of these islands."
It does make him wonder, though. Did the others fail somehow? His question is a real one. What is the difference, anyway?
"I didn't find anything super useful on the last one. Maybe we'll shed some light here we didn't there. Don't get me wrong. I don't buy any of that whole shtick about redemption. But it's like believing in fairies or something, right? Why take a chance just in case something is true." He waits for Vlad's opinion on that one.
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The last question, the one the winged man seemed to be waiting for an answer to had him giving a one-shouldered shrug to. "Redemption is something all those who've sinned should stride towards. At least attempting to do so means one has the potential to be redeemed. I've met men and monsters that see no ill in monstrous actions. No need for redemption, because they have no fault. It's always the ones that need it the most that fail to see it. Truth? The truth is what you have faith in. What lies in your own heart."
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