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polymods ([personal profile] polymods) wrote in [community profile] polylogs2021-05-01 03:00 pm

Destination: Carcosa

POLYMYTHOS: 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!


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ungodlily: (ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇs)

[personal profile] ungodlily 2021-06-08 11:48 am (UTC)(link)
Sharon had no reason not to believe Vlad, not when he's seemed so genuine. She knew how truly awful humanity could be and she knew it was even worse the further one went back in history, not that it ever got much better in her opinion. For whatever horrors they'd forced upon him, they deserved the pain they suffered in return. The painful truth of the matter was that regardless of the vengeance taken, it would never ever be enough.

"It's hard for them not to be surprised when they believe they're doing the right thing. I mean, you can do anything if you do it in the name of God." The words came out sharp and bitter. God is such a convenient excuse. She scowled, though not at him, "Hell, one part of the Order thought what I did was a sign they were right. The other saw it as a sign that I was to give birth to their god."

It tainted her vengeance, though it hardly stopped her from letting it continue.

"Did the Turks know why they were suffering? Or did they close their eyes to their own sins, too?" It wouldn't surprise her. For some reason, awful people can always find justification for their actions.
vladpire: (Talking - 3)

[personal profile] vladpire 2021-06-10 06:59 am (UTC)(link)
"Ah, yes. The shield of faith to hide atrocities behind." He was a man of God himself, or at least still had faith in the Lord. He was cursed by evil, it would be foolish to believe otherwise. But he'd both heard and been witness to horrible things, monstrous things done in 'the name of God'. Genocide. Torture. Evil excused as being done to evil, so it was clearly not evil. Faith allowed for people to ignore their own hypocrisy. At least his own acts of horror were done with foresight in what he was doing and why.

He sat there with Sharon, listening to the sounds of the night around them, to the sound of pain and anger in her voice, and he wished he could do more than just listen. Sometimes it was enough. Sometimes it wasn't. He sighed at her question, thinking of Mehmed and his arrogance. "They followed their leader. They were not given free thought to think for themselves. Mehmed... thought himself infallible, thought himself above the rest of the world. We were his toys, his subjects. I don't think he was capable of seeing his own actions as a sin or as anything but the way it should be, because he'd sunk himself in the illusion of being something he was not. Untouchable." Vlad had shattered that illusion rather violently.

"You've suffered, Sharon. Would you change what you'd done in response?"
ungodlily: (ғʟᴏᴀᴛ ᴜᴘ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ)

[personal profile] ungodlily 2021-06-10 10:06 pm (UTC)(link)
All the worst people in the world thought they were untouchable, that they had certain rights over those beneath them. They were right more often than they weren't. She felt a flutter of satisfaction at Vlad's response. The world was cruel and justice was rare, so rare that she took a hint of delight every time it was taken. And justice always had to be taken.

Sharon shifted the way she sat, moving from the balls of her feet to her knees. Her lips pressed into a thin, thoughtful line at the question, clearly uncertain. Would she? Could she have? The idea made her chest tight and cold and anxious. Finally, she shook her head.

"I don't even know if I'd have been able to even if I had wanted to." She admitted, throat tight, a lump forming. "I meant it when I said I broke after the fire, just not how you would imagine. See, I couldn't move or speak, or even think through the pain. All of that, it splintered... I think it splintered my soul."

"And another me was born from that. She was all of my rage without the limitations of my physical body."
vladpire: (Talking - 1)

[personal profile] vladpire 2021-06-11 09:06 pm (UTC)(link)
She spoke of something he wasn't entirely unfamiliar with, though he wouldn't say his soul had been splintered. More like stained. But he'd heard of similar things happening to others; traumatic events making their minds do things unheard of to protect themselves. He may have been burned to 'death' by the sun himself, but that wasn't nearly the same as suffering at the hands of others as a child. Not to that degree. "Then they were taken by the thing they created. If they'd left you be, this... other self wouldn't exist. That rage wouldn't have been kindled. They were the architects of their own destruction." And he had no sympathy for those that preyed on children, no matter the reason. Too many claimed the necessity of innocent blood for a just cause.

When all the innocents were used as sacrifice, what else was left but the monsters?