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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.
II. MASQUERADE
Though she does earn more than a few stares for her appearance, there are no cries of fear or disgust; she is able to move throughout the crowds as she likes. The gloves and dress she finds on her person are.... silly, she doesn't think much of them, but at least they got her colour right. Her long hair is wrapped up in a headpiece, and the mask she has been assigned is also quite appropriate for her, with its flurry of black raven feathers. She certainly makes a statement, her own wings ever taking up space. It's awkward, even as she keeps them tucked behind herself; they drag the ground as she walks (barefoot, having discarded her heels long ago).
When she sees the young man approaching, Maleficent almost smiles, a familiarity sparking in her eyes, and she turns to him. Among all of her fellow Travelers here, this one stands out, and she nods her head to him now. Hawks, he'd introduced himself as, before she had also given her name in exchange.
"Indeed, it would seem that our hosts enjoy dressing us up like dolls." Once more, she's not too thrilled about their situation here, or about being directed the way they have been. What power is around them clearly knows what's in their spirits, choosing attire that is painfully accurate.
Maleficent takes in his own mask, birdlike, and then glances down to the yellow symbol he refers to. She lifts her hand, slender fingers shifting slowly, and a sparkling gold shimmers to the sigil on his suit front. But it simply dances off of it, as though repelled by some force. With another wave of her hand, her magic disappears into the air, and her sharp eyes cut to the drink in his hand now.
"Are you certain that drinking what they offer is wise? Clearly their magics are manipulative and strong here. Even my own cannot counter it."
no subject
"At least these clothes are nice, right?" he answers. Though he'd like to know how it works. He doesn't really know much about magic, such as it is. A lot of quirks seem like magic. Even his fave, Endeavor, can light himself on fire and all that. He knows it's science and all, but he remembers being a kid and thinking how magical some quirks seemed compared with his own. Though to be fair, he can do some shit with his feathers that people would never expect.
His eyes go wide, visible even with the mask on, at whatever that magic is. Right. That's actual magic she's got, not like a quirk. Maybe it's splitting hairs to think of the difference, but until he knows what the rules and limits are, he can keep thinking of her power as magic and his own as just a quirk.
"Whoa. Guess they really want these symbols to stay put, right?"
He laughs and waves his free hand dismissively. "Hey, now. No one said I'm drinking this. Just seemed prudent to blend in. At least as much as I can. Gotta play the game if we're gonna learn anything about this place, y'know?"
no subject
"I could do without all the sparkling."
His reaction to her magic is.... interesting. Maleficent still assumes that he is something like her, even if not exactly like her. There is no scent of fae about him, but his wings.... To be so surprised by her display of fae magic is telling. She wonders about him, tilts her head slightly to the side as she watches him.
"It would seem we have been marked rather thoroughly."
The reply about blending in gives her an almost impressed lift of both eyebrows this time. "Well, now. That is wise of you. Considering how little we may blend in otherwise." There's a hint of amusement there, her eyes shifting to the wing behind one of his shoulders, before returning to the young man's face.
"And have you learned anything thus far?"
no subject
He watches the way she watches him and it's interesting, like everything about her. What is she, anyway? He doesn't know, but he'd like to. Humans really fucked up mistreating her, he thinks. He's not so cynical that he thinks the worst of all humans. Some of them are shit, some aren't. He doesn't have some high moral horse to be on. He's a hero but sometimes that doesn't have the moral quality people think it should. He has no aspirations whatsoever to be All Might, after all.
He ruffles his feathers a little because he's a show off.
"I don't mind standing out. Sucks that these folks don't really trust any of us, though."
He looks away from her out at the crowd, the sea of masked faces. There's something going on at this party, but he can't put his finger on it yet. They keep talking about secrets, but...that's just a theme, right? Jury's out so far.
He swirls his drink in his glass and still doesn't drink it.
"Haven't learned a whole lot, no. There's a temple here that looks like no one cares about it. Otherwise?" He shrugs, shoulders and wings both rising and falling. "What about you? Anything noteworthy here versus the last island?"
no subject
But clearly, her companion in arms (....wings) here is a bit more of a showy character, made ever the more clear by his statement that he doesn't mind standing out. Maleficent allows a small, almost amused touch of a thing upon her lips; her tolerance of him is higher by default, simply because of him not being a normal human. If he were a normal man, she likely wouldn't even still be standing here talking to him. She isn't exactly subtle about her prejudice of humans (and of course, is still assuming he isn't one).
"Let us hope that they don't decide to turn hostile towards your effervescence, then."
Her eyes cut down to his drink as he swirls it, watching the liquid swish round once or twice. It's all for show; he knows how to play a game.
"I have not visited the temple yet." It's on her to-do list. "But I have heard others speak of it. Yellow seems to be an important colour, in this place." The yellow of the sigils, the yellow of the effigy others have spoken about in the temple. A fact she's keeping close to the forefront of her perspective here; Maleficent knows better than most that colour can have a very specific power.
"Only that the humans here seem to be of a different... era, than the ones before. Is it a time familiar to yours?" She's gathered by now that the Travelers here are brought from a variety of times.
no subject
"Let's hope," he says. He has no idea what these people are planning, what power they might have concealed, what it is they're meant to do here. This party hasn't given many clues, other than the sigils.
"Yeah, there was some yellow thing in the temple, too. I hate to admit it, but I don't know a lot about magic or symbols. Even if I did, it might not matter. The rules here could be different. It would be nice if that boat guy had given us more than a vague clue about what we're doing here, y'know? Redemption, saving, blah blah. Nice words, but they could mean a lot of different things."
He glances out at the surroundings then back at Maleficent. "The time? Nope. I'm from something that I feel is way in the future from this. This looks like...uh...Jazz Age, was it? Something like that. Long time ago for my world."
She pauses just slightly before era, though. What is her world even like, other than apparently oppressive to people like her? If there even are any people like her.
"I'm guessing it's not like anything you've known before, huh?"
no subject
Perhaps he's been.... clipped, figuratively; she's so recently learned of experiments done to the fae folk back home. Perhaps someone got ahold of him, stifled his magic with a dark curse.
"Jazz Age. What an odd term." Jazz? The age of jazz? She isn't familiar with that either, giving a rare, almost comical expression of confusion for Maleficent. "No, this is.... quite different." While she isn't one to share much, she's prompted further by the nature of her present company alone: she'll offer some to him, the way she wouldn't to someone of human appearance.
"Where I am from.... Mankind has begun its progression into the Wood, stealing land from the fae to build structures, but none so... perfected as what can be found in this city. There are castles of stone and wood. Not... gold." This city is gilded in sleek angles and perfection, the likes of which Maleficent has never seen. "And the people do not dress this way." She looks down to her sequinned dress, her exposed legs.
"It seems the people of this Jazz Age are far more frivolous. Dancing about like buffoons."
no subject
So her world sounds kind of...medieval? No tech, no real cities, all of that. He really can't imagine it. He's so grounded in his own time and experience. But then, aren't they all?
He laughs at her criticism of the party, though.
"You'd probably be real confused about my world. We have parties, too, but they're way cooler than this. Louder, though. More lights and stuff like that. But you know, the dress looks nice on you. Even if it's not what you'd pick for yourself."
She's strange, but he likes her, so why not drop that compliment?
no subject
"Your world sounds less and less delightful," she informs him with a little dry dose of sardonicism. Louder parties, brighter lights? Maleficent's mental image of such a place is hardly a desirable one. She's much more accustomed to the gloom.
Though his compliment makes her pause, not too used to such things. The kneejerk is typically to coldly balk from Being Perceived in such a way, to scorn him, but once again, he gets something of a pass due to having wings. An unfair bias, certainly, but it's hers and Maleficent has no concern for being fair.
So all he gets is a purse of the lips, and a little hum of thought. "I must say, I'd prefer more skulls, but they don't seem to be in style for this particular era."
no subject
Yeah, so, that tracks. But he'd rather let her tell him her own side; bias from his own world won't serve him here. And she hates humans. He'd like to stay on her good side while he can.
"If you're not used to it, probably. I like my world. My country. My life."
Not always, but why harp on it?
"But I'm a product of my society, y'know? I like parties and loud shit and fighting villains. I mean, I want a world where heroes don't have to be running ragged all the time. That's the dream, to live your life the way you want without all those obligations. To me, your world sounds pretty stressful. And mean. Discriminatory. Being totally removed from our regular places in the world is...disconcerting." That's an understatement but it works for now.
He's not sure if she doesn't like compliments or isn't used to them. But he's always been the type to push buttons on purpose, so it's not like he's going to reassess and not do it again.
"Surely somewhere on this island is a nice skull we can grab for you," he says with a laugh. (He'll regret this comparison later when he encounters that freaky skull on the beach.)