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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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medeiun: ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴛɪsᴛs (Default)

Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE

[personal profile] medeiun 2021-05-03 01:20 am (UTC)(link)
Maleficent is not too fond of the little shindig, herself. She doesn't fancy having so many people around, awkward and out of place. She can't exactly blend in, either; oh, they've assigned her the right clothing, but she makes an almost abrasively grand statement with her great wings and horns, now covered in a leathery headpiece.

Her own mask is also quite extravagant, a blossom of black raven feathers extending out from the side of the mask's lacy structure. No matter where she goes, she draws attention, her wings trailing behind her.

She catches sight of the young man, and though it takes her a moment to recognise him with his own mask on, she does after a long moment or two. The woman sweeps closer, just in time to hear what he's murmuring to himself, pulling at the covering on his face.

'It's a secret'. It's what the partygoers have said, the ones not wearing the yellow symbols. Maleficent raises a sharp brow, golden eyes staring intently at him through her own mask.

"What have you found out?"
everlastingchains: (6)

[personal profile] everlastingchains 2021-05-04 03:32 am (UTC)(link)
It's her again. The woman from the library of memories. The woman who chastised him about his reckless hunger for knowledge yet still helped him when she turned out to be right. She's rather difficult to miss, with those wings and those horns. And because he does owe her, he does his best not to stare openly. Victor is still working though his Victorian sensibilities about tight short dresses with fringe on them.

He makes it a point to look only at her face, at her eyes. It'll keep him from ending up tongue tied and scandalized. He's still unnerved by the color, so close to that of his First.

He gives his heavy metal mask another weak tug. "I've found that they seem overly fond of word play by half. But why they'd want a secret, I haven't the faintest idea. They don't seem overly concerned to hear them." Which means he's puzzled it out but hasn't been able to speak a secret. "In fact, looking at them, they mostly just seem terribly inebriated."
medeiun: ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴛɪsᴛs (Default)

[personal profile] medeiun 2021-05-08 05:42 pm (UTC)(link)
For all of the grief she'd given him about his pursuit of knowledge, Maleficent figures he might have stuck his nose into things here, found something out with that persistence of his. And it seems she's right, falling silent to listen to what the young man relays to her. She's been mostly avoiding the people here, the ones without the yellow sigils marking them as part of the same category as herself. She doesn't know they're after secrets..... so she's staring at Victor intently, actually looking quite interested in what he's saying.

"They want secrets?" The fae's mouth tightens, purses as she looks out at the crowd. That is.... worrisome. She doesn't care for that at all.

But they don't seem concerned to hear them? Her brows quirk again as she returns her gaze to Victor, confused by this contradiction of information. His agitation that she'd noted from across the room suggests that he is, too.

"What a conundrum." She mulls softly. "Either way, I have no interest in sharing any secrets of my own. And I suggest you do the same. Secrets hold great power, in fae magic. I imagine they hold just as much power in this place."
everlastingchains: (such a fine line)

[personal profile] everlastingchains 2021-05-09 02:19 am (UTC)(link)
He gives a curt nod at the question. That's at least what he assumes to be the key to this all. From observation, those with masks say something to one another and then take their masks off. He can only conclude that it must be something they've said and the only other clue had been those words. But she is indeed right that he isn't very pleased with the contradiction. Why demand secrets and then simply go on like they'd not been spoken?

"I believe that is how these masks are removed. It is a secret. Shared with someone else, spoken out loud. Brought into the light of day as it were. A verbal unmasking, if I hazard a guess." Victor doesn't seem too terribly fond of that idea either. He isn't one to simply give out his secrets.

"I've read children's stories to that effect. The power of secrets and promises." That, until this woman, were Victor's only true understanding of the fae. He hadn't believed in them, but then again, until a year ago, he hadn't believed in Vampires or Demons.

"The question is what happens if we don't speak some secret. I've yet to determine what that might be. Just as I've yet to really discover how large of a secret must be shared. Though to you, I suppose a weak secret would still hold great power, wouldn't it?"
medeiun: ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴛɪsᴛs (pic#14784903)

[personal profile] medeiun 2021-05-19 10:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Maleficent continues to listen to his ideas, genuinely giving them thought. The masks... removed with a secret. If that is true, then the magic binding the adornments to their faces is indeed highly powerful. It's...... a personal magic, tailored to each one of them, to what's in their hearts.

Oh no, she very, very much does not like this. Her expression sours as she glowers around the room again, taking in the various types of masks on all of the attendees.

"Yes — secrets, even the weak ones, are.... along the same severity as promises," she gives a slight nod to his words, looking back to the young man. "To share a secret is to expose part of one's spirit. It can be very dangerous. ....And what will they do with their little collection of acquired secrets, I wonder?"

It sounds like ammunition to be used against them, in her opinion. Regarding what may happen if they don't speak a secret, though.... it certainly is a deep concern. Slowly, she reaches up to touch her own mask, fingertips pressing against its lace.

"If this magic is powerful enough... we may be punished if we do not acquiesce. We could even die." ....She's certainly no optimist, but this isn't even Maleficent being negative right now; she's simply being realistic. Magic can drain the very life out of something.