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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.
Victor Frankenstein | Penny Dreadful | OTA
He stands simply staring at the city before him in the distance. Glass and gold and architecture that comes right from the minds of speculative fiction. He longs to draw it, to make his way to the city and go immediately to where science and engineering abounds and learn all he can. Instead, he takes to wondering, small bag of the important items he has been given held tightly to his side as if it was his medical bag. He longs for the comfort of that as well.
He makes to the temple, stands at the door, peeking inside to see the strange branches done up in human effigy. He finds himself quietly quoting Rossetti. "Unripe harvest there hath none to reap it from the misty gusty place, unripe vineyard there hath none to keep it in unprofitable space."
Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
Victor has never had a very good time at these sort of social events. He prefers to not drink, not dance unless he absolutely must, not really talk with strangers. That reluctance is made all the worse by the fact that he's in a style of clothing that feels deeply uncomfortable to him. He feels absolutely overdressed. He's only worn clothing this nice once. The mask just adds another layer to it. It feels like the wires and switches that he would have in his laboratory grafted to part of his face. Not enough to hide how frustrated he's getting the more he tugs at it.
"It's a secret..." He grumbles. It's a puzzle of course and one that's pretty easy to figure out, but he's not certain he wants to tell a stranger his most valuable secrets.
Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA
[Screeching. There is a loud inhuman wailing coming from the beach. The fog is rolling in at a truly disturbing rate. And right next to the screaming, flat on his rear end in the sand, is Victor.
The skull is at his feet and it screams and screams and doesn't seem to stop. Victor scrambles forward instead of away, trying to desperately stuff it back into the yellow cloth he had found with it and wrapped it in.
All he wanted was to take the skull back to town and examine it!! But now, now the thing is making this absolutely unholy noise that reminds him far too much of the rebirth of his First.
He's so focused on trying to stuff a skull into a makeshift satchel that he hasn't even noticed the fact that the dead have started their way from the sea.]
IV: Wildcard
Victor can also be found via scrywatch or any other scenario you might want. If there's something you'd like to plot out, I'm reachable at
I. The Temple
Benedict's found his way to the temple, too. To him, it had made the most sense, as temple is not unlike a church (more or less), and churches are places of help and charity. While he can't decide if he's ever been particularly religious - he goes to church the same as everyone else - he can appreciate the goodwill that comes from such places.
And he hadn't meant, really, to sneak up on the man, but Benedict seen him standing there looking at something and then had heard him speak.
"It's quite good, if you did."
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"An empty place with only the rocks and the birds and the sea beyond it. And that." He nods to the man made of wood and painted yellow. "Seems a bit odd for it to be here like this, don't you agree?"
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"The whole thing seems a bit odd to me, if I'm perfectly honest." But he does spare a glance at collection of sticks. "It's a rather strange choice of colour."
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"In medicine, yellow generally indicates some state of sickness." That's all he's got though and he doubts this is at all medical. "I wish that we hadn't arrived with nothing but what they gave us. I would have liked to have sketched this for further study. Do you think this would stay here long enough for us to collect some items and return."
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The corner of his mouth turns up, but the man's idea is a very good one. Benedict himself wouldn't mind sketching the things he's seen, and he'd much prefer to walk the city for supplies with someone else.
"I can't imagine it being moved," he replies, not that he has any proof one way or another.
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Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
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?"
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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."
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"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."
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"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?"
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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.
IV
Then a scream pierces the night and she starts running to the source.
She finds a man sitting in the sand, but he's not the source of the wailing. The skull in his hand is. That's...different. And also not the only problem at hand. Through the thick fog, she notices the vague figures shambling from the depths of the ocean.
"Oi, Hamlet, drop the skull and get a shift on. We've got trouble."
no subject
"We need to take it with us! I'm not finished with my examination!" Yet the fog swirls ever thicker and the smell of the ocean mixes with a smell Victor is very very familiar with. Cadavers. He smells the district scent of death wafting in with the fog and the tide.
He makes to move towards her. The futher from it's origin, the louder the skull gets until he can feel it all the way down to his bones. So loud it physically hurts and he's forced to drop it, almost at her feet. It disappears, silenced, into fog so thick he can't see past his own knees to the ground. "We have to find it."
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She looks down into the fog, her vision better than a human's and makes out the dark contour of the skull. She crouches down to pick it up. An action that proves to be a mistake as once she has it out from the fog, it begins to enthral her.
"On second thought..." She sinks down into the sand and stares into the abyss of the empty eye sockets. "It's so lonely," she mutters, more to the skull than to anyone else. "Being so old, living so long. Everyone dies in the end. Not me, though. I just keep going. Always the hero. Never a moment's rest. I've lived countless lifetimes, I've lost more people than I can count. It's endless. I keep going, I keep fighting, I keep finding these...people. I care about them and I lose them in the end. It breaks my hearts just thinking about the inevitability."
no subject
In any other circumstances he'd be right there with her, wanting to see them. Not just that, he'd want to get his hands on them, dig around inside of one. But now is not the time for that.
She has the skull and he's about to tell her to run with it but she's sinking in to the fog. Sinking and speaking about the loneliness of an immortal it seems. John's loneliness. Lily's horrific revenge. Dorian's boredom. This woman talks of this and Victor doesn't know what to do.
He does poorly with bedside manner. His own reaction to the skull had been that deep empty sorrow, but his curiosity had pushed past it. Tears later, research now.
It's his turn now. He's not a strong man or a fast man but he is not going to run and leave her for the army of the undead. "You won't keep fighting if you say here. We'll come back for it. In the light of day when the heat burns off this fog." Surgeon's hands cover hers. They are cold and have the slightest of tremors. "You saved me." She made him drop the skull after all. "Let me save you. Drop it and come with. You're no good to anyone dead and I haven't the tools to bring you back."
no subject
"Don't need tools to come back if I die. Sort of got a built-in fail-safe for that." She's tempted to explain further that technically she could die if someone stopped her from regenerating, but now's not really a time for lectures on Time Lord physiology.
The undead don't move fast, but they are still closing in on the two of them and The Doctor doesn't want to lose anyone, not yet, not ever.
She reaches over and grabs Victor's hand in hers. "How are you with running?" She doesn't really give him a chance to answer before she's off, dragging him along with her.
II
Victor happens to catch her eye. His mask was interesting but it's the way he appears as uncomfortable as she does that really draws her attention. She approaches with only minor hesitancy and responds to his grumble with a sighing, "Yeah, that's what they keep saying. It's kind of annoying, to be honest."
It's clear she hasn't figured out the answer to the puzzle yet.
no subject
Sharp blue eyes veer immediately down and away. It takes him a few more moments to settle himself. Remind himself that he's not in his world anymore.
"More than quite. I'm rather not a fan of these sorts of games." He's perhaps a little perturbed that he's not worked it out yet. He loves puzzles but so far the solution has illuded him. He knows he could probably ask someone without one but Victor bristles at the idea of needing help.
"At least yours isn't too heavy?"
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It was going to take them all some time to adjust to the differences here.
"I think I lucked out in comparison to a lot of people," She responds with a touch of relief and a small, awkward smile but it dims as she leans forward to get a better look at his mask, "...and maybe you, too. How long have you been stuck in that?"
She thought her own mask was uncomfortable, it obstructed her vision and smelled as dusty as it looked, but if his is as heavy as it looks, he wins the 'my mask is more uncomfortable' contest hands down.
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"I'm wondering if it's some sort of theme. I have a feeling I know what mine is supposed to represent. But a way to know if my hypothesis is correct is to ask you. What does that moth mean to you? Perhaps in knowing we can discover the secret to how to remove these things."
no subject
It's not like this was a mask she'd have chosen for herself. She touches the edges of the wings, thin and soft and worn, and suddenly she remembers something she'd heard once about moths: how they could represent death and rot. The knowledge sends a shiver up her spine and she looks away from the mirror quickly, back to Victor, "I heard someone tell me they represent death once, that sometimes finding a moth is a sign of destruction to come. They've never really meant anything to me, though. Does yours have meaning to you?"
As a waiter walks past, she grabs two flutes of champagne, offering him one. She'll drink them both if he doesn't want one but it'd feel rude to grab one for herself and not her new acquaintance.
I.
Something she recognises reaches her audio processors, head turning towards the source of the words. “Shades of bodies without souls,” she adds, aware she’s skipping ahead but the line just formed on the tip of her tongue. That, along with the effigy, causes an… uncomfortable sort of feeling in her biocomponents.
Then she looks down a moment, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I overheard you and… I couldn’t resist a little recitation.”
no subject
He turns slightly more towards her than the scene before him, the slightest smile of pleasure on his lips. He hasn't really met many in his time who would so aptly finish a quote like that. A blue stocking perhaps?
"No. You needn't apologize." His voice is hushed in this place. He doesn't wish to bring down upon them anything that might hide in the shadows. "I couldn't help myself either. This place feels rather like that, doesn't it?" His gaze leaves her to return to looking at that figure. "It's a rather macabre thing to greet us with."
no subject
Her own gaze drifts back to the stick figure, assessing it once again. "It looks like something an offering might be made to..." she muses. What sort of offering, she has no idea. It might not even be the case at all. "Or perhaps the locals wanted to try and startle a Traveler or two." The last part is said with a smile because it's much more preferable to downplay rather than dwell on the creepiness.
"Do you need supplies? I'd be happy to go with you," she offers.
no subject
Just as unsettling as that figure and what it might be for. "Unless Travelers are meant to be the offering." He only draws that hypothesis because he's seen terrible magics at work and there's always some sort of sacrifice. Blood has to be spilled all the times he's seen or encountered it. He much prefers science to it all. But science can't explain why they are in this place.
He turns away from it and gives a small nod. "I do actually need some supplies. I'm hoping to at least find the means to replace my medical bag and it's contents. And a journal and writing implements. I'm certain you might need some items as well?" He isn't going to mention clothing because Victor is trying hard to get over the fact that his version of proper fashion has obviously changed between his time and many other people's now.
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