QUIET MOUNDS - STEF HEART

[abardacttofollow]

You find yourself in a stone room that looks like some sort of medieval dungeon. There are (thankfully), no torture instruments, but there is a man strung up here. One large manacle is around his neck, chaining him stiffly to the door. His hands are free, but each foot is manacled to the matching bottom corner of the doorframe. There is a visible lock on each of the three manacles.

It's Stefen, and there's a knife in his chest. Despite that, he's alive, apparently alert, and doesn't look to be in pain, perhaps due to the lulling, sense-dulling music that seems to be coming from nowhere at all—in fact, if you were in pain before you entered, it's gone here. His wound is bleeding, but only a little, and he smiles his usual bright smile at you.

Behind him, but in front of the closed door he's bound to, you can see three double sets of strings running vertically. Where they meet the floor, they are fastened, and then each runs across the floor to the three doors on the opposite wall, then under them.

There is nothing else in this room.

((OOC: Here's how this will work! Since we're doing individual runs, rather than me putting up individual top levels for areas, just jump the post itself, and I'll run everything for you within your one thread. If you're wanting to do a run with someone else, just stay in the same thread together.))

Comments

[mindinthegittern]

[Medren just—freezes, completely speechless]

[abardacttofollow]

Hello, Medren! Sorry I can't show you better hospitality, but I'm all tied up right now.

[mindinthegittern]

Wow.

[hurrying to him, movements a little jerky]

Stef, what's... I'll get you down—

[abardacttofollow]

Sure, if you like. Though you'll need to find the keys first. Don't worry, I'm just fine.

[mindinthegittern]

There's a knife in your chest.

[abardacttofollow]

It's fine, it's supposed to be there.

[mindinthegittern]

...it doesn't look fine.

[takes. a deep. breath.]

What's going on?

[abardacttofollow]

You're inside Stefen—you're in his heart, the essence of who he is. I'm the Heart's Guard, and, as you can see, I've been put here to keep this path blocked off. I'm sorry that you're in this position, as I can't imagine it's a very comfortable one. To get out, you'll have to find your way to the Heart's Truth. That's the door behind me, and it's got a truth about me even I don't know! As you can see, to do that, you're going to need three keys.

[mindinthegittern]

Oh.

Is that all.

[abardacttofollow]

Even better, I can help a bit more! The keys are at the end of each of those paths: Composition, Performance, and the Gift.

[mindinthegittern]

Follow the strings, get the keys, get you down. I—all right. All right.

[pushes his hair back off his forehead]

Is there... anything else? Anything you need?

[abardacttofollow]

I'm all right, Medren. Deep breaths! If you need to, you can always ask me anything.

[mindinthegittern]

[deep breaths. okay. okay okay okay okay okay.]

...well. Any tips on where to go first?

[abardacttofollow]

Composition is the earliest path.

[mindinthegittern]

[points to the door on the left??]

[abardacttofollow]

Right! Composition, Performance, and the Gift, in that order.

[mindinthegittern]

See you in awhile, then.

[walking through the Composition door]

Composition 1

[abardacttofollow]

You find yourself in a back alley in what looks like a medieval city—or rather, some sort of stage set of it, decorated cloth hung up to cover the four walls to show city streets leading off, the back of some sort of house of ill repute . The smell of it is terrible, though, and a lot of the props around seem real as well—a cracked barrel with almost all of its contents leaked out into the flagstones under your feet, sewage running past in a small channel by one wall, garbage scraps of food around, most of it too rotten to eat. There is a huge pile of garbage in your path, and on the other side, you see the other door. The cord runs through the middle of the room and under that locked door.

At the base of the door are two huddled rag figures—an old lady, and a young boy with a lock of brilliant auburn hair hanging around his face. They are both shivering, and the boy looks to be injured or deformed, his leg at an odd angle and bandaged, wounds seeping, though someone familiar with the scam can probably tell it's all false paste wounds and his limbs carefully tied into those positions. His hungry eyes and sunken cheeks are real, though. One hand loosely clasps a moldy roll with a few bites taken out of it.

"Alms," the old lady calls in a weak, shaking voice. "Alms, please. If not for me, for my poor boy, alms!"

There is a cracked wooden bowl on the ground between them—sitting on what appears to be a weighted platform, attached to the door.

A sign on the door reads: "What is the weight of security?"

[mindinthegittern]

[digging in his pockets automatically to see if he has any money. probably some QM dollars?]

You're—Berte.

[abardacttofollow]

She squints at him suspiciously.

"Who are you? A fancy Bard from up the way?"

[mindinthegittern]

I guess.... that's what I am. I'm Medren.

[crouching down and putting the paper dollars in the bowl]

And you must be Stefen, too.

[abardacttofollow]

The scale under on the bowl doesn't shift. Perhaps they don't recognize it as money.

"What do you want with my boy?" Berte asks. Stefen shrinks back a little, shy, but with his legs bound up he can't really pull away.

[mindinthegittern]

I want to help. Not sure how, though. I haven't any coin, just that.

[abardacttofollow]

"If you want to help, find a way to get some? Help two beggars out..."

[mindinthegittern]

...

[hesitantly]

...you ought to let Stef sing, that should bring some in.