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

[clocked_out]

What??? Slow down I haven't even finished playing 'find the phallus' with the initial setting yet.

[abardacttofollow]

Please don't find the phallus in my heart.

[clocked_out]

[He makes a vague gesture to the knife sticking out of his chest.]

[abardacttofollow]

Oh, no, that's not a phallus. But it is supposed to be there for now.

[he draws a deep breath]

So! 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.

[clocked_out]

..........


Ah fuck it's quest shit.

[abardacttofollow]

I think it's more symbolic understanding.

[clocked_out]

Quests are always symbolic. But no sweat, I'm the knight guy for a reason. Where do I start.

[abardacttofollow]

The keys are at the end of each of those paths: Composition, Performance, and the Gift. None of them are long. They shouldn't be dangerous to you… I hope. I'm not a dangerous person, at least not any more. And I never meant to be, I promise that, so hopefully that's enough.

[clocked_out]

I don't think you're dangerous, dude.

Which door should I go through first?

[abardacttofollow]

Any, really. None are locked off. If you want my opinion, Composition is the earliest parts of me so they might help inform later elements, but if you know me well enough already, that won't be an issue.

[clocked_out]

I'll just pick one at random and assume that was the one I was supposed to pick.

[He goes for the leftmost one.]

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, like one half of a scale, attached to the door's locking mechanism.

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

[clocked_out]

[Well, this part is called COMPOSITION and Dave knows the deal with how he was taken off the streets but, uh... How to literalize that.

In the mean time he tries putting money in the bowl though because that seems like a safe second bet.]

[abardacttofollow]

Money from your pocket does not work :( There is no reaction, and the two beggars don't seem to recognize it as money.

[clocked_out]

[Oh wait but the PAPER money gives him an idea. He manages to find a pen in his sylladex and writes a few lyrics, managing to rhyme security.]


what is the weight of security for a situation that ain't get no futurity

[and then he drops THAT in the bowl.]

[abardacttofollow]

Nothing happens to the door, though the younger beggar takes it out after a moment and starts trying to read it.

[clocked_out]

[After a beat, Dave crouches down to be more on level with baby Stefen.]

Hey.

[abardacttofollow]

"Hello," he says, shyly.

[clocked_out]

[Cute. Dave smiles at him. He also gently taps the money.]

It's lyrics.

[abardacttofollow]

"To a song...? I can't read..."

[clocked_out]

Yeah not yet.

[Hm.

He is pretty damn sure the answer here is fantasy cash money. But how to get some...?

...

Ok well rapping is worth a shot.

Dave gently paps young Stefen on the head and stands up, clearing his throat.

Time to rap for some alms??]

[abardacttofollow]

Stefen listens intently, then joins in on the last verse.

People? Images ? Start coming through the walls, tossing copper coins into the bowl. The door goes click.

[clocked_out]

[Dave flashes Stefen a thumbs up and heads toward the open door.]

Composition 2

[abardacttofollow]

The next room is a very small tenement room. There's a heap of rags making up a bed. In it is the same old woman from the previous room, snoring loudly and drunkenly. There's no mistaking her condition—an empty bottle is still clutched in her hand.

The boy is huddled in the opposite corner from the bed. He is stretching out legs that are clearly sore, a shiner of a bruise on his cheek and his fingers are shaking, though whether it's hunger or pain, it's hard to tell. There are resentful tears unshed in his eyes as he silently goes about his business. He too is on a pile of rags, and he stares at you suspiciously, shoving them a little more behind himself like he thinks they're about to be taken away. A crutch leans against the wall near him. A rat scurries through the room as you take the image in.

As before, the cord runs through the room and under a locked door with some sort of weighted platform next to it. This time, there's no bowl, but it's clear something should still go there.

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