abardacttofollow | QUIET MOUNDS

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QUIET MOUNDS - STEF HEART

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.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you're difficult to miss."

:What are you saying?:

[laughing; doesn't seem to expect an answer to the joke]

:And what are you playing, in fact? I heard something lovely as I came into the room.:

He blushes a little. "I'm just playing around. I was thinking of a lyrical puzzle thing, some kind of call and response."

:Care to try a few lines on me? Or is it too new, still?:

"Um! Sure, I guess." He strums out the same melody he was giving before and sings a few lines at you.

[are the lyrics anything in particular to note?]

Not terribly! It also definitely sounds like a work in progress.

:It has promise!

So, where is your roommate?:

"Oh, he's out. On a date, I think?"

:I see... I'm sorry to miss you both, but delighted that you were home, my dear.:

[steps further into the room, examining the music on the two desks]

"I'm delighted to have you visit, m'lady! If there's anything I can do to help you here, let me know."

One desk has a lot of love music on it, with notes on the themes (lyrically and musically) as they reoccur. There's also loose strings and tuning equipment and some history books.

The other desk has similar types of homework and studies, but is not love songs specifically. Looks like Medren is looking more into what makes call and response most effective.

:Thank you, my dear. You have some interesting theories. Are you particularly interested in call and response?:

"I am right now, at any rate," Medren says promptly.

:How interesting. What appeals most to you about it...?:

"Bring other people into it. The energy they bring, I guess?"

:That is true. And different people have such different energies to bring.:

"Right. A bored crowd calling back and an engaged one is a very different situation! Or worse, silence..."

:The worst commentary on any Bard.:

[laughing a little again, but it's gentle, a little at herself as well]

:I suppose it's lifelike, if you think of life as a performance. You never know what reaction your audience will give.:

"Isn't life a performance?" Medren asks back, philosophically.

:A favorite question of the Players among us, certainly.:

[she gestures at the weighted platform and sign with her nose]

:Speaking of performance...:

"Right! Do you need any help figuring it out? Or have you got it?"

:I thought you might stand on the platform, but if I'm guessing wrong, I wouldn't mind more conversation. It's been delightful speaking with you.:

"And yourself, m'lady! I'd love to hear more about your thoughts on music sometime, though I suppose you can do that outside of here just as well..."

[he gets on the scale. Click!]

:I would love to, in your own flesh and seeming -- even if getting to see my favorite Chosen's nephew at that age was a wonderful surprise. Consider it a promise!:

[heading through the door; this is a much nicer route, overall]

You enter a room that is… remarkably small, actually. There's just barely room for you to stand facing seven intimidating figures once the door is closed.

They're all tall, varying between middle age and elderly, and all dressed in a brilliant scarlet. The cord runs through the room and then up, being held by the man in the center of the seven. It's the bardic council, led by Dellar. He's got a face like a lumpy potato, with a mouth that looks like he could eat an entire loaf of bread in one bite, and bright, black eyes. He is holding a key in his other hand.

"Well," he says, grinning absurdly, "I don't suppose you can tell me what the weight of duty is?"

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