terriblepurpose: (045)
Paul Atreides ([personal profile] terriblepurpose) wrote in [community profile] deercountry2022-11-01 11:18 pm

l’s escape room birthday | every second dripping off my fingertips

Who: ‘Lazarus Sauveterre’ (L Lawliet) and select friends
What: L’s Depraved Escape Room Hellromp
When: October 31st
Where: A reclaimed house in Gaze

Content warnings: Underage drinking, psychological horror, eventual cosmic horror, suggestive MSPaint drawings (displayed in tags)



At an abandoned house towards the edge of Gaze, although not that one, someone has been extraordinarily busy on very short notice. Directions to the party may only be obtained from the guest of honour himself or the chief planner, hand drawn maps distributed on scrolls tied with black ribbon. These maps lead to a dilapidated seeming two story home constructed in a typical Trench style, festooned with towerlets and dark, leering windows.

Inside the house, however, the first two rooms of the house will be what most people might expect of a party: in contradiction of the exterior, the sitting room and the dining room have been thoroughly cleaned and redecorated in an elegant black and grey theme.

In the sitting room, a fire crackles invitingly at one end, surrounded by comfortable couches and chairs, while the other half of the room is open for mingling or dancing near the old-fashioned looking (but thoroughly modern in its interior) phonograph, into which requests from the musical library of DeerNet may be fed.

The dining room is dominated by a long table of desserts of all kinds, from rainbow bowls of hard candy to sculpted chocolates to stacks of little cakes and pastries on serving towers. Those in search of savoury fare will come up nearly empty-handed, save for a cheese plate or two interspersed throughout. On the side tables, bottles of liquors and liqueurs alternate with tea and coffee services, along with a selection of juices, sparkling waters, and other mixers.

The adjoining restroom even has little charcoal soaps carved into whimsical, seasonally appropriate shapes, to complete the welcoming and convivial atmosphere, which is a good thing, because there’s one catch that the invitations failed to mention:

After the guests have all arrived, none of them are leaving through the door they entered through, because it (like the back door, and the windows) has been altered to only open from the outside.

Welcome to Lazarus Sauveterre’s birthday puzzle box. Enjoy your exploration of the rest of the house - or, if so inclined, stick to the front rooms. After all, someone is sure to figure it out before morning.

(Costumes are optional, but encouraged.)

The Ceremony Room

The first room down the hall from the sitting and dining rooms is full of the obvious remnants of an invocation: half-melted black candles, a runic circle carved meticulously into the bare hardwood floor, a stone altar topped with bowls of salt, water, and iridescent oil.

It is also obvious from the char marks and smoke stains on the peeling wallpaper that something may not have gone as planned. Keen eyes will notice that among other piles of flaked off paper are scraps of notes written in runes that match those on the floor.

This room will be most easily solved by party goers familiar with the occult and ritual.

The Library

Further down the hall lies a modest library. The bookshelves here are in disarray, with no immediately obvious rhyme or reason to their organization. Even the books themselves are at all angles with each other, crammed sideways, upside down, and backwards between mismatched bookends and musty, half-dead potted plants. Three tables of differing make are centered in a triangle at the library’s heart, covered in loose papers filled with a script that does not lend itself to easy deciphering.

Fresh paper and pencils are stacked on the small, cleared desk by the door, evidently for guest’s use.

The secrets of this room are best discerned by those with an interest in linguistics and cryptography.

The Study

Just off of the library, this smaller room is dominated by a massive wooden desk, heavy cabinets, and a squatting iron-bound chest. All of them are locked, and the keyhooks beneath an oil painting of the sea and above the back of the desk are conspicuously empty. If the investigators wish to rifle through the home owner’s hidden items and correspondence, they’ll need to be deft of hand and sharp of eye - and perhaps, if all else fails, thoughtful about construction.

What is hidden here will be quickest found by sneak thieves and the mechanically inclined.

The Laboratory

On the second floor, to the left of the stairs, lies a room neater than most left in the house. Racks of glassware compete with disassembled clockwork mechanisms for space on the counters lining the walls, and those familiar with the scientific (or pseudo-scientific) process will notice swiftly that it seems a series of experiments were being documented on the blackboard that dominates one end of the room. Other notes are scattered throughout the room in disorder, inviting the guests to piece together this mystery in both time and space.

Those with experience in rigorous study and the natural sciences will find this room a surmountable challenge.

The Observatory

The largest room on the top floor boasts a telescope mounted in a rotating dome that may be turned by the means of a hand crank on the wall, which spins a central platform via some cunning hidden mechanism in the floor. Those who put their eyes to the telescope will be treated to a dazzling view of Trench’s night sky, dotted with stars.

On the walls of this room hang a series of clocks of various makes and models, not one of which is set to the right time, and all of which are paired to a star chart that depicts no night sky that may be seen through the telescope.

Those who star gaze or devote themselves to numbers will have the best luck here.

The Guest Bedroom

What was once a modest guest bedroom adjacent to the observatory has been rifled through by someone on a less delicate mission than the puzzle solvers. The armoire hangs open with the spare sheets and towels inside ripped out and discarded, while the sunken mattress has been slashed with a blade and divested of fistfuls of tufted fiber in search of something. The knife in question may be found at the dressing table tucked into a corner, sticking out upright above the drawer someone pried apart with it.

Next to it: a guest book, of the old-fashioned kind, intended for each visitor to the room to add a greeting and a few memories of their stay. Between its leather cover, it seems the guests of this house prior to this party had a great deal to jot down, and some of them even seemed to have used it to discuss a certain upcoming matter between themselves…

The secrets of this room will reveal themselves most readily to those with profiling and associative skills.

(The master bedroom across the hall is only a comfortable room, cleaner than the rest of the house, with a soft bed and a door that locks from the inside.)

The Hidden Chamber

Beneath the house, the last room may be found once all the other rooms are solved, concealed at the bottom of a narrow staircase. It is a small, spare room, all of it one apparently seamless stone enclosure, and in its center rests a plain white cloth, an empty silver bowl, a hand mirror in a silver frame, and a fresh white candle set into a candle holder made of a black crystal geode.

No special skill is needed to solve this room. Only a clever mind is required to apprehend the room’s purpose and locate the key.

[The mystery spreadsheet for clues and solutions is here. The purpose of these prompts is not to create a mystery for you, the players, but an in character framework for setting up puzzle solving for the characters.]
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (03)

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-11-04 04:29 am (UTC)(link)
[She glances at the picture again, squinting at it for anything else it might possibly be. What else does it remind her of- ?]

...is that, or it is not, a set of breasts?

[Twenty six. She supposes that is the appropriate stage of life to be slapping up sloppy nudes at your birthday party.]
hearthebell: (Keep the ends out for the tie that binds)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2022-11-04 04:31 am (UTC)(link)
It is a bicycle, Mercymorn.
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (06)

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-11-04 04:43 am (UTC)(link)
[The rejoinder on her lips (namely: what sort of bicycle has nipples?) evaporates in the wake of her name, which flares her pupils and has her reaching out reflexively into the space around them, probing for anyone close enough to overhear along every axis of her Lyctoral senses - but of course there is no one. Only the strange, solitary intimacy of sacred syllables, strung out from a new mouth.]

It looks more like a pair of eyeglasses than a bicycle. Where are you supposed to sit on it? Where are the pedals?

[She takes a slug of her wine, folding her free arm across her own 'bicycle' as she glances over her shoulder.]

I suppose I shall be satisfied this isn't about to descend into - some kind of orgy. It's been dreadful enough managing him lately as it is.
hearthebell: (An ape with angel glands)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2022-11-04 04:47 am (UTC)(link)
I did draw the seat and the handlebars, but the frame wasn't large enough to accommodate them. They had to be cut off. As for the pedals, they are there, as well as the hub shell, the bearings, and the axle. But as I said, I'm not a good artist.

[He stares for a moment, maybe a little too long.]

I don't understand why you think I'd draw a set of breasts. It's only recently that I realized I even liked them.
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (03)

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-11-04 05:03 am (UTC)(link)
Is that what the n- the pink parts are meant to be?

[She doesn't bother to flick some consoling compliment about effort at his feet. He isn't a good artist. There's no purpose in pretending otherwise, but at least he acknowledges the shortcoming.]

No. Don't answer that. I don't care. [She appraises him instead of the attempted art, then shrugs, supple and one-shouldered.] I assumed it was in the hat.

[If Patience was in her uncomfortable shoes, she's sure he'd have some arch, purring inquiry about how recently Lazarus realized he liked them. She touches the rim of her wine glass to her mouth, leaving another dark red smudge of lipstick, like drying blood.]

Why? To get a reaction. To liven up the room. To look at a pair of tits. As if I ought to know why people draw anything.
hearthebell: will credit if found (I never meant for you to fix yourself)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2022-11-04 05:13 am (UTC)(link)
The more solid pink parts? They're the hub: shell, bearing, and axle. I could only approximate the shape, given the medium, of course.

[He answers, because he cares, as if he could do better with a king's spread of renaissance oils and brushes.

His glance lingers on the lipstick stain. He's a shabby thing, even here, especially here. He's dressed as himself in a borrowed sweater.]


People have drawn things since time immemorial. It's my birthday. I want to be remembered and preserved just as much as any mammoth hunter, even if it's a poorly-rendered bicycle. If anything, doesn't that make it less forgettable, the fact that it's so absurd it could be mistaken for a set of breasts?
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (03)

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-11-04 05:26 am (UTC)(link)
[Mercy squints at the more solid pink parts, weighing them in comparison to the bicycles she's seen before. She supposes she can, if she is charitable, see what he means.]

I hardly think you need to stoop to transportation-based pornography to be commemorated on your birthday.

[She waves her glass at the room around them, still gradually filling up with more people, an uncomfortable number (more than zero) that she recognizes.

It's odd, all the same. He seems more curled up on himself than he was even in the alleyway, where he surely must have assumed his life was about to find its messy end before he had the chance to be older than he'd ever been before. She would have expected him to be more buoyed up, here in the seat of his influence.

So she hands him her glass as she brushes past him to rummage through the hat herself, plucking out a slip of paper for herself. Her nose wrinkles as she reads it, before she sighs and crumples it up in her palm.]


Go on and pin it up on the wall, then. I need a fresh sheet.
hearthebell: manga (I'm late for my own premier)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2022-11-04 05:31 am (UTC)(link)
Don't you?

[He sounds half-mystified and half very touched that she's said so. He also accepts her glass when she pushes it towards him, hesitating before sampling the wine over the stain of her lipstick.]

Certainly, of course; it's only fair, isn't it?

[He hops up to pin the bit of paper, trying to pluck and wedge the crumpled-up bit of paper from Mercy's hand.]
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (03)

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-11-04 05:59 am (UTC)(link)
[Mercy relinquishes the bit of paper, assuming that Lazarus won't take advantage of it to cheat - or perhaps he will, and that would be interesting in its own way, much as his sipping at the wine glass is. She wonders if her transmissible condition may be purged by the weak alcohol content of wine and exposure to air. She supposes he'll find out.

In the meanwhile, she selects her colours and removes the apparent bicycle carefully from the easel, laying it flat on the low table provided for that purpose before she begins to draw.]


Do I think you have more to offer than sketches of anatomically vague vehicles?

[She eyes him sidelong, which may not do much for the quality of her art, but never mind that.]

Yes - for example, comic doggerel, or so I've heard.

[The invitation had gone over well, in only the way that things that irritate God very badly induce his worst sort of hard good cheer.]
hearthebell: will credit if found (But the hills don't shine right)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2022-11-05 04:09 am (UTC)(link)
[He glances curiously at the picture she's drawing. He actually didn't cheat by looking at the card. When she looks sidelong at him, though, he can't not meet her eyes.

His own glint with thorny amusement.]


I sent a dove with an olive branch, according to my better nature. He's been so shunned and rebuffed lately. Isn't it the gentlemanly thing to do?
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (03)

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-11-05 05:24 am (UTC)(link)
[The thorns catch her. It may be a residue of nostalgia, her least treasured emotion, but the invitation to amusement in Lazarus' grey glance shades seafoam green to Mercymorn.]

Isn't it.

[There is barely a smile on her lips, an upward sliced curve to one corner, but her eyes glint back like mirrors.]

You did get him out of the house.

[Her hair is as unbound as it was this morning, but sleekly straightened and styled since. It cascades like silt-tinged water when she tips her head.]

Should I thank you for it, or not?
hearthebell: will credit if found (Seven times I pierce my heart)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2022-11-05 06:01 am (UTC)(link)
[After this morning on the beach, L himself went home, bathed, and then put on the exact same sweater she'd left with him. It's either a very blithe and inattentive decision, or an extremely pointed and intentional one.

Mercy, conversely, seems to have made an effort with her appearance, which raises a question of just who it was for. L turns it over in his mind the way his fingers had turned the memory orb from Cloverfield.]


Oh, no. I never expected any thanks. I'd settle for hearing that it's impressive, though.
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (06)

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-11-06 01:26 am (UTC)(link)
[Transmuting her reaction to Lazarus' sartorial choices from a burst of hysterical, dizzying amusement to a show of irritable affront was a feat that she thinks no one but Lazarus was equipped to appreciate. She cannot help but wonder if it still smells like cured peaches and salt.]

Of course it's impressive.

[She's lingering on her artwork, an orangeish column sprouted out of nothing, and there's a faint edge of impatience to the compliment - surely, he's aware.]

Audacity tends to be.

[Beyond the effort in her appearance (which she wouldn't call much of one, compared to the heady old days of Fleet balls and intra-House cotillions) there is the effort of her making an appearance at all. Lazarus successfully fetched John from the house, which is a feat; fetching Mercy with him was an impossibility, but here she is, enduring something as prosaic as a party out of her still kindled interest.]
hearthebell: will credit if found (I told you to be kind)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2022-11-06 04:23 am (UTC)(link)
[Some of the original scent clings to the sweater, and was in fact noticed by its wearer. He'd taken care to dry completely for some time before putting it on again, just so it might retain a little more of the odd, alien scent.

A smile quirks at the corner of his mouth, more than a suggestion, slightly twisted.]


I'm glad you're here, anyway. The jury's still out on John... and I can't wait to guess what you've drawn.
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (06)

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-11-11 12:54 am (UTC)(link)
[He is glad to see her, this slender, coiled spring of a human being. He wears the trophy of their beach encounter with casual temerity, and despite her better interests, sense, and reason -

Well. He certainly is no Wake. Wake was never happy to see anyone, in Mercymorn's experience.]


...I can't say I'm sorry I came.

[It's the sort of remark that might be off-hand from most, and is meant to be from her now, but her rotten heart always pulses too close to the skin. Something tender and rarely touched in her has been grazed, softly, and it has thrown her off-balance. Her archness echoes in a deep hollow, and thereby loses its edge.

She continues her artistic rendition in the quiet aftermath, the squeak of marker on paper seeming far too loud to her ears.]