Start of a transcript of The Eleusinian Miseries An Interactive Farce by Mike Russo Release 1 / Serial number 200926 / Inform 7 build 6M62 (I6/v6.33 lib 6/12N) Identification number: //B9B8E811-548B-4868-858B-0C3FA51E0698// Interpreter version 2.1.7 / VM 3.1.2 / Library serial number 080126 Standard Rules version 3/120430 by Graham Nelson >about This initial version of the Eleusinian Miseries was released in October of 2020 as part of the 26th Interactive Fiction Competition. Interaction with other people is exclusively handled using ASK (someone) ABOUT (something) -- other phrasings may also work, but those are optional. There are no sounds or images. The Eleusinian Miseries is a merciful work, meaning it's impossible to die or get permanently stuck (if that seems to have happened, please provide a bug report by emailing me at russo2116@gmail.com!) There are three slightly different endings, so saving early in the time-sensitive finale sequence (you'll know it when you get there) may be advisable if you'd like to experiment with them. Or, since they're only slightly different, you may not! The game includes comedically-described consumption of alcohol and a hallucinogen, discreetly-described but anatomically-correct statuary, and blasphemy against the Greek gods in both historically-accurate and entirely invented varieties. You can see full credits by typing, predictably, CREDITS, and hints are available via the HELP command. >credits The Eleusinian Miseries is a game by Mike Russo. If you have feedback, questions, or criticism, please email me at russo2116@gmail.com. The game was written in Inform 7 by Graham Nelson, and uses Menus, Punctuation Removal, and Basic Screen Effects by Emily Short. This is the first game I've written, and I benefited immensely from the support of the kind souls at the IF Community Forum, especially Gavin Lambert, Matt Weiner, and Andrew Plotkin, who extricated me from a few messes of my own making. I was very fortunate in my beta testers, who were thoughtful and rigorous in equal measure: Peter M.J. Gross, Alex Harby, Christopher Merriner, Caleb Wilson, and Brian Rushton. If at any point you are happy to find that a particular synonym is supported, or a gentle cue leads you to a puzzle's solution, you probably have them to thank; when you find yourself frustrated at the lack of same, you definitely have me to blame. I obviously owe a debt to P.G. Wodehouse, in much the same way that Lord Elgin owed a debt to the builders of the Acropolis -- the voice, tone, and several of the story's predicaments were heavily inspired by his novels and short stories. My take on Alky, the titular Mysteries, and the major incident in the last portion of the game (you'll know it when you get there) were also inspired by Larry Gonick's Cartoon History of the Universe, which helped me bluff my way through more high school history classes than I care to count. My wife made all of this possible, by getting me into Wodehouse but also providing ideas and inspiration, as well as initial testing and feedback that helped keep me on the right track. Plus she did the cover. So this one's for and/or on her. >l Cellar It's perhaps a judgment on the cellar that the only things you care to notice about it are the exits. One might think the stairs to be the likeliest prospect, but Alky's fetching form is currently interposing itself. More immediately relevant are the lighted openings to the west and south, and coming in a distant fourth in the niceness sweepstakes is the dim, cave-y area to the east. >x me It's a mark of ill-breeding to be a judge in one's own cause, and you are if nothing else well-bred -- but if, hypothetically, one were to have one's hypothetical arm twisted, then one might venture to relate that some -- no, many! -- of one's contemporaries are of the opinion that one is a dashing young thing of appealing and prepossessing aspect, and the moustache one has recently grown, after much consideration, adds just the right note of danger and flair (these contemporaries to whose opinion one is referring the matter, it is to be understood, hold themselves to high standards of probity and are quite fetching themselves, to boot, but no, one couldn't possibly relate their names right now, and shame on you for asking). Currently, you're wearing a well-tailored chiton. You've got a tickle of an itch right at your temple. >i You are carrying: a well-tailored chiton (being worn) the list of ceremonial desiderata an itch >scratch itch As your fingers brush the side of your head, they come across a hard, cylindrical object. >take object Hang on, this is that knife you lost! You take it down from your ear, nicking your fingers only twice or thrice in the process. >read list -The krater of the east (a krater is a sort of large vase) -An amphora of clear water (an amphora is a different sort of large vase) -A knife. Any knife will do, and there are probably some up here now that I think of it, but you might as well pick one up for us while you're down there, eh? -An ear of barley, for the kykeon (you'll like the kykeon!) -A sprig of pennyroyal, adds a delightful minty flavor to the kykeon (look for the lavender flowers!) Alky calls a greeting up the stairs at one of the fellows passing by above. >w Granary You smell this room before you enter it -- it gives off the kind of rank odor you rarely encounter outside the odd visit to a Great-Aunt who's rather let the housekeeping go to seed. The culprit is easy to detect: heaps of mostly-rotten grain clog the room everywhere you turn. There's a vase in the corner -- no, hang on, that's an amphora, though admittedly a rather vase-like example of the type. The main cellar, offering a relative respite for your nose, lies east. >take amphora This works less well than you'd hoped, inasmuch as the amphora is anchored to the wall by the rope. >x rope You admire this piece of rope, still sturdy despite being frayed to an inch of its life (assuming ropes have life, which now that you think of it, they don't). It's currently tying the amphora to a pair of iron rings embedded in the wall, with a series of knots so small and devilish that they must have been tied by the world's cleverest mosquito. >cut rope You slash the frayed rope with the knife. >take amphora Taken. >take rope Taken. >l Granary Heaps of mostly-rotten grain clog the room everywhere you turn. The main cellar, offering a relative respite for your nose, lies east. >x grain There is, unsurprisingly, a lot of grain in this granary; what's rather more outside-of-the-box is that nobody apparently could be troubled to put it in anything, and it's rather just heaped about the place. Inasmuch as there's a non-negligible amount of humidity, if not outright dankness, it's all completely rotten. >x amphora This is definitely an amphora, and not a vase. Or is that backwards? It's got a very narrow neck and stands about two feet tall. There are a few ears of barley at the very bottom of the amphora, looking at least marginally fresher than the rotten grain in the granary. >empty amphora It's small but heavy, and since you need the amphora sufficiently intact to hold water, trying to flip it would run an unconscionable risk of breaking it (you're not sure you'd come through unscathed, either). >take barley You strain -- gosh, do you strain! -- but try as you might to cram your hand into the amphora, the neck is just too narrow. >e Cellar It's perhaps a judgment on the cellar that the only things you care to notice about it are the exits. One might think the stairs to be the likeliest prospect, but Alky's fetching form is currently interposing itself. More immediately relevant are the lighted openings to the west and south, and coming in a distant fourth in the niceness sweepstakes is the dim, cave-y area to the east. >s Store Room Judging by the supplies and sundries stored here, the Priests of Eleusis put on quite the shin-dig: the floor practically groans under the weight of nummies both comestible and potable, stored in a variety of vessels. You see vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, skyphoi of skyr... And everywhere you look, there's another krater, each wider-mouthed and wider-handled than the previous, all strewn in a careless pile against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. >take all You might be better understood if you took things more step-by-step. >take krater Alky would certainly take a krater at random, rather than identifying the specific one being requested, and bluff his way through things. But you are not he, for good or ill (mostly for good, you think? This is getting awfully metaphysical). >search kraters After a few minutes of careful study, and a few moments of ignominy when you lose your footing and wind up desperately scrabbling in a cavalcade of kraters, you think you've found the one you're after, buried near the bottom of the pile: red-figure depictions of Eos, flora and fauna from Asia Minor, &c. The legend reading "Krater of the East" provides a supernumerary clue. >take krater of the east You give the krater you're after a tug, but it's lodged under quite a few other kraters, which does not exactly make for stable footing, and your efforts to dislodge it lead instead to dislodging yourself, in an arse-over-teakettle sort of way. You dust yourself off, with no-one having seen your bloomer on the plus side, but also no krater to show for it on the minus side. >move kraters Given the size of the pile, moving it could take all evening, and you have other plans. >take krater of the east You give the krater you're after a tug, but it's lodged under quite a few other kraters, which does not exactly make for stable footing, and your efforts to dislodge it lead instead to dislodging yourself, in an arse-over-teakettle sort of way. You dust yourself off, with no-one having seen your bloomer on the plus side, but also no krater to show for it on the minus side. >search vases The veal is lightly seared to mouth-watering perfection. >take veal The morsels are tempting, but you don't want to ruin your appetite before the party proper! >search lekythoi To be honest, leeks are not your veg of choice, but if needs must eat a leek, these would do the job. >take leek They're tempting, but you don't want to ruin your appetite before the party proper! >search bowls The beer looks dark and smells darker. >drink beer There'll be plenty of time to be-sozzle yourself at the party -- and if you sozzle yourself witless now, odds are you won't ever make it there. >search pithoi You briefly contemplate the amount of labor required to de-pit each and every olive in this large vessel -- even just thinking of it makes you tired. >take olive They're tempting, but you don't want to ruin your appetite before the party proper! >search kylixes Upon closer inspection, this might just be plain old sausage, but you're rather committed to the alliteration wheeze at this point. >search skyphoi There's an absolutely whizzing hangover cure your man makes for you out of thick yogurt like this. You just add -- was it nutmeg? And some herb or other. Honestly, this is why having a man is so dashed convenient, not just for the doing of things but for the remembering of them. >take skyre You can't see any such thing. >take skyr It's tempting, but you don't want to ruin your appetite before the party proper! >s There are many fine directions you could traipse from here, but sadly that isn't among them. >l Store Room The inventory of foodstuffs on offer here includes vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, and skyphoi of skyr -- there's also a pile of kraters spilled against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. You can see the Krater of the East here. >push krater You can't get your footing right to do anything like that to the krater. >pull it You can't get your footing right to do anything like that to the krater. >take lamp They're chained to the ceiling, so you can't work out how to do that, or at least how to do that without scattering scalding-hot oil every which way. >climb What do you want to climb? >kraters You scrabble up the pile of kraters, which teeter this way and that under your unexpected weight. Just as they're ready to topple, you leap onto the conveniently-placed ledge. Darkness You're surrounded by the black and inky every which way you look, which is generally not how you choose to pass your evenings. >look down It's rather too dark to do much besides retreat back to where you can see yourself think. >d Store Room The inventory of foodstuffs on offer here includes vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, and skyphoi of skyr -- there's also a pile of kraters spilled against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. You can see the Krater of the East here. >i You are carrying: a frayed rope the amphora some barley a knife a well-tailored chiton (being worn) the list of ceremonial desiderata >tie rope to krater After a lot of looping a bit of pulling, you think you've knotted the frayed rope to the krater of the east. >pull rope You step well clear of the pile of kraters and give the rope a good heave. It takes a bit more straining than you'll relate when you tell Alky the story later, but eventually you pull the Krater of the East clear of the pile, and you tuck it under your arm with a sense of accomplishment. >take all You might be better understood if you took things more step-by-step. >take rope You already have that. >take krater You've already got the krater, so while you can faff about with it or the rope as much as you like, it won't accomplish very much. >x krater Red-figure depictions of Eos, flora and fauna from Asia Minor, &c. The legend reading "Krater of the East" provides a supernumerary clue. A rather worn rope is tied in a loop around the krater's handles. >search it Red-figure depictions of Eos, flora and fauna from Asia Minor, &c. The legend reading "Krater of the East" provides a supernumerary clue. A rather worn rope is tied in a loop around the krater's handles. >untie rope You might have done rather too good of a job with that sheepshead -- it's not coming out. >x lamps Filled with olive oil and set alight, which is what one of your unkinder Great-Aunts suggested was waiting for you in Tartarus if you didn't mend your ways. The ones near the entrance hang close from the low ceiling, but towards the far end they're suspended from a much higher point. >x ceiling There's rather an oppressively large amount of dirt looming not very high above you, here, which is unrewarding to contemplate. Though, now that you peer more closely, it looks like the ceiling's a bit higher above the pile of kraters, with perhaps some kind of ledge up there. >climb kraters You scrabble up the pile of kraters, which teeter this way and that under your unexpected weight. Just as they're ready to topple, you leap onto the conveniently-placed ledge. Darkness You're surrounded by the black and inky every which way you look, which is generally not how you choose to pass your evenings. >take lamp You can't see any such thing. >d Store Room The inventory of foodstuffs on offer here includes vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, and skyphoi of skyr -- there's also a pile of kraters spilled against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. >take lamp They're chained to the ceiling, so you can't work out how to do that, or at least how to do that without scattering scalding-hot oil every which way. >x chain Filled with olive oil and set alight, which is what one of your unkinder Great-Aunts suggested was waiting for you in Tartarus if you didn't mend your ways. The ones near the entrance hang close from the low ceiling, but towards the far end they're suspended from a much higher point. >n Cellar It's perhaps a judgment on the cellar that the only things you care to notice about it are the exits. One might think the stairs to be the likeliest prospect, but Alky's fetching form is currently interposing itself. More immediately relevant are the lighted openings to the west and south, and coming in a distant fourth in the niceness sweepstakes is the dim, cave-y area to the east. Alky canvasses your opinion on a naval versus an infantry strategy for peeling off the Peloponnesian League's allies, which reminds you that you really need to catch up on the news. >e Cave This unfinished bit of the cellars is more of a cave than a cellar, and it's sufficiently dark that you can't guarantee you'll sleep nightmare-free tonight. Alky, and the eventual party, lie westward, and -- less attractively -- more darkness stretches eastward. >e Darkness You're surrounded by the black and inky every which way you look, which is generally not how you choose to pass your evenings. >w Cave This unfinished bit of the cellars is more of a cave than a cellar, and it's sufficiently dark that you can't guarantee you'll sleep nightmare-free tonight. Alky, and the eventual party, lie westward, and -- less attractively -- more darkness stretches eastward. >w Cellar It's perhaps a judgment on the cellar that the only things you care to notice about it are the exits. One might think the stairs to be the likeliest prospect, but Alky's fetching form is currently interposing itself. More immediately relevant are the lighted openings to the west and south, and coming in a distant fourth in the niceness sweepstakes is the dim, cave-y area to the east. >n There are many fine directions you could traipse from here, but sadly that isn't among them. >u As you start up the stairs, Alky grabs the list from you and gives you the once-over; you flush, but sadly he's not seeing if you look fetching so much as he's seeing whether you've done all the fetching. "I don't see the pennyroyal on you," Alky sniffs. "Well, you've got an amphora," Alky says. "Too bad it's the water that's the important bit." You try to convince Alky that he should let you up because you've got the barley, it's just inaccessible, but apparently technicalities will not carry the day. "Good show," Alky crows as he takes in the krater. "Oh, there's that knife!" Alky smiles at you, but gives you a wide berth, as though he's worried that you'll wind up accidentally pricking him, like you did that one time last week, or the three times the week before that. "Sorry, old chap, can't let you up," Alky says, striking the proper, firm tone. "Bit more work to be done yet!" He hands you back the list. Alky pulls a flask out of his chiton, downs a swallow, and visibly decides to save the rest for himself rather than offer you any (you suppose you need to be fully initiated into the Mysteries to get the good stuff). >x alky Now here's a chap who really fills out a chiton. Those flashing eyes, those silken curls, that perennial sneer have charmed many a gal and many more a fellow. He's strumming idly on his third-best lyre. He's also got a torch tucked under his arm, which conveys a dashing devil-may-care-insouciance but is also a fire hazard. >ask alky about flask "Oh all right, have a sip," Alky says and hands over the flask. After you take what, in fairness, is perhaps more swig than sip, he snatches it back and tucks it away again. >ask alky about alky "Nothing's duller than talking about oneself," Alky sniffs. "But tell me, how are you?" >ask alky about me "You're doing an amazing job," Alky simpers, not even trying to be convincing. "But hurry up so we can both enjoy the party. Alky canvasses your opinion on a naval versus an infantry strategy for peeling off the Peloponnesian League's allies, which reminds you that you really need to catch up on the news. >ask alky about light You get a blank look of the sort with which you're well acquainted. >ask alky about water "There's a spring of pure, clean water through the caves," Alky says. "I never touch the stuff, mind." >w Granary Heaps of mostly-rotten grain clog the room everywhere you turn. The main cellar, offering a relative respite for your nose, lies east. >x up You can't see very far in that direction -- your Great-Aunt always said you had a touch of myopia, which you've chosen to interpret literally. You might have to simply up sticks and take a closer look. >u There are many fine directions you could traipse from here, but sadly that isn't among them. >e Cellar It's perhaps a judgment on the cellar that the only things you care to notice about it are the exits. One might think the stairs to be the likeliest prospect, but Alky's fetching form is currently interposing itself. More immediately relevant are the lighted openings to the west and south, and coming in a distant fourth in the niceness sweepstakes is the dim, cave-y area to the east. Alky tells you something clever he heard off of that Socrates fellow, but it's a bit hard to follow and leaves you knowing less than when you started. >s Store Room The inventory of foodstuffs on offer here includes vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, and skyphoi of skyr -- there's also a pile of kraters spilled against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. >x roof There's rather an oppressively large amount of dirt looming not very high above you, here, which is unrewarding to contemplate. Though, now that you peer more closely, it looks like the ceiling's a bit higher above the pile of kraters, with perhaps some kind of ledge up there. >x dirt There's rather an oppressively large amount of dirt looming not very high above you, here, which is unrewarding to contemplate. Though, now that you peer more closely, it looks like the ceiling's a bit higher above the pile of kraters, with perhaps some kind of ledge up there. >move kraters Given the size of the pile, moving it could take all evening, and you have other plans. >jump You give a little hop. >sing You belt out this cracking ditty you heard at last month's symposium -- "hop lightly, hoplite!" >x walls The walls, like the floor, are a clay-ey, mucky sort of number whose contemplation makes you hitch up your chiton, but you think you can see a recessed ledge up near the top of the chamber, just above the pile of kraters. >x ledge A rock ledge runs around the far wall of the store room, perhaps half a dozen feet above the wild mass of kraters. >u You scrabble up the pile of kraters, which teeter this way and that under your unexpected weight. Just as they're ready to topple, you leap onto the conveniently-placed ledge. Darkness You're surrounded by the black and inky every which way you look, which is generally not how you choose to pass your evenings. >search ledge You can't see any such thing. >jump You give a little hop. >i You are carrying: the Krater of the East a frayed rope (tied to the krater of the east) the amphora some barley a knife a well-tailored chiton (being worn) the list of ceremonial desiderata >x chiton It's rather too dark to do much besides retreat back to where you can see yourself think. >d Store Room The inventory of foodstuffs on offer here includes vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, and skyphoi of skyr -- there's also a pile of kraters spilled against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. >x chiton Your manservant detests this chiton, sniffing superciliously about the canary-yellow color being déclassé, but he can soak his head -- as far as you're concerned, it is just the thing! >search it Your manservant detests this chiton, sniffing superciliously about the canary-yellow color being déclassé, but he can soak his head -- as far as you're concerned, it is just the thing! >remove it The evening hasn't gotten nearly eventful enough for that! >x knife A steel knife, sharper than your wits, hopefully. Or, wait, perhaps the other way round? >take pitoi You can't see any such thing. >l Store Room The inventory of foodstuffs on offer here includes vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, and skyphoi of skyr -- there's also a pile of kraters spilled against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. >take pithoi They're tempting, but you don't want to ruin your appetite before the party proper! >put olives in amphora The amphora's interior is sufficiently inaccessible that you're worried you'd never see the pithoi of pitted olives again. >n Cellar It's perhaps a judgment on the cellar that the only things you care to notice about it are the exits. One might think the stairs to be the likeliest prospect, but Alky's fetching form is currently interposing itself. More immediately relevant are the lighted openings to the west and south, and coming in a distant fourth in the niceness sweepstakes is the dim, cave-y area to the east. Alky idly inquires how you're getting along with things. >e Cave This unfinished bit of the cellars is more of a cave than a cellar, and it's sufficiently dark that you can't guarantee you'll sleep nightmare-free tonight. Alky, and the eventual party, lie westward, and -- less attractively -- more darkness stretches eastward. >e Darkness You're surrounded by the black and inky every which way you look, which is generally not how you choose to pass your evenings. >e It's rather too dim to be blundering about aimlessly, or rather, you're not so dim as to do so. >n It's rather too dim to be blundering about aimlessly, or rather, you're not so dim as to do so. >s It's rather too dim to be blundering about aimlessly, or rather, you're not so dim as to do so. >w Cave This unfinished bit of the cellars is more of a cave than a cellar, and it's sufficiently dark that you can't guarantee you'll sleep nightmare-free tonight. Alky, and the eventual party, lie westward, and -- less attractively -- more darkness stretches eastward. >search cave You can't see any such thing. >w Cellar It's perhaps a judgment on the cellar that the only things you care to notice about it are the exits. One might think the stairs to be the likeliest prospect, but Alky's fetching form is currently interposing itself. More immediately relevant are the lighted openings to the west and south, and coming in a distant fourth in the niceness sweepstakes is the dim, cave-y area to the east. >x stairs It's made of boards, and you've rarely been as bored as you are now, looking at a staircase when there's a party to get to! >take board You can't see any such thing. >s Store Room The inventory of foodstuffs on offer here includes vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, and skyphoi of skyr -- there's also a pile of kraters spilled against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. >move vases Not exactly man-portable, old man. >move lekythoi Not exactly man-portable, old man. >move bowls Not exactly man-portable, old man. >move pithoi Not exactly man-portable, old man. >move kylixes Not exactly man-portable, old man. >move skyphoi Not exactly man-portable, old man. >search pile Now this is quite the pile! >touch lamp Maybe for a dare, but there's no one around to offer one. >take lamp They're chained to the ceiling, so you can't work out how to do that, or at least how to do that without scattering scalding-hot oil every which way. >x ceiling There's rather an oppressively large amount of dirt looming not very high above you, here, which is unrewarding to contemplate. Though, now that you peer more closely, it looks like the ceiling's a bit higher above the pile of kraters, with perhaps some kind of ledge up there. >u You scrabble up the pile of kraters, which teeter this way and that under your unexpected weight. Just as they're ready to topple, you leap onto the conveniently-placed ledge. Darkness You're surrounded by the black and inky every which way you look, which is generally not how you choose to pass your evenings. >touch ledge You can't see any such thing. >take all You might be better understood if you took things more step-by-step. >search What do you want to search? >darkness You can't see any such thing. >d Store Room The inventory of foodstuffs on offer here includes vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, and skyphoi of skyr -- there's also a pile of kraters spilled against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. >i You are carrying: the Krater of the East a frayed rope (tied to the krater of the east) the amphora some barley a knife a well-tailored chiton (being worn) the list of ceremonial desiderata >w There are many fine directions you could traipse from here, but sadly that isn't among them. >n Cellar It's perhaps a judgment on the cellar that the only things you care to notice about it are the exits. One might think the stairs to be the likeliest prospect, but Alky's fetching form is currently interposing itself. More immediately relevant are the lighted openings to the west and south, and coming in a distant fourth in the niceness sweepstakes is the dim, cave-y area to the east. You see Alky at the top of the stairs, flirting with anything that comes within arm-span. >ask alky about lamp You get a blank look of the sort with which you're well acquainted. >ask alky about oil You get a blank look of the sort with which you're well acquainted. >ask alky about skyr You get a blank look of the sort with which you're well acquainted. Alky pulls a flask out of his chiton, downs a swallow, and visibly decides to save the rest for himself rather than offer you any (you suppose you need to be fully initiated into the Mysteries to get the good stuff). >ask alky about flask "There's plenty to drink at the banquet," Alky says, resolutely hanging on to his flask. >take flask That seems to belong to Alky. >kiss alky It's really not that sort of party. Alky calls a greeting up the stairs at one of the fellows passing by above. >kick alky Violence is against the code, old man. >smell Given contemporary standards of hygiene, you try not to open the old olfactory channels too widely without a specific purpose. >s Store Room The inventory of foodstuffs on offer here includes vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, and skyphoi of skyr -- there's also a pile of kraters spilled against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. >smell Given contemporary standards of hygiene, you try not to open the old olfactory channels too widely without a specific purpose. >n Cellar It's perhaps a judgment on the cellar that the only things you care to notice about it are the exits. One might think the stairs to be the likeliest prospect, but Alky's fetching form is currently interposing itself. More immediately relevant are the lighted openings to the west and south, and coming in a distant fourth in the niceness sweepstakes is the dim, cave-y area to the east. >w Granary Heaps of mostly-rotten grain clog the room everywhere you turn. The main cellar, offering a relative respite for your nose, lies east. >take grain You've done sillier things than carry around rotting, inedible grain in your youth -- even as recently as this morning, if you're being honest -- but you like to think you've grown wiser from such experiences, and as such, leave the grain where it is. >search grain There is, unsurprisingly, a lot of grain in this granary; what's rather more outside-of-the-box is that nobody apparently could be troubled to put it in anything, and it's rather just heaped about the place. Inasmuch as there's a non-negligible amount of humidity, if not outright dankness, it's all completely rotten. >move grain Not exactly man-portable, old man. >smell Oh good heavens no. >dig What do you want to dig? >grain As your Great-Aunt has said, you're not one to get your hands dirty. >e Cellar It's perhaps a judgment on the cellar that the only things you care to notice about it are the exits. One might think the stairs to be the likeliest prospect, but Alky's fetching form is currently interposing itself. More immediately relevant are the lighted openings to the west and south, and coming in a distant fourth in the niceness sweepstakes is the dim, cave-y area to the east. You see Alky at the top of the stairs, flirting with anything that comes within arm-span. >open krater It isn't something you can open. >search it Red-figure depictions of Eos, flora and fauna from Asia Minor, &c. The legend reading "Krater of the East" provides a supernumerary clue. A rather worn rope is tied in a loop around the krater's handles. >s Store Room The inventory of foodstuffs on offer here includes vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, and skyphoi of skyr -- there's also a pile of kraters spilled against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. >put krater on kraters Putting things on the pile of kraters would achieve nothing. >put krater on lamps Putting things on the oil lamps would achieve nothing. >throw knife at lamps You're not generally given to hurling things about willy-nilly (at least, not after that night in '27). >i You are carrying: the Krater of the East a frayed rope (tied to the krater of the east) the amphora some barley a knife a well-tailored chiton (being worn) the list of ceremonial desiderata >x rope You admire this piece of rope, still sturdy despite being frayed to an inch of its life (assuming ropes have life, which now that you think of it, they don't). It's currently tied to the krater of the east by the second-best sheepshead you've ever tied. >cut rope The krater would be a bit inconvenient to carry without the rope acting as sort of strap -- now you think of it, you're juggling rather a lot of kit, here -- so you think better of further rope-trimming. >cut lamps They're chained to the ceiling, so you can't work out how to do that, or at least how to do that without scattering scalding-hot oil every which way. >cut chain They're chained to the ceiling, so you can't work out how to do that, or at least how to do that without scattering scalding-hot oil every which way. >cut ceiling Steady on! >cut krater Steady on! >cut kraters Steady on! >l Store Room The inventory of foodstuffs on offer here includes vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, and skyphoi of skyr -- there's also a pile of kraters spilled against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. >x dirt There's rather an oppressively large amount of dirt looming not very high above you, here, which is unrewarding to contemplate. Though, now that you peer more closely, it looks like the ceiling's a bit higher above the pile of kraters, with perhaps some kind of ledge up there. >touch dirt You feel nothing unexpected. >u You scrabble up the pile of kraters, which teeter this way and that under your unexpected weight. Just as they're ready to topple, you leap onto the conveniently-placed ledge. Darkness You're surrounded by the black and inky every which way you look, which is generally not how you choose to pass your evenings. >u It's rather too dim to be blundering about aimlessly, especially with that steep drop close to hand! >n It's rather too dim to be blundering about aimlessly, especially with that steep drop close to hand! >w It's rather too dim to be blundering about aimlessly, especially with that steep drop close to hand! >e It's rather too dim to be blundering about aimlessly, especially with that steep drop close to hand! >s It's rather too dim to be blundering about aimlessly, especially with that steep drop close to hand! >d Store Room The inventory of foodstuffs on offer here includes vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, and skyphoi of skyr -- there's also a pile of kraters spilled against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. >x mirror You can't see any such thing. >w There are many fine directions you could traipse from here, but sadly that isn't among them. >n Cellar It's perhaps a judgment on the cellar that the only things you care to notice about it are the exits. One might think the stairs to be the likeliest prospect, but Alky's fetching form is currently interposing itself. More immediately relevant are the lighted openings to the west and south, and coming in a distant fourth in the niceness sweepstakes is the dim, cave-y area to the east. >e Cave This unfinished bit of the cellars is more of a cave than a cellar, and it's sufficiently dark that you can't guarantee you'll sleep nightmare-free tonight. Alky, and the eventual party, lie westward, and -- less attractively -- more darkness stretches eastward. >w Cellar It's perhaps a judgment on the cellar that the only things you care to notice about it are the exits. One might think the stairs to be the likeliest prospect, but Alky's fetching form is currently interposing itself. More immediately relevant are the lighted openings to the west and south, and coming in a distant fourth in the niceness sweepstakes is the dim, cave-y area to the east. Alky explains to you his plan for invading Sicily -- or maybe it's his plan of attack for dinner, you get confused midway through and, to be fair, hot oil features in both. >x alky Now here's a chap who really fills out a chiton. Those flashing eyes, those silken curls, that perennial sneer have charmed many a gal and many more a fellow. He's strumming idly on his third-best lyre. He's also got a torch tucked under his arm, which conveys a dashing devil-may-care-insouciance but is also a fire hazard. >x torch Peering into the heavily-smoking torch is going swimmingly, until suddenly your eyes start to sting. You try it again just to be sure -- by Jove, you're nearly certain that this rummy smoke is the culprit! >ask alky for torch "Oh, this thing?" asks Alky, with a fetching sneer of the lip. "It sputters more than you do, but take it if you like it so much." He hands it over. >i You are carrying: a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) the Krater of the East a frayed rope (tied to the krater of the east) the amphora some barley a knife a well-tailored chiton (being worn) the list of ceremonial desiderata >n There are many fine directions you could traipse from here, but sadly that isn't among them. >s Store Room The inventory of foodstuffs on offer here includes vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, and skyphoi of skyr -- there's also a pile of kraters spilled against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. >u You scrabble up the pile of kraters, which teeter this way and that under your unexpected weight. Just as they're ready to topple, you leap onto the conveniently-placed ledge. Ledge Above the Store Room This must be the most precarious ledge you've ever perched upon -- though speaking frankly you're having a hard time recollecting any also-rans, what with the steep decline to the store room below being awfully distracting. Away from the edge, there's a dark tunnel to the southeast, which isn't exactly inviting but at least promises some relief from the vertigo of your present position. >se Spring Source This high cavern is the source of a bubbling stream of water, which springs out of some nearby rocks, swirls for a while in a clean pool, and then dramatically leaps off the edge of a cliff as though it's trying to impress a potential romantic partner (though hard experience has taught you that this is less of a sure-fire stratagem than you'd think). The dark ledge is back to the northwest. >fill amphora with water You dip the amphora into the pool until it's full up with water. It's rather heavy now, but you suppose you can put up with a modicum of toil for now, since the rest of the evening should be full of nothing but delightful ease. >drink water You're typically not much of one for the non-alcoholic libations, but a swallow of this hits the spot! >search amphora This is definitely an amphora, and not a vase. Or is that backwards? It's got a very narrow neck and stands about two feet tall, and is tied to iron rings in the wall by a well-knotted rope that's seen better days. It's full of water, which has made the barley float right up by the neck. >take barley The barley floats in the water, coming close enough to the opening that it's easy to lift out. >i You are carrying: some barley a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) the Krater of the East a frayed rope (tied to the krater of the east) the amphora (full of clear water) a knife a well-tailored chiton (being worn) the list of ceremonial desiderata >read list -The krater of the east (a krater is a sort of large vase) -An amphora of clear water (an amphora is a different sort of large vase) -A knife. Any knife will do, and there are probably some up here now that I think of it, but you might as well pick one up for us while you're down there, eh? -An ear of barley, for the kykeon (you'll like the kykeon!) -A sprig of pennyroyal, adds a delightful minty flavor to the kykeon (look for the lavender flowers!) >d You get ready to heave yourself into the muddy pool far below, but balk at the last moment: the point of all this rigmarole is to get ready for a shin-dig, and shin-digs are hard to enjoy when you've been shin-deep in a mud-pool. >nw Ledge Above the Store Room This must be the most precarious ledge you've ever perched upon -- though speaking frankly you're having a hard time recollecting any also-rans, what with the steep decline to the store room below being awfully distracting. Away from the edge, there's a dark tunnel to the southeast, which isn't exactly inviting but at least promises some relief from the vertigo of your present position. >d Store Room The inventory of foodstuffs on offer here includes vases of veal, lekythoi of leeks, bowls of beer, pithoi of pitted olives, kylixes of kielbase, and skyphoi of skyr -- there's also a pile of kraters spilled against the far wall. Near the opening that leads back to the cellar to the north, oil lamps hang from the low earthen roof to provide light, but the ceiling opens up considerably towards the southern wall. >n Cellar It's perhaps a judgment on the cellar that the only things you care to notice about it are the exits. One might think the stairs to be the likeliest prospect, but Alky's fetching form is currently interposing itself. More immediately relevant are the lighted openings to the west and south, and coming in a distant fourth in the niceness sweepstakes is the dim, cave-y area to the east. >e Cave This unfinished bit of the cellars is more of a cave than a cellar, and despite your sputtering torch, it's sufficiently dark that you can't guarantee you'll sleep nightmare-free tonight. Alky, and the eventual party, lie westward, and -- less attractively -- more darkness stretches eastward. >e More Cave You don't like to criticize, but this cavernous chamber is definitely darker than would be ideal. As before, light, civilization, and friends who know how to fill out a toga lie west, darkness and yet more cave are to the east. >e Yet Additional Cave This seems like it must be a natural cave, because the alternative -- that whatever architect designed these cellars decided that his vision required this many tunnels, and that whatever workmen hired to realize the said vision quarried then out uncomplainingly -- is too bleak to contemplate. Per the long-settled drill, bright areas, familiar friends, all that is good in the world, the promise of alcoholic drinks, laughter, conversation, and a heretofore-taken-for-granted absence of dank cave smells are all west, and everything not counted in column A is east. >e Quite Sufficient Qua Cave So Far As You're Concerned You are a broad-minded man. When old Ptolly was over the moon for that Scythian bird, everyone else laughed, but you helped him translate his love poems into her awful dialect, spending many a late night poring over lexicons until you had it just right (the fact that, upon receipt of the poem aforementioned, she got her tribe to launch one of the more vicious raids Athens has seen these past few decades, was surely down to the inherent weaknesses in the source text's scansion and meter, rather than any flaw in your work). But -- all this to say, even for someone of your generally liberal tendencies, this is really getting to be a bit much. To get back to Alky and the rest of the cellars, you'll need to return through more cave to the west than you care to contemplate, while another chamber opens up to the south. >s Garden You let out an approving cluck when you realize that, contrary to expectation, you have at last run out of cave. This largish grotto seems to be some kind of subterranean garden -- a grated opening in the roof of the cavern lets in copious moonlight (you deduce that this would be sunlight during the day), which shines on a large, desultorily-tended bed of herbs. There's a higher part of the cave above you, whence gushes a muddy waterfall that's created a larger, even muddier pool. The world's most boring cave system waits for you to the north. >x herbs The bed holds row after row of herbs, with quite a lot, it must be admitted, occupying the purple-ish portion of the palette. That pennyroyal might take some finding. >search herbs You find a lavender herb! No, wait, now you look closer actually this one's violet. >search herbs You find a lavender herb! No, wait, now you look closer actually this one's mauve. >search herbs You find a lavender herb! No, wait, now you look closer actually this one's fuchsia. >read list -The krater of the east (a krater is a sort of large vase) -An amphora of clear water (an amphora is a different sort of large vase) -A knife. Any knife will do, and there are probably some up here now that I think of it, but you might as well pick one up for us while you're down there, eh? -An ear of barley, for the kykeon (you'll like the kykeon!) -A sprig of pennyroyal, adds a delightful minty flavor to the kykeon (look for the lavender flowers!) >search flowers You find a lavender herb! No, wait, now you look closer actually this one's mauve. >search flowers You find a lavender herb! No, wait, now you look closer actually this one's violet. >smell Mmmm, there's a delightful smell of mint coming from one of these purplish herbs -- that must be the pennyroyal! >search flowers You find a lavender herb! No, wait, now you look closer actually this one's lilac. >smell You catch a delightful whiff of mint from the pennyroyal. >take pennyroyal Having zeroed in on the correct herb through your superior nasal acuity, you pluck a sprig of pennyroyal from its bed. >n Now that you know the way to the garden, it's a simple matter to retrace your steps back to the cellar. Cellar It's perhaps a judgment on the cellar that the only things you care to notice about it are the exits. One might think the stairs to be the likeliest prospect, but Alky's fetching form is currently interposing itself. More immediately relevant are the lighted openings to the west and south, and coming in a distant fourth in the niceness sweepstakes is the dim, cave-y area to the east. You see Alky at the top of the stairs, flirting with anything that comes within arm-span. >u As you start up the stairs, Alky grabs the list from you and gives you the once-over; you flush, but sadly he's not seeing if you look fetching so much as he's seeing whether you've done all the fetching. Alky takes a good sniff of you. "Mmm, minty -- you must have found the pennyroyal!" "Ah, you've got some water!" Alky says. "Don't worry, we're not drinking it." You show Alky the ear of barley; it's off-color and limp, like your Great-Uncle Sargy's sense of humor, but it must pass muster since after a few moments of skeptical perusal Alky gives a short nod. "Good show," Alky crows as he takes in the krater. "Oh, there's that knife!" Alky smiles at you, but gives you a wide berth, as though he's worried that you'll wind up accidentally pricking him, like you did that one time last week, or the three times the week before that. "Cheerio, that looks like the lot!" Alky says. "Onward and upward!" He helps you manage your somewhat-unwieldy collection of vegetable matter, pottery, fire-sticks, and sharp objects up the stairs, though you somewhat lose track of your possessions in the process. Please press SPACE to continue. Upon surmounting the stairs, you take a deep breath of the fresh air -- a chap can only be subterranean for so long before longing to inhale the old clear-and-rarefied. You've come up into a courtyard, amidst a crowd of chaps who burst into raucous applause once they see you and Alky ferrying up the instruments of merriment. One of them, a thin-faced, sallow number, comes over to take custody of the loot. "Here you are, Puffy," says Alky, humping the amphora into the other's arms. "Kick us off, eh?" This rather-inappositely-named Puffy motions for silence, and the fellows oblige him. After two or three more throat-clearings than seem strictly necessary by your book, he sweeps his arm around to take in the crowd. "Brethren," he intones, "initiates of the sacred mysteries, on this most holy and solemn night we welcome newcomers to our fold, that they may learn the praise that is most pleasing to the God and Goddess, and partake of our portion of eternity." "I'd settle for partaking of our portion of the wine!" pipes up one of your fellow initiates, prompting further cheering from the hoi polloi and a pained grimace from Puffy. "Get on with it," comes another call, and Puffy, sensing that he's losing the room, waves his hand in surrender. "All right chaps, I'll hurry it up!" He drags the amphora over to a fountain in the middle of the courtyard with some speed, pouring it out then discarding it with such haste that it breaks in the confusion, to much hooting from the mob. He dashes some water from the fountain into the krater you brought, then pours it out -- then does the same with another, matching krater, though pouring it out in the opposite direction this time, as though it were a real hit the first time but needed just a little tweak to really bowl them over. "That's the libation sorted, you lot can get to the feasting," he yells. "Initiates, come to the telesterion for the ceremony." With much rejoicing, the crowd disperses, leaving you alone. Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. You can also see a frayed rope and a largish chunk of amphora here. >take rope Taken. >take chunk Taken. >i You are carrying: a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >n Closet Either the rites of Eleusis involve quite a lot of fancy-dress shenanigans, or one of the priests is a clothes horse of very little discernment, because this small room is chock-a-block with clothes, including a hat rack, a bin for accessories, and a bench heaped with shoes -- everything you might need for a party or some light comic theater. The peristyle is back to the south. >search rack This wooden number sports a profusion of hats -- among the swarm, a silly, floppy tam, some ear warmers, and a crown of laurels catch your eye. >take tam Taken. >take warmers Taken. >take laurels Taken. >search rack This wooden number sports a profusion of hats -- none of the swarm of hats has much to recommend, though. >search bin You root around in the bin like a pig whose supper depends on finding a prize truffle. Your best finds are a feather boa, and a gold chain that could do for a belt in a pinch. >take boa Taken. >take chain Taken. >take boa You already have that. >search bin You root around in the bin like a pig whose supper depends on finding a prize truffle. You don't come up with anything new, sadly (all the worse for the notional pig). >l Closet Either the rites of Eleusis involve quite a lot of fancy-dress shenanigans, or one of the priests is a clothes horse of very little discernment, because this small room is chock-a-block with clothes, including a hat rack, a bin for accessories, and a bench heaped with shoes -- everything you might need for a party or some light comic theater. The peristyle is back to the south. >search bench A number of shoes -- hopefully an even one -- are heaped on this bench. You particularly notice a pair of sandals like Hermes would wear, and a set of cothurni, like actors wear. >take sandals Taken. >take cothurni Taken. >search clothes Up close, these items are fairly tawdry -- your valet would not approve. >s Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >x fountain The water in the fountain is clean and clear enough, though much less enticing than what's on offer at the feast. >touch water You feel nothing unexpected. >drink water Water's not your usual wheeze, but dashed if that wasn't refreshing! >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. A crowd of your soon-to-be-fellow initiates mob the comestibles and imbibables spread across the tables, breaking into song when the mood hits and intermittently flit to one of the numberless couches for a lie-down when the system needs a touch of strengthening. Alky is amidst the mob but somehow not of it, elegant and poised even as he gobbles down a handful of grapes. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >x spread If you had any doubts about the divine nature of the mysteries, this smörgåsbord would remove all doubt. There's more kinds of food and libation here than you can count (admittedly a low-ish number, as the somewhat-clunky Attic numeral system isn't doing you any favors on this score). Olives, dates, figs, and grapes, each plumper than the last, overflow the tables, and that's just the roundish things! There's a massive roast and dozens of cheeses -- oh, you could get used to this. A pepper pot and a sampling-platter of honeyed cakes round things out, and some toothpicks are neatly piled at the far end of the table next to a solitary cup (everyone else must have taken theirs already). >take olives You make up a plate from the goodies on offer. >take dates You've already made up a plate. Alky tells you something clever he heard off of that Socrates fellow, but it's a bit hard to follow and leaves you knowing less than when you started. >x plate A plate of scrummy delights -- ooh, that grape looks good! >eat food (the plate of food) You wolf down the goodies -- when this is all over, you must find the chef to offer your compliments (and possibly poach them for your club in Athens). >i You are carrying: a set of cothurni a pair of Hermes sandals a gold chain a feather boa a crown of laurels some ear warmers a silly floppy tam a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >take plate You make up a plate from the goodies on offer. >take toothpick You pluck a toothpick from the pile. Alky calls a greeting at one of the fellows passing by. >ask alky about food "The spiritual verities are all well and fine, but it's the spread that really makes these the only truly first-class mysteries," Alky opines. >ask alky about spread "The spiritual verities are all well and fine, but it's the spread that really makes these the only truly first-class mysteries," Alky opines. >x initiates You can't see any such thing. >x mob These fellows are much too intent on their stomachs to bother with you. >x table If you had any doubts about the divine nature of the mysteries, this smörgåsbord would remove all doubt. There's more kinds of food and libation here than you can count (admittedly a low-ish number, as the somewhat-clunky Attic numeral system isn't doing you any favors on this score). Olives, dates, figs, and grapes, each plumper than the last, overflow the tables, and that's just the roundish things! There's a massive roast and dozens of cheeses -- oh, you could get used to this. A pepper pot and a sampling-platter of honeyed cakes round things out, and some toothpicks are neatly piled at the far end of the table next to a solitary cup (everyone else must have taken theirs already). >take cup Taken. Alky explains to you his plan for invading Sicily -- or maybe it's his plan of attack for dinner, you get confused midway through and, to be fair, hot oil features in both. >fill cup (with the urns of wine) You fill the cup brim-full with wine. >drink wine (the cup) You toss back the cup. Now that's the stuff! >fill cup (with the urns of wine) You fill the cup brim-full with wine. Alky calls a greeting at one of the fellows passing by. >drink wine (the cup) You toss back the cup. Now that's the stuff! >fill cup (with the urns of wine) You fill the cup brim-full with wine. >drink wine (the cup) You toss back the cup. Now that's the stuff! Alky pulls a flask out of his chiton, downs a swallow, and visibly decides to save the rest for himself rather than offer you any (you suppose you need to be fully initiated into the Mysteries to get the good stuff). >fill cup (with the urns of wine) You fill the cup brim-full with wine. >drink wine (the cup) You toss back the cup. Now that's the stuff! >fill cup (with the urns of wine) You fill the cup brim-full with wine. Alky idly inquires how you're getting along with things. >ask alky about wine (the cup) You get a blank look of the sort with which you're well acquainted. You emit a small "hic" -- that wine must have gone to your head! >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. A crowd of your soon-to-be-fellow initiates mob the comestibles and imbibables spread across the tables, breaking into song when the mood hits and intermittently flit to one of the numberless couches for a lie-down when the system needs a touch of strengthening. Alky is amidst the mob but somehow not of it, elegant and poised even as he gives a date a dainty nibble. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. Alky canvasses your opinion on a naval versus an infantry strategy for peeling off the Peloponnesian League's allies, which reminds you that you really need to catch up on the news. >drink wine (the cup) You toss back the cup. The wine is starting to make the world a bit fuzzy! >drink wine The last time you drank this much, you wound up stealing a hoplite's helmet and being hauled before the law-courts, so perhaps it's best to give the temperance wheeze a go for now. >fill cup (with the urns of wine) You fill the cup brim-full with wine. Alky tells you something clever he heard off of that Socrates fellow, but it's a bit hard to follow and leaves you knowing less than when you started. You hiccup again. >drink wine (the cup) The last time you drank this much, you wound up stealing a hoplite's helmet and being hauled before the law-courts, so perhaps it's best to give the temperance wheeze a go for now. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >e Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Esmond Kerykes -- Puffy to his friends -- lounges about. Blimey! That bloke over there is your cousin, Machon Ephippus-Ephipus. Who knew he was on the to-be-initiated list too? That thin bloke Alky called "Puffy" greets you as you enter. "Welcome to the telesterion," he says, and while you're revolving that in the noodle (you figure out the "far away" part straightaway, but the rest is a bit flummoxing), you somewhat lose track of the rest of the rigmarole. The gist seems to be that you've a few more hoops to jump through, of a ceremonial nature, and you can get the ball rolling by asking the said Puffy about the said ritual. You hiccup again. >ask puffy about hoops You get a blank look of the sort with which you're well acquainted. >ask puffy about ceremony "Let's get cracking," Puffy says, rubbing his hands together. "The ritual starts with some call and response," Puffy says. At your blank look he elaborates: "I'll say something, then you repeat it back. Here, let's try to make sure you've got it, I'll say..." As he hesitates, Machon pipes up, "how about blooey!" Puffy, with a pained wince, acquiesces. >fooey That action might be a bit esoteric for the evening's proceedings. >say fooey (to Puffy) There is no reply. You hiccup again. Puffy says "blooey," not without a sour glare at Machon, and looks at you expectantly. >say blooey (to Puffy) Puffy nods at you, relieved by your ability to follow simple directions (there are benefits, pedagogically speaking, to having a Great-Aunt!) You've got the bit between your teeth vis a vis this call and response wheeze now, and you keep pace all through some balderdash Puffy spouts about rains and children and flowers and all sorts of soppy nonsense. But then he draws you up short: "All right, this last part's a little different," Puffy says (you hesitate, about to open your mouth and repeat this back too, before he dissuades you with a quick shake of the head). "Now in a moment I'll ask who bore a great son, and you say mighty Potnia." >z Time passes. "Who bore a great son?" Puffy intones in your general direction. >say might potnia (to Puffy) There is no reply. You hiccup again. "Great son?" Puffy asks again. You're sure that this time you'll get it! >say "mighty Potnia" (to Puffy) "Mighty Potnia," you say with confidence, only to be met with a chorus of bemusement. "No, that's not quite it," scolds Puffy. "Insufficiently plosive, old man," Machon Ephippus-Ephipus puts in. "More nasal, more emphasis on the first syllable." "Great son?" Puffy asks again. He's got a look on his face like he's said the words too much and they're starting to get blurry, if a word can get blurry, which you have to concede seems unlikely. >say "mighty Potnia" (to Puffy) Dashed if you can tell the difference, but your pronunciation is still not nasal or eruptive enough for Puffy. "Great son?" Puffy asks again. You're beginning to feel that this Potnia should go soak her head. >say "mighty Potnia" (to Puffy) Dashed if you can tell the difference, but your pronunciation is still not nasal or eruptive enough for Puffy. You hiccup again. "Great son?" Puffy asks again. You're sure that this time you'll get it! >say "mighty Potnia" (to Puffy) Dashed if you can tell the difference, but your pronunciation is still not nasal or eruptive enough for Puffy. "I don't think you're quite getting it," Puffy tsks in disappointment. "Perhaps a snack and a drink would help?" He turns away. >l Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. >ask machon about machon "Oh, can't complain, can't complain," Machon says, patting his stomach with a self-satisfied smile. >ask machon about me "You're my second-favorite third-cousin," he says, beaming. "Or wait, maybe it's the other way 'round." You hiccup again. >ask machon about potnia Machon blinks. "Who was that you said?" >ask machon about alky "Sounds like one of your fancy friends," Machon says. >ask machon about puffy "Seems like a nice enough bloke," Machon yawns. "When I first got here he kept pestering me to do one thing or another, but after I got sleepy he told me not to worry, he'd have you take care of it all." He smiles at you. "Thanks coz!" You hiccup again. >ask machon about wine (the cup) You get a blank look of the sort with which you're well acquainted. >ask machon about food "Yes, a repast to remember," Machon says, suppressing a belch. "Though I've just had a little nibble as of yet -- don't want to ruin my appetite! >ask machon about ceremony "It all seems a jolly lark so far!" Machon says, with puppyish enthusiasm. You hiccup again. >w Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >drink water Water's not your usual wheeze, but dashed if that wasn't refreshing! After a moment, you're pretty sure that it's fixed your hiccups, too. >eat plate You wolf down the goodies -- when this is all over, you must find the chef to offer your compliments (and possibly poach them for your club in Athens). >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. A crowd of your soon-to-be-fellow initiates mob the comestibles and imbibables spread across the tables, breaking into song when the mood hits and intermittently flit to one of the numberless couches for a lie-down when the system needs a touch of strengthening. Alky is amidst the mob but somehow not of it, elegant and poised even as he drains a bowl of wine to the dregs. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >take plate You make up a plate from the goodies on offer. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >eat toothpick That's plainly inedible. >use it That action might be a bit esoteric for the evening's proceedings. >i You are carrying: a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick a set of cothurni a pair of Hermes sandals a gold chain a feather boa a crown of laurels some ear warmers a silly floppy tam a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. A crowd of your soon-to-be-fellow initiates mob the comestibles and imbibables spread across the tables, breaking into song when the mood hits and intermittently flit to one of the numberless couches for a lie-down when the system needs a touch of strengthening. Alky is amidst the mob but somehow not of it, elegant and poised even as he contemplates an olive. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >ask alky about potnia "Oh yes, I recall that bit," Alky says. "The trick is all in the nose." Alky canvasses your opinion on a naval versus an infantry strategy for peeling off the Peloponnesian League's allies, which reminds you that you really need to catch up on the news. >put olives in nose (first taking the banqueting olives) You've already made up a plate. >i You are carrying: a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick a set of cothurni a pair of Hermes sandals a gold chain a feather boa a crown of laurels some ear warmers a silly floppy tam a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >put food in nose (the plate of food in the nose) That doesn't offer much by way of a receptacle, sadly. >put toothpick in nose That doesn't offer much by way of a receptacle, sadly. Alky pulls a flask out of his chiton, downs a swallow, and visibly decides to save the rest for himself rather than offer you any (you suppose you need to be fully initiated into the Mysteries to get the good stuff). >put cothurni in nose That doesn't offer much by way of a receptacle, sadly. >put chunk in nose That doesn't offer much by way of a receptacle, sadly. >put rope in nose That doesn't offer much by way of a receptacle, sadly. Alky tells you something clever he heard off of that Socrates fellow, but it's a bit hard to follow and leaves you knowing less than when you started. >put tam in nose That doesn't offer much by way of a receptacle, sadly. >i You are carrying: a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick a set of cothurni a pair of Hermes sandals a gold chain a feather boa a crown of laurels some ear warmers a silly floppy tam a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >x chunk This was definitely an amphora, and not a vase. Or is that backwards? This head-sized chunk, from the bottom part of the thing, is that all that survived Puffy's tender ministrations. >x tam Now this number is right up your alley -- it's a lurid purple and fringed with tassels and bells. >wear it The bright, floppy, be-belled tam settles upon your brow as though you were born to it. Your current ensemble looks a little silly. >wear warmers A bit hard to do that when you've already got the silly floppy tam warming the old dome! Alky canvasses your opinion on a naval versus an infantry strategy for peeling off the Peloponnesian League's allies, which reminds you that you really need to catch up on the news. >wear laurels A bit hard to do that when you've already got the silly floppy tam warming the old dome! >x laurels This wreath is a classic fancy-dress wheeze. >x warmers This doohicky is two swatches of fur attached to either end of a band -- were the evening a bit cooler, they'd be quite the thing for the 'ol whorlies! >x boa It reminds you of how Alky looked that morning after he decided to go drinking in the dye-works. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >e As you enter, Puffy bustles over to you, officious. "Are you ready to get on with the initiation?" he asks. After a moment's pause that awkwardly stretches to two moments, you realize this wasn't rhetorical. Please answer yes or no.> yes Puffy leads you into the Telesterion and into the stage area. Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Esmond Kerykes -- Puffy to his friends -- lounges about. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. "Remember, just repeat everything I say," Puffy says. You can do that! >z Time passes. Puffy says "blooey," not without a sour glare at Machon, and looks at you expectantly. >say blooey (to Puffy) Puffy nods at you, relieved by your ability to follow simple directions (there are benefits, pedagogically speaking, to having a Great-Aunt!) You breeze through the easy bits, until once again you face that "mighty Potnia" business. >say "mighty potnia" (to Puffy) You need to wait a moment for Puffy to give you the prompt. "Who bore a great son?" Puffy intones in your general direction. >say "mighty potnia" (to Puffy) Dashed if you can tell the difference, but your pronunciation is still not nasal or eruptive enough for Puffy. "Great son?" Puffy asks again. Frankly at this point you'd call this son something other than great. >push nose Your policy towards your nose is one of benign neglect, and you see no reason to change that now. "Great son?" Puffy asks again. He looks at you, hopeful yet wary. >say "mighty potnia" (to Puffy) Dashed if you can tell the difference, but your pronunciation is still not nasal or eruptive enough for Puffy. "Great son?" Puffy asks again. You're sure that this time you'll get it! >say "mighty potnia" (to Puffy) Dashed if you can tell the difference, but your pronunciation is still not nasal or eruptive enough for Puffy. "Great son?" Puffy asks again. Frankly at this point you'd call this son something other than great. >say "mighty potnia" (to Puffy) Dashed if you can tell the difference, but your pronunciation is still not nasal or eruptive enough for Puffy. "I don't think you're quite getting it," Puffy tsks in disappointment. "Perhaps a snack and a drink would help?" He turns away. >n There are many fine directions you could traipse from here, but sadly that isn't among them. >l Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Esmond Kerykes -- Puffy to his friends -- lounges about. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. >x couch You're certainly no expert, but the construction, varnishing, and upholstering of these tables and couches strike you as an example of carpentological excellence. While you enjoy their aesthetics, your somewhat-plump cousin Machon, sprawled heavily across one of the couches, is probably more appreciative of their structural integrity. >i You are carrying: a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick a set of cothurni a pair of Hermes sandals a gold chain a feather boa a crown of laurels some ear warmers a silly floppy tam (being worn) a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >x cothurni You've seen stage actors wearing these leather-boot-ish numbers with a platform sole; looking taller both feeds the ego and makes one more visible to the cheap seats. >wear them You pull on the boots, tottering a little as you adjust to the high soles. Your outfit is fairly ridiculous, but perhaps you've not quite attained the acme of silliness. >wear chain The chain doesn't feature a buckle, so you're momentarily stymied as to how to keep the chain in place. You eventually give up and just knot it into place, somewhat undercutting the elegance of the effect. Your outfit is fairly ridiculous, but perhaps you've not quite attained the acme of silliness. >wear boa You'll be the first to admit you've been rather liberal with the hors d'oeuvres these past few months, but you don't think you're so far gone as to need a second belt on top of the gold chain! >smell torch There's a not-unpleasant fug of incense hanging about. >l Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Esmond Kerykes -- Puffy to his friends -- lounges about. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. >x grating You peer through the grating, and see a harp player in a side-room, plucking the old catguts with a look of concentration on his face. >ask harp player about harp The harpist really looks like he doesn't want to be bothered. >pull grating The harpist really looks like he doesn't want to be bothered. >x pillars They say if you've seen one pillar, you've seen them all, and by the evidence here you agree (though you do have just a touch of nearsightedness, so possibly there's some excitement going on somewhere in all those ceiling-adjacent blurs). >listen You enjoy the harp music for a moment, staying mostly on tune as you hum along. >x stage Puffy stands in this open area, where the ceremonious proceedings are meant to eventuate. Atop a table near the stage, there's a shallow basin and a small platter. >enter stage That's not something you can enter. >x basin Quite a nice piece, Attic, red-figure, some elegant treatment of Dionysiac motifs -- probably school of Phintias? -- though there were some flaws in the firing that will lead to cracking in a few years' time (you have a Great-Uncle in the business, a fellow picks these things up). It's currently empty, allowing you to appreciate the painter's artistry all the more. >enter it That's not something you can enter. >x platter This dish is a plausible contender for the least-exciting snack plate you've ever seen -- the pennyroyal and somewhat-manky barley you recovered from below are all that's on offer. >take barley There comes a moment in every fellow's life when he asks himself, "have I spent enough time carting around an ear of near-rotted barley for one night?" For you, the answer is an unequivocal yes. >take platter No thank you. >push it It is fixed in place. >smash it Violence is against the code, old man. >search basin Quite a nice piece, Attic, red-figure, some elegant treatment of Dionysiac motifs -- probably school of Phintias? -- though there were some flaws in the firing that will lead to cracking in a few years' time (you have a Great-Uncle in the business, a fellow picks these things up). It's currently empty, allowing you to appreciate the painter's artistry all the more. >i You are carrying: a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick a set of cothurni (being worn) a pair of Hermes sandals a gold chain (being worn) a feather boa a crown of laurels some ear warmers a silly floppy tam (being worn) a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >put chunk in basin You've spent enough time gathering bric-a-brac for this shindig, so if Puffy needs something else to go in the basin, he can put it there himself! >x puffy You once asked Alky how Puffy got his nickname. "Puffy is as puffy does," Alky said, which you thought was wonderfully smart though, naturally, sufficiently over your head that you've still not the faintest idea. At any rate, this specimen of the Kerykes clan is if anything rather gaunt -- looking at the bony shoulder poking out from under his chiton just makes you sad. >ask puffy about puffy "I'm very well, thank you," Puffy says flatly. "These initiations are the most fun I have all year." >ask puffy about potnia "It's a bit of a tricky word," Puffy allows. "It has to come out rather suddenly, like you're spitting. But don't spit!" he says reprovingly. >ask puffy about potnia "It's a bit of a tricky word," Puffy allows. "It has to come out rather suddenly, like you're spitting. But don't spit!" he says reprovingly. >ask harp player about potnia The harpist really looks like he doesn't want to be bothered. >l Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Esmond Kerykes -- Puffy to his friends -- lounges about. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. >w Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >d As you tread your way back down the stairs, you take a mo to tot up the pros vs. the cons of this course of action. Here: libations, cheer, bosom companions, and an intriguing initiation. There: dankness, the largest heap of rotten grain you've ever seen, a thoroughly ramified cave system, and one admittedly-quite-picturesque waterfall. Your brain wraps up its cogitations by the time you reach step number seven, and you congratulate yourself on your narrow escape as you scurry back upwards. >enter fountain You splash some water about your face -- bracing! >swim What do you want to swim in? >fountain You splash some water about your face -- bracing! >w It'd be a long, cold, dark walk back to Athens, even leaving aside that you're not yet really initiated and there's quite a lot of revelry yet undone. >i You are carrying: a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick a set of cothurni (being worn) a pair of Hermes sandals a gold chain (being worn) a feather boa a crown of laurels some ear warmers a silly floppy tam (being worn) a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >eat toothpick That's plainly inedible. >pick teeth (the toothpick) You insert the toothpick as far back into the ivories as seems safe, and give a few exploratory wiggles. >i You are carrying: a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick a set of cothurni (being worn) a pair of Hermes sandals a gold chain (being worn) a feather boa a crown of laurels some ear warmers a silly floppy tam (being worn) a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >e As you enter, Puffy bustles over to you, officious. "Are you ready to get on with the initiation?" he asks. After a moment's pause that awkwardly stretches to two moments, you realize this wasn't rhetorical. Please answer yes or no.> yes Puffy leads you into the Telesterion and into the stage area. Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Esmond Kerykes -- Puffy to his friends -- lounges about. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. "Remember, just repeat everything I say," Puffy says. You can do that! >z Time passes. Puffy says "blooey," not without a sour glare at Machon, and looks at you expectantly. >say blooey (to Puffy) Puffy nods at you, relieved by your ability to follow simple directions (there are benefits, pedagogically speaking, to having a Great-Aunt!) You breeze through the easy bits, until once again you face that "mighty Potnia" business. >say "mighty potnia" (to Puffy) You need to wait a moment for Puffy to give you the prompt. "Who bore a great son?" Puffy intones in your general direction. >say "mighty potnia" (to Puffy) Dashed if you can tell the difference, but your pronunciation is still not nasal or eruptive enough for Puffy. "Great son?" Puffy asks again. You feel like you're in one of those dreams where everything happens the same way over and over. >pick teeth (the toothpick) You insert the toothpick as far back into the ivories as seems safe, and give a few exploratory wiggles. "Great son?" Puffy asks again. He looks at you, hopeful yet wary. >say "mighty potnia" (to Puffy) Dashed if you can tell the difference, but your pronunciation is still not nasal or eruptive enough for Puffy. "Great son?" Puffy asks again. You're beginning to feel that this Potnia should go soak her head. >w "I don't think you're quite getting it," Puffy tsks in disappointment as you leave the room. "Perhaps a snack and a drink would help?" He turns away. Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. A crowd of your soon-to-be-fellow initiates mob the comestibles and imbibables spread across the tables, breaking into song when the mood hits and intermittently flit to one of the numberless couches for a lie-down when the system needs a touch of strengthening. Alky is amidst the mob but somehow not of it, elegant and poised even as he drains a bowl of wine to the dregs. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >drink wine (the cup) The last time you drank this much, you wound up stealing a hoplite's helmet and being hauled before the law-courts, so perhaps it's best to give the temperance wheeze a go for now. Alky explains to you his plan for invading Sicily -- or maybe it's his plan of attack for dinner, you get confused midway through and, to be fair, hot oil features in both. >drink wine (the cup) The last time you drank this much, you wound up stealing a hoplite's helmet and being hauled before the law-courts, so perhaps it's best to give the temperance wheeze a go for now. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >e As you enter, Puffy bustles over to you, officious. "Are you ready to get on with the initiation?" he asks. After a moment's pause that awkwardly stretches to two moments, you realize this wasn't rhetorical. Please answer yes or no.> no "Hrmph," Puffy sniffs, "ask me about the ritual when you are ready." Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Esmond Kerykes -- Puffy to his friends -- lounges about. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. >x ceiling You lift your eyes heavenward, thinking that's the sort of thing one does in the middle of a ceremony. The marble ceiling is nice enough, but you quickly grow bored. >eat food You wolf down the goodies -- when this is all over, you must find the chef to offer your compliments (and possibly poach them for your club in Athens). >eat all You can't use multiple objects with that verb. >l Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Esmond Kerykes -- Puffy to his friends -- lounges about. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. >ask machon about potnia Machon blinks. "Who was that you said?" Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Esmond Kerykes -- Puffy to his friends -- lounges about. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. >l Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Esmond Kerykes -- Puffy to his friends -- lounges about. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. >s There are many fine directions you could traipse from here, but sadly that isn't among them. >w Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. A crowd of your soon-to-be-fellow initiates mob the comestibles and imbibables spread across the tables, breaking into song when the mood hits and intermittently flit to one of the numberless couches for a lie-down when the system needs a touch of strengthening. Alky is amidst the mob but somehow not of it, elegant and poised even as he contemplates an olive. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >take olive You make up a plate from the goodies on offer. Alky idly inquires how you're getting along with things. >x spread If you had any doubts about the divine nature of the mysteries, this smörgåsbord would remove all doubt. There's more kinds of food and libation here than you can count (admittedly a low-ish number, as the somewhat-clunky Attic numeral system isn't doing you any favors on this score). Olives, dates, figs, and grapes, each plumper than the last, overflow the tables, and that's just the roundish things! There's a massive roast and dozens of cheeses -- oh, you could get used to this. A pepper pot and a sampling-platter of honeyed cakes round things out, and some toothpicks are neatly piled at the far end of the table. >take pepper pot You take a pinch and sniff -- ooh, now that's peppery! >take cakes You can't help yourself -- you grab a big lump of honey cake in case you want a nibble later on. You've got a little tickle in your nose. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. This definitely feels like a sneeze coming on. >e As you enter, Puffy bustles over to you, officious. "Are you ready to get on with the initiation?" he asks. After a moment's pause that awkwardly stretches to two moments, you realize this wasn't rhetorical. Please answer yes or no.> yes Puffy leads you into the Telesterion and into the stage area. Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Esmond Kerykes -- Puffy to his friends -- lounges about. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. "Ah-CHOO!" Your sneeze sounds like a goose's honk. "Remember, just repeat everything I say," Puffy says. You can do that! >z Time passes. Puffy says "blooey," not without a sour glare at Machon, and looks at you expectantly. >say blooey (to Puffy) Puffy nods at you, relieved by your ability to follow simple directions (there are benefits, pedagogically speaking, to having a Great-Aunt!) There's that tickle again. You breeze through the easy bits, until once again you face that "mighty Potnia" business. >z Time passes. This definitely feels like a sneeze coming on. "Who bore a great son?" Puffy intones in your general direction. >say "mighty potnia" (to Puffy) You get out the "mighty" just fine, but a massive sneeze overcomes you just as you hit the "Potnia" part -- a nasal explosion that wins plaudits and catcalls from everyone save Puffy, who's rather drenched in the results of your triumph. "I suppose that's close enough," he says, wringing out the hem of his chiton. "Ask me about the ritual when you're ready for the next bit." >ask puffy about ritual "Yes, let's get on with it," says Puffy, sniffing in what's either irritation or a coming head-cold. "Where was I..." "This next bit might be hard for you," Puffy says with concern. "You just need to stay quiet while I prepare the kykeon." You're about to ask what the blazes this kykeon is that he and Alky are always going on about, but as the fellow's a born pedant, he's already explaining: "we make a special drink from the barley and pennyroyal you brought us, plus a few other special ingredients, then drink it at the end of the ceremony." >z Time passes. There's that tickle again. Puffy takes out a knife -- your knife! -- from his sleeve, and slowly tests its point on his finger. >z Time passes. This definitely feels like a sneeze coming on. Now Puffy moves to the platter, and takes the pennyroyal and the ear of barley you found earlier. >z Time passes. "Ah-CHOO!" Your sneeze sounds like a lamb's bleat. Puffy looks at you, horrified. "We need silence! Talk to me when you're ready to try again." >w Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >drink water Water's not your usual wheeze, but dashed if that wasn't refreshing -- and it seems to have washed out your throat, too! >e As you enter, Puffy bustles over to you, officious. "Are you ready to get on with the initiation?" he asks. After a moment's pause that awkwardly stretches to two moments, you realize this wasn't rhetorical. Please answer yes or no.> yes Puffy leads you into the Telesterion and into the stage area. Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Esmond Kerykes -- Puffy to his friends -- lounges about. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. Puffy heaves a sigh and motions for you to be quiet as he once again starts to prepare the kykeon. >z Time passes. Puffy takes out a knife -- your knife! -- from his sleeve, and slowly tests its point on his finger. >z Time passes. Now Puffy moves to the platter, and takes the pennyroyal and the ear of barley you found earlier. >z Time passes. Slowly, Puffy drags the knife across the barley, cutting a few kernels off into a shallow basin, then crushes the pennyroyal and throws it in too. >z Time passes. You wait for a moment, sure that there must be something more interesting to come, but no, Puffy appears to be finished, and one of his assistants whisks the platter and basin away. "It's a symbolic act," he says defensively, "means new life will come from old." You nod, as though this follows -- at any rate, that's one more part of this thing-gummy finished, so you can check in with Puffy when you're ready for the next. >z Time passes. >ask puffy about ritual "Yes, let's get on with it," says Puffy, sniffing in what's either irritation or a coming head-cold. "Where was I..." "All right, now we're getting somewhere," Puffy says. "Next we commemorate those who for a moment brought a smile to holy Demeter's face while she mourned her lost daughter, by invoking divine hilarity." You think you've worked this out, and Puffy confirms it: "Yes, try to make the chaps laugh. Seems in your wheelhouse, no?" >l Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. You shuffle your feet a bit, and the crowd, mistaking that for dancing, gives you a smattering of applause. >i You are carrying: a lump of honey cake a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick a set of cothurni (being worn) a pair of Hermes sandals a gold chain (being worn) a feather boa a crown of laurels some ear warmers a silly floppy tam (being worn) a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >remove chain One mystery you've been initiated into this evening, as it turns out, is that unknotting a chain of gold is deucedly difficult, but eventually you manage it. >wear boa The boa adds a nice splash of color to your ensemble -- or maybe rather a tsunami than a splash. You must admit, your present accoutrements present quite the hilarious prospect. >l Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. The fellows look at you, a bit gormless and certainly not amused. > I beg your pardon? >l Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. >i You are carrying: a gold chain a lump of honey cake a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick a set of cothurni (being worn) a pair of Hermes sandals a feather boa (being worn) a crown of laurels some ear warmers a silly floppy tam (being worn) a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >remove tam The tam jingles as you sweep it off the pate. >wear laurels You settle the crown about your noble brow -- if Great-Aunt Eudoxia could see you now! Your outfit is fairly ridiculous, but perhaps you've not quite attained the acme of silliness. >remove laurels With reluctance, you doff the crown of laurels. Despite your best efforts, boredom has overtaken the crowd. "Best give it a breather," Puffy advises, "come back when you've fine-tuned your act and your persona." >wear warmers You fit the ear warmers around your head -- it feels like your head is being cradled by a bear, but not necessarily in an unpleasant fashion. Your outfit is fairly ridiculous, but perhaps you've not quite attained the acme of silliness. >remove them Not without regret, you slip off the ear warmers. >wear tam The bright, floppy, be-belled tam settles upon your brow as though you were born to it. You must admit, your present accoutrements present quite the hilarious prospect. >w Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >e As you enter, Puffy bustles over to you, officious. "Are you ready to get on with the initiation?" he asks. After a moment's pause that awkwardly stretches to two moments, you realize this wasn't rhetorical. Please answer yes or no.> yes Puffy leads you into the Telesterion and into the stage area. Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Esmond Kerykes -- Puffy to his friends -- lounges about. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. "Give us some singing!" someone calls from the crowd. Now there's an idea! "Alright, let's have some more comedy," Puffy says, his lowered expectations written across his face. >sing You belt out this cracking ditty you heard at last month's symposium -- "rock me, Menelaus". There are real guffaws in the crowd -- this is the stuff! >sing You belt out this cracking ditty you heard at last month's symposium -- "I dream of a trireme". There are real guffaws in the crowd -- this is the stuff! >dance The cothurni make you rather totter as you give a twirl, follow up with a shuffle, and finish with a knee-slide, head-bobbing all the while. There are real guffaws in the crowd -- this is the stuff! >jump The cothurni make you rather totter as you give a spin, follow up with a leap, and finish with a lunge, cha-chaing all the while. There are real guffaws in the crowd -- this is the stuff! >i You are carrying: some ear warmers a crown of laurels a silly floppy tam (being worn) a gold chain a lump of honey cake a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick a set of cothurni (being worn) a pair of Hermes sandals a feather boa (being worn) a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) The fellows look at you, a bit gormless and certainly not amused. >sing You belt out this cracking ditty you heard at last month's symposium -- "rock me, Menelaus". Wave after wave of laughter convulses the crowd, and even Puffy exhales a sharp chortle or two. "Oh, good show!" he says. "Last part," says Puffy, putting a lot of cheek into a heavy exhalation (now you remember where the nickname came from!). "You lot need to pass an hour in silent prayer and meditation while the kykeon brews." >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z hour I only understood you as far as wanting to wait. >l Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >wait 60 I only understood you as far as wanting to wait. >wait 60 minutes I only understood you as far as wanting to wait. >z Time passes. >l Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. >sit What do you want to sit on? >couch You're not yet so far gone as to need a nap (the night is young). >w Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >e Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. >n There are many fine directions you could traipse from here, but sadly that isn't among them. >x puffy You once asked Alky how Puffy got his nickname. "Puffy is as puffy does," Alky said, which you thought was wonderfully smart though, naturally, sufficiently over your head that you've still not the faintest idea. At any rate, this specimen of the Kerykes clan is if anything rather gaunt -- looking at the bony shoulder poking out from under his chiton just makes you sad. >ask puffy about ritual Puffy blinks at you, perhaps taken aback by your rather outlandish getup. "The ritual?" Puffy hisses between his teeth, "you mean this ritual? This one we're doing right now?" >ask puffy about meditation Puffy blinks at you, perhaps taken aback by your rather outlandish getup. "Honestly, any prayers are fine, pick whatever god you like," Puffy confides in you and gives a little laugh. "Just need to run out the clock while the kykeon brews." >pray Your prayer starts out strong, but as you get to a particularly dull bit about Persephone's fruit-plate preferences, your left eyelid starts to droop down -- for you, an infallible herald of an oncoming nap -- and you jerk awake in horror. If there's one thing your Great-Aunts have taught you about prayer vigils, it's that you can't sleep through them. >pray Your prayer starts out strong, but as you get to a particularly dull bit about Persephone's fruit-plate preferences, despite all your good intentions once again your eye starts to droop. You've got to keep it open! >pray Your prayer starts out strong, but as you get to a particularly dull bit reciting the list of which birds give good omens, despite all your good intentions once again your eye starts to droop. You've got to keep it open! >put toothpick on eye Putting things on the left eye would achieve nothing. >put toothpick in eye Carefully -- very carefully! -- you use the toothpick to prop your left eyelid open. After a bit of fiddling, you get it wedged in there pretty good! It's not exactly comfortable, but there's little risk you'll nod off while it's there. >pray You're getting through your prayers, but you're interrupted by a wheeze, and not the diverting kind -- searching for the source, you see that Machon Ephippus-Ephipus' slouch has turned into more of a fully-horizontal jobby. Puffy was quite specific about all of you keeping the vigil, so you resolve to do your part to get him through -- it's the brotherly thing to do! >pray Ephippus-Ephipus is nodding off again, poor lamb, and emits a dry, repetitive snore. You can't very well keep prodding him awake while you're in the middle of your meditations, though -- you might need some help with this. >pray Ephippus-Ephipus is nodding off again, poor lamb, and emits a dry, repetitive snore. You can't very well keep prodding him awake while you're in the middle of your meditations, though -- you might need some help with this. >i You are carrying: some ear warmers a crown of laurels a silly floppy tam (being worn) a gold chain a lump of honey cake a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick (currently propping open your left eye) a set of cothurni (being worn) a pair of Hermes sandals a feather boa (being worn) a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >throw torch at ephippus You're quite sure he wouldn't feel so cousinly towards you if you tried that! >push ephippus You rouse Macon with a gentle shake. He smiles his thanks, then emits a small yawn. >pray Ephippus-Ephipus is nodding off again, poor lamb, and emits a dry, repetitive snore. You can't very well keep prodding him awake while you're in the middle of your meditations, though -- you might need some help with this. >x player You can't see any such thing. >x grating You peer through the grating, and see a harp player in a side-room, plucking the old catguts with a look of concentration on his face. >x harp You peer through the grating and see a harp player in a side-room, plucking the old catguts with a look of concentration on his face. >x harp player You peer through the grating and see a harp player in a side-room, plucking the old catguts with a look of concentration on his face. >ask harp player about macon harpist blinks at you, perhaps taken aback by your rather outlandish getup. The harpist really looks like he doesn't want to be bothered. >pray Ephippus-Ephipus is nodding off again, poor lamb, and emits a dry, repetitive snore. You can't very well keep prodding him awake while you're in the middle of your meditations, though -- you might need some help with this. >w Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. A crowd of your soon-to-be-fellow initiates mob the comestibles and imbibables spread across the tables, breaking into song when the mood hits and intermittently flit to one of the numberless couches for a lie-down when the system needs a touch of strengthening. Alky is amidst the mob but somehow not of it, elegant and poised even as he gives a date a dainty nibble. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. Alky explains to you his plan for invading Sicily -- or maybe it's his plan of attack for dinner, you get confused midway through and, to be fair, hot oil features in both. >ask alky about macon Alky blinks at you, perhaps taken aback by your rather outlandish getup. You get a blank look of the sort with which you're well acquainted. >i You are carrying: some ear warmers a crown of laurels a silly floppy tam (being worn) a gold chain a lump of honey cake a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick (currently propping open your left eye) a set of cothurni (being worn) a pair of Hermes sandals a feather boa (being worn) a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >remove tam The tam jingles as you sweep it off the pate. >remove cothurni You slide the cothurni off, relieved that now only children and the exceptionally short will be able to see your nose-hairs. You see Alky flirting with anything that comes within arm-span. >remove boa With a tinge of regret, you unclasp the boa from about your hips. >ask alky about macon You get a blank look of the sort with which you're well acquainted. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >i You are carrying: a feather boa a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a lump of honey cake a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick (currently propping open your left eye) a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >e Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Good old Machon Ephippus-Ephipus slouches on a couch, having temporarily lost his struggle to stay upright. >throw wine at macon You can't see any such thing. >throw cup at macon You can't see any such thing. >empty cup at machon I only understood you as far as wanting to empty the cup. >throw wine at machon You're quite sure he wouldn't feel so cousinly towards you if you tried that! >throw cup at machon You're quite sure he wouldn't feel so cousinly towards you if you tried that! >drink wine The last time you drank this much, you wound up stealing a hoplite's helmet and being hauled before the law-courts, so perhaps it's best to give the temperance wheeze a go for now. >give wine to machon Machon, emitting the occasional snore, is insensible to the world about him. >i You are carrying: a feather boa a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a lump of honey cake a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick (currently propping open your left eye) a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >give cake to machon Machon Ephippus-Ephipus doesn't look like he wants it. >x machon Machon, emitting the occasional snore, is insensible to the world about him. >pray Ephippus-Ephipus is nodding off again, poor lamb, and emits a dry, repetitive snore. You can't very well keep prodding him awake while you're in the middle of your meditations, though -- you might need some help with this. >w Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. A crowd of your soon-to-be-fellow initiates mob the comestibles and imbibables spread across the tables, breaking into song when the mood hits and intermittently flit to one of the numberless couches for a lie-down when the system needs a touch of strengthening. Alky is amidst the mob but somehow not of it, elegant and poised even as he contemplates an olive. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. Alky explains to you his plan for invading Sicily -- or maybe it's his plan of attack for dinner, you get confused midway through and, to be fair, hot oil features in both. >ask alky about machon "He could use some help staying awake, couldn't he? I suppose I could be bothered." Alky saunters out of the banquet hall, shooting you a come-hither look. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, source of drinking songs and belches, and eastwards, whence quiet music and some jolly bracing incense waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >e Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and a crowd of the already-initiated bustling about to witness the ceremonies. Some tasteful harp music is piping in from a low grating at the back of the hall, behind a cleared area that's doing its best impression of a stage. The peristyle is back to the west. Your cousin Machon Ephippus-Ephippus is seated on a couch, doing his best to stay upright. Alky is looming over poor Machon, prodding him when he's in danger of slipping into Hypnos' embrace. >pray You mumble your way through an hour's worth of prayers. Finally, well after you've started looking about for a water-clock to check whether the hour is up, Puffy's assistant returns, carefully tottling in a brim-ful oinochaio, or is it an oinochoai, or an oinocha-cha -- a jug, you decide, a brim-ful jug. "The kykeon is ready," Puffy declares, and gosh, this bird is good at bringing the portent. "You are about to become full initiates into the mysteries -- so from now on you can't talk about not talking about what you can't talk about. Right?" You think you're supposed to nod, so you do, while taking the opportunity to de-toothpick your eye. Meanwhile the assistant runs out to the banquet-hall to round up the rest of the crowd, making the telesterion rather a standing-room-only concern and throwing you, Machon, and Alky into a neighborly clump. Puffy raises the jug to his lips, not without a bit of sloshing, and drinks quite the quaff. He makes a face, then hands it back to the assistant, who circles the room offering a chug to each personage in their turn. "We stand together in Eleusis to celebrate the most sacred mysteries of life, which have been vouchsafed to us for obeisance and -- say, fellows," Puffy breaks off, laying an unsteady hand against the nearest pillar, "why aren't you standing still? This is no -- time for dancing --". He sinks to the floor. You shoot a look at Machon -- maybe this is a gag they pull on all the new initiates, and that wheeze about dancing means there's about to be a musical number? There was this one supper club where you had to promise to sing in order to get in (and then once you were in and they'd heard you, promise to stop singing in order to stay). But no, this doesn't seem like a gag, as others are now reeling about the same way Puffy is. "I thought the kykeon tasted off," one of them slurs, and for a moment you wonder whether your standards with respect to barley-freshness might need to be recalibrated -- but there's hardly time to assess the impact of agricultural decay on human metabolism before the fellows who've already swallowed their share of the kykeon interrupt your cogitations by making the most frightful stir. In a metamorphosis worthy of a poet, the crowd has suddenly become a mob, with scuffles breaking out left and right, chaps racing flat-out into pillars, and a few unlucky sods crawling back to the jug for seconds and thirds of the perhaps-too-potent kykeon. Suddenly Puffy springs back up, lets out an uninhibited bellow, then sprints out of the room and clear out of the sanctuary, bringing most of the rest of the crowd along in his wake. In the confusion, you kick over the kykeon, in a closing-the-barn-door-after-it's-too-late sort of way, then follow so you don't miss too much of the excitement. Please press SPACE to continue. Great-Aunt Agnes says that things always go wrong when you're around, and you have to allow there's perhaps a smidgen of truth in that -- though now that you think of it, you're always around when you're around -- or to put it another way, you're never around when you're not around -- so you can't say as you have an adequate baseline from which to measure. At any rate, thing are certainly going wrong now. The mob is milling about, somewhere a horse gives a frightened whinny, and who knows where Puffy's wound up. Oh, hang on, there he is! He's on the roof. "Seems to me as though things are wrapping up here," sniffs Alky as he comes over to you and Machon. "Time to head back to Athens for the after party, I think. Oh don't worry," he says, to your questioning look, "you've been properly initiated and all. Or at least that's what we'll tell Puffy once he's better. Though Hippy rather panicked and smashed up my chariot," Alky says, throwing a judgmental glance westward, "so you'll need to see to my horse and vehicle before we can go. And I suppose you should see to Puffy, as well." You're not sure why you've been dragooned into taking care of all of this, but then you see how fetching Alky looks as he leans suavely against a pillar, puckishly tossing his curls, and you resign yourself to playing the dogsbody once again. Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Atop the roof of the temple, Puffy is leaping and capering about like he's taken leave of his gourd (upon reflection, you think that might actually be what's happened). To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, idly cleaning a nail while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >u Getting up on the roof to help Puffy is a capital idea, but your vertical hop is ever so slightly not up to the task, and the pillars here don't have enough frilly bits to provide adequate handholds. >climb statue You're given to understand that these chappies are quite quite sacred, so best to keep one's hands firmly clear. >ask machon about puffy "Poor fellow," Machon says, looking up to where Puffy is gibbering about. "It's like he's dancing to music only he can hear." This is surprisingly profound for your cousin -- you wonder whether he's been slumming it with philosophers. >e Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >n Closet Either the rites of Eleusis involve quite a lot of fancy-dress shenanigans, or one of the priests is a clothes horse of very little discernment, because this small room is chock-a-block with clothes, including a hat rack, a bin for accessories, and a bench heaped with shoes -- everything you might need for a party or some light comic theater. The peristyle is back to the south. >s Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >d As you tread your way back down the stairs, you take a mo to tot up the pros vs. the cons of this course of action. Here: libations, cheer, bosom companions, and an intriguing initiation. There: dankness, the largest heap of rotten grain you've ever seen, a thoroughly ramified cave system, and one admittedly-quite-picturesque waterfall. Your brain wraps up its cogitations by the time you reach step number seven, and you congratulate yourself on your narrow escape as you scurry back upwards. >w Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Atop the roof of the temple, Puffy is leaping and capering about like he's taken leave of his gourd (upon reflection, you think that might actually be what's happened). To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, stifling a yawn while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >n Side of the Temple The path leads to a cozy, tree-lined nook off to the side of the sanctuary, which would be quite the place for peaceful contemplation were it not for the mob tramping about the portico and Puffy dancing one of your louder species of tarantella up on the roof. Of course, one of the things that would make it so suited for a piece of the said peaceful cont. is that it's rather dull -- besides all the trees, there's not much here besides the path leading back south to the portico. >u You lay a preliminary hand on a low branch, but recoil when the buzzing of the bees rises to a menacing key. >i You are carrying: a feather boa a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a lump of honey cake a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >blow torch I didn't understand that sentence. >give torch to bees Cringing away from the occasional over-bold bee, you hold the torch blindly up towards the hive until you think it's gotten an adequate dosage of smoke -- at least, the bees do seem a bit more lassitudinous in their buzzing now. >u You haul yourself up the tree and thence to the roof, not without some difficulty. Roof The first thing you learn upon reaching the summit of the sanctuary is that roofing-tiles have a decided tendency to slip out from under one if one isn't paying the utmost attention. The second thing you learn is that paying the utmost attention is not exactly on the menu when a deranged Puffy is gamboling towards you with an ominous glint in the eye. "You!" he snarls (yes, you'd have to say "snarls") -- "you bollixed everything up! I'll beat you into a jelly!" You utter a note of protest -- if nothing else, this is rum doings after you came up here to help him! -- and do what you can to evade the lunge with which he apparently intends to commence the jellying process. Sadly, the roofing-tiles do not cooperate with your plan, giving out under you as you attempt to flee. Scrabbling about for an anchor-point at the same time Puffy is scrabbling about for your throat, the two of you meet in a less-than-brotherly embrace and immediately tumble off the roof. It's something of a task to disentangle yourself and Puffy, and sort out which limbs belong to whom -- including an awkward moment where it seems as though the thing might not come off and one might need to discuss non-custodial visitation rights vis a vis an ambiguous elbow. At least the fall seems to have knocked some sense into Puffy, as he looks like he's back to his old, lovable, long-suffering self, albeit somewhat the worse for wear. Besides the dirt smeared on his face like greasepaint and the twigs sprouting from his hair, he also has a bit of honeycomb stuck to his chiton (he must have had a run-in with bees on his way to the roof). "Thanks awfully, old chap," he croaks at you, then swallows heavily. "I suppose that wasn't the best batch of kykeon I've brewed, but it can't be helped." Alky and Machon, acting something like a Greek chorus, loudly agree with the sentiment, which seems to reassure him. "I think I need a bit of a lie-down," this somewhat-rattled Puffy says, "good night." He slumps down, landing on what you have to admit is the portico's comfiest-looking pillar. As you dust yourself off and stand, you notice that Puffy seems to have bounced off the herm on his way down, and as a result the statue's unmentionable has been knocked clean off. Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, twiddling his thumbs while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >take unmentionable You don't have the expertise to effect any immediate repairs to the situation, and if you seem too interested someone might think you had something to do with breaking it. >w Yard This nice little yard, bounded by a low wall, is the kind of lovely, bucolic place you'd never be caught dead in if you had the choice. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, by which stands the penultimate herm on the way from Athens to Eleusis, and eastward lies the portico. A shed-like building, or possibly just a shed, stands to the south. Alky's horse Hippy is here, wildly pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). There's a pig hungrily rooting around the yard. Hippy shies away every time the pig comes near her. >pet horse You gently stroke the side of Hippy's neck. Your touch seems to make her calmer -- a critique you've gotten from more than one lady friend, who evidently held that such things should lead rather to a revving up of excitement than the reverse. >take pig This pig's admirable girth suggests that the question isn't so much whether you'd like to shift him about as whether he'd deign to be shifted. >give cake to pig You've seen some fellows with an appetite tuck into their chow like they mean it, but none of them have anything on this pig -- he gobbles down the cake, gives a last dainty lick, then looks back up at you, eager for more. >i You are carrying: a feather boa a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a plate of food a cup (full of wine) a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >give plate to pig You've seen some fellows with an appetite tuck into their chow like they mean it, but none of them have anything on this pig -- he gobbles down the food, gives a last dainty lick, then looks back up at you, eager for more (after the treatment the pig's given the plate, you're content to let it go). >give wine to pig The pig doesn't seem interested -- he's more focused on filling his belly than wetting his whistle. >e Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, stifling a yawn while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >e Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >e Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and now, post-ceremony, an overall air of ravishment and mayhem, with the large pool of kykeon spilling out of its ceremonial jug the most obvious factor depressing property values. The peristyle is back to the west. >take cake You can't see any such thing. >w Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >take acke You can't see any such thing. >take cake You can't help yourself -- you grab a big lump of honey cake in case you want a nibble later on. >take cake (the lump of honey cake) You already have that. >take plate You make up a plate from the goodies on offer. >w There are many fine directions you could traipse from here, but sadly that isn't among them. >put wine on foofd You can't see any such thing. >put wine on food (the cup on the plate of food) Putting things on the plate of food would achieve nothing. >i You are carrying: a plate of food a lump of honey cake a feather boa a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a cup (full of wine) a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >put toothpick in food (the plate of food) That doesn't offer much by way of a receptacle, sadly. >w There are many fine directions you could traipse from here, but sadly that isn't among them. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >w Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, looking up at the moon to guess at the time while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >w Yard Besides the wall that encloses it and the penultimate herm, there's not much to this yard. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, and eastward lies the portico. A shed stands to the south. Alky's horse Hippy is here, anxiously pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). There's a pig hungrily rooting around the yard. Hippy shies away every time the pig comes near her. >take pig This pig's admirable girth suggests that the question isn't so much whether you'd like to shift him about as whether he'd deign to be shifted. >feed pig What do you want to feed the pig? >food You've seen some fellows with an appetite tuck into their chow like they mean it, but none of them have anything on this pig -- he gobbles down the food, gives a last dainty lick, then looks back up at you, eager for more (after the treatment the pig's given the plate, you're content to let it go). >e Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, idly cleaning a nail while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >e Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >take plate You make up a plate from the goodies on offer. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >w Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, frowning while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >w Yard Besides the wall that encloses it and the penultimate herm, there's not much to this yard. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, and eastward lies the portico. A shed stands to the south. Alky's horse Hippy is here, anxiously pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). There's a pig hungrily rooting around the yard. Hippy shies away every time the pig comes near her. >give food to pig You've seen some fellows with an appetite tuck into their chow like they mean it, but none of them have anything on this pig -- he gobbles down the food, gives a last dainty lick, then looks back up at you, eager for more (after the treatment the pig's given the plate, you're content to let it go). >e Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, idly cleaning a nail while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >s There are many fine directions you could traipse from here, but sadly that isn't among them. >e Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >take plate You make up a plate from the goodies on offer. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >d As you tread your way back down the stairs, you take a mo to tot up the pros vs. the cons of this course of action. Here: libations, cheer, bosom companions, and an intriguing initiation. There: dankness, the largest heap of rotten grain you've ever seen, a thoroughly ramified cave system, and one admittedly-quite-picturesque waterfall. Your brain wraps up its cogitations by the time you reach step number seven, and you congratulate yourself on your narrow escape as you scurry back upwards. >e Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and now, post-ceremony, an overall air of ravishment and mayhem, with the large pool of kykeon spilling out of its ceremonial jug the most obvious factor depressing property values. The peristyle is back to the west. >x kykeon If you were to imagine a drink of minty, fermented barley, then imagined that it was ten times worse than the way you first imagined it, you'd be approaching an idea of the foul liquid spilling out of this jug. >take jug Oh good heavens no. >i You are carrying: a plate of food a lump of honey cake a feather boa a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a cup (full of wine) a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >empty cup You discreetly dash out the cup when no one is looking. >fill cup with kykeon Oh good heavens no. >drink kykeon Oh good heavens no. >i You are carrying: a plate of food a lump of honey cake a feather boa a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a cup a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >put cake in kykeon Oh good heavens no. >put kykeon on plate (first taking the spilled kykeon) Oh good heavens no. >l Telesterion You'd rate this as one of your grander halls, with pillars towering upwards to a dimly-visible and smoky ceiling, nicely turned-out furniture lending a note of class, and now, post-ceremony, an overall air of ravishment and mayhem, with the large pool of kykeon spilling out of its ceremonial jug the most obvious factor depressing property values. The peristyle is back to the west. >x pool If you were to imagine a drink of minty, fermented barley, then imagined that it was ten times worse than the way you first imagined it, you'd be approaching an idea of the foul liquid spilling out of this jug. >x jug If you were to imagine a drink of minty, fermented barley, then imagined that it was ten times worse than the way you first imagined it, you'd be approaching an idea of the foul liquid spilling out of this jug. >push jug Not exactly man-portable, old man. >tip jug I didn't understand that sentence. >pull jug Not exactly man-portable, old man. >take it Oh good heavens no. >i You are carrying: a plate of food a lump of honey cake a feather boa a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a cup a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >put food in jug Oh good heavens no. >put boa in jug Oh good heavens no. >put cup in jug That would only spread it out more. >put rope in jug Oh good heavens no. >put torch in jug Oh good heavens no. >w Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >w Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, stifling a yawn while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >n Side of the Temple The path leads to a cozy, tree-lined nook off to the side of the sanctuary, which would be quite the place for peaceful contemplation were it not for the mob tramping about the portico. Of course, one of the things that would make it so suited for a piece of the said peaceful cont. is that it's rather dull -- besides all the trees, there's not much here besides the path leading back south to the portico. >search trees There's a nice copse (or is it a grove?) of trees here, with one noticeably tall tree growing close to the side of the sanctuary, throwing out branches willy-nilly and with a particularly green and springy one growing fairly close to the ground. Olive buds grow everywhere, though they look rather immature (you can sympathize). Closer inspection also reveals a sizable bee hive slung under one of the boughs. >take hive Some honey would hit the spot around this point in the evening, but there are easier ways of getting dessert than abstracting it from under the chin-hairs of a swarm of bees. >eat cake You take a giant bite out of the delicious cake -- somehow, the massive glob doesn't seem any smaller (though your tummy is much fuller). >eat cake You can still feel the last lump like a shotput in your tummy. >eat cake You can still feel the last lump like a shotput in your tummy. >s Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, idly cleaning a nail while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >w Yard Besides the wall that encloses it and the penultimate herm, there's not much to this yard. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, and eastward lies the portico. A shed stands to the south. Alky's horse Hippy is here, anxiously pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). There's a pig hungrily rooting around the yard. Hippy shies away every time the pig comes near her. >give cake to pig You've seen some fellows with an appetite tuck into their chow like they mean it, but none of them have anything on this pig -- he gobbles down the cake, gives a last dainty lick, then looks back up at you, eager for more. >e Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, looking up at the moon to guess at the time while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >s There are many fine directions you could traipse from here, but sadly that isn't among them. >e Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >take cake You can't help yourself -- you grab a big lump of honey cake in case you want a nibble later on. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >w Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, frowning while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >w Yard Besides the wall that encloses it and the penultimate herm, there's not much to this yard. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, and eastward lies the portico. A shed stands to the south. Alky's horse Hippy is here, anxiously pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). There's a pig hungrily rooting around the yard. Hippy shies away every time the pig comes near her. >give cake to pig You've seen some fellows with an appetite tuck into their chow like they mean it, but none of them have anything on this pig -- he gobbles down the cake, gives a last dainty lick, then looks back up at you, eager for more. >e Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, twiddling his thumbs while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >e Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >take cake You can't help yourself -- you grab a big lump of honey cake in case you want a nibble later on. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >w Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, stifling a yawn while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >ask machon about pig "You know, I had a pig once," Machon says. "As a pet, I mean." >ask alky about pig "Looks as though he likes his grub almost as you do," Alky says approvingly. >w Yard Besides the wall that encloses it and the penultimate herm, there's not much to this yard. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, and eastward lies the portico. A shed stands to the south. Alky's horse Hippy is here, anxiously pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). There's a pig hungrily rooting around the yard. Hippy shies away every time the pig comes near her. >pet pig He seems to like that! >show cake to pig The pig perks up, his eyes -- and snout -- raptly following the plate, and by extension, you. >e Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, twiddling his thumbs while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >e Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >l Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >x pig You can't see any such thing. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >w Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, idly cleaning a nail while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >w Yard Besides the wall that encloses it and the penultimate herm, there's not much to this yard. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, and eastward lies the portico. A shed stands to the south. Alky's horse Hippy is here, anxiously pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). There's a pig hungrily rooting around the yard. Hippy shies away every time the pig comes near her. >show cake to pig The pig perks up, his eyes -- and snout -- raptly following the plate, and by extension, you. >x pig Despite Hippy's dislike, this pig seems all right to you -- he snuffles over to you, tongue lolling out. >pet pig He seems to like that! >take pig This pig's admirable girth suggests that the question isn't so much whether you'd like to shift him about as whether he'd deign to be shifted. >give cake to pig You've seen some fellows with an appetite tuck into their chow like they mean it, but none of them have anything on this pig -- he gobbles down the cake, gives a last dainty lick, then looks back up at you, eager for more. >take pig This pig's admirable girth suggests that the question isn't so much whether you'd like to shift him about as whether he'd deign to be shifted. >e Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, looking up at the moon to guess at the time while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >e Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >take cake You can't help yourself -- you grab a big lump of honey cake in case you want a nibble later on. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >w Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, idly cleaning a nail while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >w Yard Besides the wall that encloses it and the penultimate herm, there's not much to this yard. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, and eastward lies the portico. A shed stands to the south. Alky's horse Hippy is here, anxiously pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). There's a pig hungrily rooting around the yard. Hippy shies away every time the pig comes near her. >show cake to pig The pig perks up, his eyes -- and snout -- raptly following the plate, and by extension, you. >show plate to pig The pig perks up, his eyes -- and snout -- raptly following the plate, and by extension, you. >throw plate east You whirl the plate like a discus, sending it spinning to the east. The pig leaps after it in close pursuit, giving a little hop to grab the plate out of the air as soon as it comes within leaping distance. He makes short work of the food, then cheerfully trots back to the yard. >s Workshop The ambiance here in this workshop -- with its worktable, scattering of tools, and general aura of hard, honest toil -- makes you positively allergic. A low opening to the north leads to the only-better-by-comparison yard. Alky's second-best chariot is here, somewhat the worse for wear. >take chariot It would be rather hard to do that given that Alky's chariot isn't in tip-top shape at the moment -- might as well keep it in the workshop until it's back up to snuff. >fix chariot That's a fine aspiration so far as it goes, but to carry it out you'll need to get more specific. >x it Alky's chariot is a sporty little thing, with flashy gilded inlays and a low, sleek profile. Unfortunately, currently one of the wheels is listing, and the reins hang in tatters from their anchoring ring, somewhat limiting the chariot's top speed. >fix wheel That's a fine aspiration so far as it goes, but to carry it out you'll need to get more specific. >take reins That's rather embedded in the chariot's infrastructure. >x ring You know, you must have seen dozens of chariots over the years, but until this evening you can't say as you ever noticed this metal ring jobby where you attach the reins. Only a few shredded bits remain of the reins Hippy broke when she panicked. >tie chain to ring A fabulous idea, but from what your tutor drilled into you about tensile strength, you suspect that trying to use a flimsy gold chain to redirect a galloping horse would be one of those acts of hubris the tragedians are always banging on about. >tie boa to ring It may be a little unorthodox qua rein, but the feather boa should meet the need, and besides, you're sure Alky will like the colors. You knot it to the chariot, then throw in a few extra knots just to be sure. That's one makeshift rein in, so everything's set so long as Alky only turns left. >x wheel You quickly diagnose the concern here -- a significant portion of the rim has been smashed away. With this much wood missing, it's currently somewhat-ineffective qua wheel. You'll need to effect some repairs before it's fit to turn once again. >take wheel With much lifting and grunting, you pull the broken wheel free of the chariot's axiom (you think that's the word). >x it You quickly diagnose the concern here -- a significant portion of the rim has been smashed away. With this much wood missing, it's currently somewhat-ineffective qua wheel. You'll need to effect some repairs before it's fit to turn once again. >l Workshop The ambiance here in this workshop -- with its worktable, scattering of tools, and general aura of hard, honest toil -- makes you positively allergic. A low opening to the north leads to the only-better-by-comparison yard. Alky's second-best chariot is here, somewhat the worse for wear. >x table You're more acquainted with tables than with work, but you think you've got this sorted out -- there's a flat surface, there's a toothy apparatus you recognize as a saw, then a jumble of miscellaneous tools, parts, and whatsits. >x tools The saw you can make out, but otherwise your eyes glaze over as they take in a hodge-podge of pegs, nails, joints (you think), joists (perhaps?), adzes, awls.... If you're fuzzy on the nomenclature, you're even fuzzier on the usage of this miscellany. >x parts The saw you can make out, but otherwise your eyes glaze over as they take in a hodge-podge of pegs, nails, joints (you think), joists (perhaps?), adzes, awls.... If you're fuzzy on the nomenclature, you're even fuzzier on the usage of this miscellany. >x toil Look, if you'd wanted anything to do with hard, honest toil, you'd scarcely be here in the first place, would you? >i You are carrying: a wheel a lump of honey cake a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a cup a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >fix wheel That's a fine aspiration so far as it goes, but to carry it out you'll need to get more specific. >fix wheel with tools I only understood you as far as wanting to fix the wheel. >n Your carefully-cultivated look wouldn't be quite as effective if you were lugging a wheel with you -- best leave that here. >n Your carefully-cultivated look wouldn't be quite as effective if you were lugging a wheel with you -- best leave that here. >l Workshop The ambiance here in this workshop -- with its worktable, scattering of tools, and general aura of hard, honest toil -- makes you positively allergic. A low opening to the north leads to the only-better-by-comparison yard. Alky's second-best chariot is here, somewhat the worse for wear. >i You are carrying: a wheel a lump of honey cake a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a cup a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >put honey on wheel You squeeze a generous helping of honey onto the wheel, making the wood on either side of the gap quite sticky. The de-honeyed cake is rather unappetizing, so you discreetly chuck it away (and lick your fingers clean best as you can). >put sandals on wheel Even if you could cram that into the gap in the wheel's wooden rim, you don't see how it would help. >put cothurni on wheel Even if you could cram that into the gap in the wheel's wooden rim, you don't see how it would help. >put tam on wheel Even if you could cram that into the gap in the wheel's wooden rim, you don't see how it would help. >put warmers on wheel Even if you could cram that into the gap in the wheel's wooden rim, you don't see how it would help. >put laurels on wheel Even if you could cram that into the gap in the wheel's wooden rim, you don't see how it would help. >put toothpick on wheel Even if you could cram that into the gap in the wheel's wooden rim, you don't see how it would help. >put rope on wheel Even if you could cram that into the gap in the wheel's wooden rim, you don't see how it would help. >l Workshop The ambiance here in this workshop -- with its worktable, scattering of tools, and general aura of hard, honest toil -- makes you positively allergic. A low opening to the north leads to the only-better-by-comparison yard. Alky's second-best chariot is here, somewhat the worse for wear. >i You are carrying: a wheel a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a cup a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >put cup on wheel Even if you could cram that into the gap in the wheel's wooden rim, you don't see how it would help. >put chunk on wheel Even if you could cram that into the gap in the wheel's wooden rim, you don't see how it would help. >n Your carefully-cultivated look wouldn't be quite as effective if you were lugging a wheel with you -- best leave that here. >drop wheel Dropped. >n Yard Besides the wall that encloses it and the penultimate herm, there's not much to this yard. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, and eastward lies the portico. A shed stands to the south. There's a pig hungrily rooting around the yard. Hippy shies away every time the pig comes near her. Alky's horse Hippy is here, anxiously pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). >i You are carrying: a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a cup a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >e Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, frowning while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >e Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >s Banquet Hall In theory, the ceremony in the telesterion is the main event, but the spread on offer in this room make it a close-run thing. You could go back to the peristyle by going north if you prefer pillars to prandial delights. >take plate You make up a plate from the goodies on offer. >take cake You can't help yourself -- you grab a big lump of honey cake in case you want a nibble later on. >n Peristyle Come to think, you've never had the foggiest what a peristyle is, but this pillar-and-porch number here seems as reasonable a candidate as any (though twist your arm, it looks just like a courtyard to you). There's a small closet in an outbuilding to the north and the exit to the countryside lies west, but more appealing are the paths southward, where lies the now-deserted banquet hall, and eastwards, whence the sour smells of the spilled kykeon waft. The stairs back down to the cellars are off in a dingy corner. There's a stone fountain at the center of the courtyard, happily burbling just the way you do after Alky's made you drink number seven. >w Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, twiddling his thumbs while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >w Yard Besides the wall that encloses it and the penultimate herm, there's not much to this yard. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, and eastward lies the portico. A shed stands to the south. There's a pig hungrily rooting around the yard. Hippy shies away every time the pig comes near her. Alky's horse Hippy is here, anxiously pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). >throw plate west You whirl the plate like a discus, sending it spinning over the wall. The pig leaps after it in close pursuit, leaving a decrescendoing series of "oinks" in his wake. You miss the friendly blighter, but Hippy seems relieved to have more personal space to herself. >pet hippy You gently stroke the side of Hippy's neck. This doesn't seem to calm her down any further though -- as with Midas, you suppose that one touch pretty much does the business. >e Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, frowning while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >ask alky about wheel "They're meant to be round," Alky says. "There my knowledge stops." >ask machon about wheel You get a blank look of the sort with which you're well acquainted. >w Yard Besides the wall that encloses it and the penultimate herm, there's not much to this yard. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, and eastward lies the portico. A shed stands to the south. Alky's horse Hippy is here, anxiously pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). >s Workshop The ambiance here in this workshop -- with its worktable, scattering of tools, and general aura of hard, honest toil -- makes you positively allergic. A low opening to the north leads to the only-better-by-comparison yard. Alky's second-best chariot is here, somewhat the worse for wear. You can also see a wheel here. >put wheel on chariot The wheel is still hors de combat, so replacing it would be premature. >put wheel on table (first taking the wheel) You put the wheel on the worktable. >x wheel You quickly diagnose the concern here -- a significant portion of the rim has been smashed away. With this much wood missing, it's currently somewhat-ineffective qua wheel. You'll need to effect some repairs before it's fit to turn once again. The wood around the gap has been coated in copious layers of honey, like the world's most splintery baklava. >x table You're more acquainted with tables than with work, but you think you've got this sorted out -- there's a flat surface, there's a toothy apparatus you recognize as a saw, then a jumble of miscellaneous tools, parts, and whatsits. On the worktable is a wheel. >put parts on wheel Even if you could cram that into the gap in the wheel's wooden rim, you don't see how it would help. >x rim You quickly diagnose the concern here -- a significant portion of the rim has been smashed away. With this much wood missing, it's currently somewhat-ineffective qua wheel. You'll need to effect some repairs before it's fit to turn once again. The wood around the gap has been coated in copious layers of honey, like the world's most splintery baklava. >x wood You can't see any such thing. >e There are many fine directions you could traipse from here, but sadly that isn't among them. >take saw Your previous experience gallivanting around with large, sharp objects has been such that you'd rather just use the saw in situ, if needed. >n Yard Besides the wall that encloses it and the penultimate herm, there's not much to this yard. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, and eastward lies the portico. A shed stands to the south. Alky's horse Hippy is here, anxiously pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). >e Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, stifling a yawn while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >n Side of the Temple The path leads to a cozy, tree-lined nook off to the side of the sanctuary, which would be quite the place for peaceful contemplation were it not for the mob tramping about the portico. Of course, one of the things that would make it so suited for a piece of the said peaceful cont. is that it's rather dull -- besides all the trees, there's not much here besides the path leading back south to the portico. >take tree You grab onto the branch -- because the wood is so green, it takes quite a lot of undignified bending and straining, but finally you're able to snap it off the tree. >s Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, idly cleaning a nail while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >w Yard Besides the wall that encloses it and the penultimate herm, there's not much to this yard. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, and eastward lies the portico. A shed stands to the south. Alky's horse Hippy is here, anxiously pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). >s Workshop The ambiance here in this workshop -- with its worktable, scattering of tools, and general aura of hard, honest toil -- makes you positively allergic. A low opening to the north leads to the only-better-by-comparison yard. Alky's second-best chariot is here, somewhat the worse for wear. On the worktable is a wheel. >i You are carrying: a springy green branch a lump of honey cake a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a cup a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >put branch on wheel It's about the right shape, but what with all the knots and twigs and such, the branch hardly seems like a credible replacement for the missing bit of wheel right now. >saw branch (with the saw) Using the saw, you trim off various of the unsightly knots, twigs, &c. until the branch is a smooth, smart-looking number. >put branch on wheel The honey helps glue the branch into place as you strain, bend, and shimmy it onto the rim of the wheel. You lash it all together with some tiny bits of twine you find lying around on the work-table, and at the end of it you've got a mostly-serviceable wheel. >take wheel Taken. >put wheel on chariot With even more lifting and grunting than it took to get it off, you manage to shove the repaired wheel back where it belongs. >take chariot It would be rather hard to do that given that Alky's chariot isn't in tip-top shape at the moment -- might as well keep it in the workshop until it's back up to snuff. >x chariot Alky's chariot is a sporty little thing, with flashy gilded inlays and a low, sleek profile. The reins hang in tatters from their anchoring ring, somewhat limiting the chariot's top speed. >x reins You know, you must have seen dozens of chariots over the years, but until this evening you can't say as you ever noticed this metal ring jobby where you attach the reins. You've got one makeshift rein anchored in place, so everything's set so long as Alky only turns left. >i You are carrying: a lump of honey cake a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a cup a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a frayed rope a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >tie rope to ring You're dubious that the frayed rope is a long-term solution to this rum critical-dearth-of-reins situation, but it only needs to get Alky back to Athens, you reason. You tie it extra tight just to be sure. There, that's brought the reins back up to regulation strength! The impression Alky would make rolling up in the chariot as reconstituted is maybe not precisely as good as that made by the first edition, but as someone whose only previous experience of vehicle maintenance was giving sugar-lumps to your Great-Uncle's oxen, you think you've gone rather above and beyond! After doing one final check to ensure it's up to snuff in both the rolling and the turning departments, you push the chariot out of the workshop -- careful not to ding the doorway as you exit! -- and into the yard. It takes rather more grunting, sweating, and heaving than becomes a chap of your breeding, but eventually the eventuality eventuates and you get it where you want it. As you survey your handiwork with pride, you notice that your manhandling has dislodged a horsey treat from some nether crevice of the chariot. Yard Besides the wall that encloses it and the penultimate herm, there's not much to this yard. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, and eastward lies the portico. A shed stands to the south. Alky's second-best chariot leans against the wall, rakishly askew just like its owner. Alky's horse Hippy is here, anxiously pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). You can also see a horsey treat here. >take treat Taken. >e Portico The hexastyle entrance into the sanctuary of Eleusis has seen calmer evenings. A mob of the fellows swarm around its august pillars, unclear on direction now that the initiation has taken something of an unexpected turn. Directly before the entrance stands a statue, the final herm in the long chain running from Athens to Eleusis. Puffy is collapsed against a pillar off to the side of the entrance. To the east, the peristyle promises some degree of peace, a small yard lies westward, and there's a small path running around the side of the sanctuary to the north. Alky stands amidst but not of the confusion, stifling a yawn while he waits for the hubbub to die down. Machon is here, looking no different now that he's preliminarily initiated into the mysteries of Eleusis. >ask alky about chariot Alky take an approving look towards the yard. "Well, that's not the neatest repair-job I've ever seen, but at least you don't charge for labor!" You take the compliment in stride, though wonder whether that means you can touch him for the cost of the parts next time you're losing at dice. >w Yard Besides the wall that encloses it and the penultimate herm, there's not much to this yard. The Sacred Way begins through a gap in the wall to the west, and eastward lies the portico. A shed stands to the south. Alky's second-best chariot leans against the wall, rakishly askew just like its owner. Alky's horse Hippy is here, anxiously pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps). >enter chariot One doesn't typically lounge about in chariots -- there are far more comfortable places to while away the hours. >give treat to hippy Poor Hippy's evening hasn't been the gastronomical success yours has been, so she grows visibly more cheery upon chomping down the treat. Finally, Hippy calms down, looking like Hercules must have done when the divine madness had passed and he realized that he'd rather stepped in it. She gives a tuneful nicker, either to thank you for everything you've done or just because she's a musical soul. With Hippy calm and the chariot restored, you hitch the one to the other. It's not the world's simplest process (you think you might be trying to do it the wrong way round), and somehow in the confusion Hippy gives a kick that delivers a painful-looking blow to the most vulnerable spot of the nearby herm. You finish the job and nervously step clear -- lots of bad luck today! You wave Alky over now that horse, vehicle, and man are all accounted for and more or less intact, not without a bit of wear and tear around the margins. "Nice spot of business," he says, inclining his head at your accomplishments. "The archons and magistrates might come on rather peevish about the herms once they're informed, but since the damage happened within sanctuary grounds I'm sure Puffy can cool them down. In any event, time to head to the metrop!" In fact the mob here appears to be breaking up, with about an even division between those staggering into the temple and calling uncle on the evening, and those hopping into their chariots to zip back to Athens for the after party (you note that Machon, despite his earlier struggle with somnabulance, is of the latter group). You help Alky get Puffy wedged into the chariot, then join him as he snaps the reins and Hippy takes off onto the Sacred Way at an admirable, though perhaps not completely safety-conscious, pace. Please press SPACE to continue. Sacred Way (in Alky's chariot) The Sacred Way is called that because it's the holiest road in Attica, running all the way from the sanctuary in Eleusis back to Athens, but given the daredevil clip at which Alky is driving Hippy you'd be forgiven for transposing the c with the a in a moment of mental dyslexia. Trees whizz by at a terrific clip, and if you were better at arithmetic you'd be able to calculate your velocity based on how quickly you're overtaking the regularly-placed herms at the side of the road. The wind in your face is nice and fresh, and the evening is cool and bright as you race towards Athens. The one fly in the ointment is that you're rather occupied with holding the still-snoozing Puffy in place, since you're not sure he'd appreciate getting up-close-and-personal knowledge of the Sacred Way. "You know, old man," says Alky, reading your mind, "it might be time to wake Puffy and see if he's sobered up any." >wake puffy You can't really get him to come around. "Here, let me try," Alky calls, and hands you the reins -- just as the road is about to make a sharp curve to the left. >turn left Hippy doesn't seem especially inclined to take instruction from you, or maybe you've managed to confuse her, because she takes the curve a bit too wide -- the rear of the chariot sloughs past the side of the road, colliding with a herm as you pass it and shearing off its unmentionable (more bad luck!) At least this has the salutary effect of jolting Puffy awake, and the even more salutary effect of getting Alky to take back the reins. Up ahead, Machon's chariot comes into view -- you're not sure he's noticed you, which is a bit worrisome given how fast Alky's still driving. >save Ok. >ask alky about machon You draw Alky's attention to Machon and gently imply that he might consider slowing down. He snorts, then pulls back on his reins, which makes Hippy give a louder snort and decelerate sharply. The chariot kicks up a terrific clatter, which startles Machon -- he yanks the reins perhaps a bit harder than he ought, sending his chariot spinning across the road, and inevitably given the way the evening has been going, he smashes into another herm and sends its unmentionable spiraling out into the gloom. Fortunately, before he disappears out of sight behind you, you see Machon pop up none the worse for wear. Less fortunately, Puffy, seeing the damage to the sacred statue, is now hyperventilating. "Oh no oh no oh no," he keens, "it's been decades since a herm was broken -- they'll have my head for losing one!" It occurs to you that Puffy missed the several previous instances of herm-destruction and perhaps should be made aware that it's a tiny bit worse than he thinks.... You think you hear a wolf howling -- or that could be you whimpering at how fast Alky is driving, it's hard to say. >ask puffy about puffy While engaging Puffy in a spot of badinage is ordinarily delightful, what with all the whizzing about in chariots you're afraid distraction could lead to someone, possibly even you, fracturing their gourd. >ask alky about speed While engaging Alky in a spot of badinage is ordinarily delightful, what with all the whizzing about in chariots you're afraid distraction could lead to someone, possibly even you, fracturing their gourd. >pull reins Alky's rather in charge of driving right now. >pull alky Alky might not like that. Hippy gives a loud snort, the likes of which you've only previously when heard when asking your man his opinion of your sartorial choices. >i You are carrying: a lump of honey cake a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a cup a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >give cake to alky Alky doesn't look like he wants it. Alky, seeing that you lack the nerve to do it, takes the bull by its horns and fills Puffy in on the dreadful truth that there are now enough broken herms to make up a small drinking-party. The change in Puffy is immediate -- one doesn't like to label a fellow berserk, but sometimes that's the clearest word to hand. He gives out a bellow, and makes a grab for the reins, shouting about how he needs to go back and fix things (you're no stone mason, but this seems like a tall order, especially given the hour of the night). "Steady on!" Alky calls, trying to shoulder Puffy aside, but the squabble has confused poor Hippy, who decides she will have none of it and skids to a halt. You and Alky manage to grab on for dear life, but Puffy, who luck is really not being kind to tonight, pitches forward off the chariot and, just to crown things off, fractures his bonce and one more herm in coming to a none-too-gentle landing. You rush over to assist, but Puffy throws you off, looking now if anything more deranged than he did after drinking the spiked kykeon. "You fools!" he screams, which is an unkind cut though you notice that Machon's now run up to join you, and with his addition maybe the group judgment is a fair one. "You ruined the mysteries, and now you're bent on destroying the herms too? Well, I won't let you -- I'll beat you to the punch!" With a cry, he levels a terrific kick at the unmentionable attribute of another herm, getting quite a bit of lift onto it as it flies clear, and is no sooner done than he's running to the next one down, bent on yet more destruction. You rush forward to try to rein things in, but Machon, somewhat confused by what's happening, tries to be a good sport and follows Puffy's lead by cracking up some herms of his own. Between the din of everyone's shouts, the panicked neighing of the horse, and the sharp explosions of fracturing statuary, all is pandemonium. Eventually you and Alky are able to restore some semblance of order and talk Puffy down. You coax him back to the chariot and, once you reach Athens, bring him and the rest of the boys to your flat -- nobody's in much mood for the after party now, but after a nightcap or two and some rest you're sure everything will look better in the morning. Please press SPACE to continue. A nightcap or two turned into several more -- more, at least, than you can comfortably count with your head this fuzzy -- but as you thought, with the bright light shining down and your boon companions bunking down with you, things seem, if not exactly right as rain, at least more manageable than they did last night, when all the blasphemous vandalry was really getting you down. But now the birds are chirping, the gentle noises of commerce and socialization drift up from passersby walking and vending beneath your window, and there's a loud pounding, as of armored feet, coming up the stairs to your door... Hang on, that's rather less idyllic! Whoever's on the other side makes a prim little knock. "Good morning, citizen. Are you awake? I'm one of the city's magistrates, and I have some questions to ask you about your whereabouts last night." The others are awake now, though all suffering the fallout from last night's drinking and the dread of public odium. "Look, we can bluff it out," Alky whispers. "Puffy, you can just threaten any fellow who squawks with expulsion from the mysteries, and without any evidence we'll be in the clear." He's confidently walking to the door to throw it open and walk the magistrate through the whole story, when Machon breaks in: "small question, do you think they'd consider the broken-off unmentionables to be evidence?" He spreads out his hands to reveal an even half-dozen of the thing-gummys. "I gathered up as many as I could, so you could fix them," Machon says, looking over to Puffy. "Oh, that was too kind," Puffy replies with a gulp. "Too kind." "Right," says Alky, a grim set to his mouth. "Bluffing's out then." He grabs the chair from your writing desk and sets it against the door as a makeshift barricade. Machon turns to you and hands over the unmentionables, shrugging as you accept them gingerly. "Maybe you can put them out of the way, coz?" Then he and Puffy take up positions next to Alky. Bedroom Your pied-ā-terre in the city provides you with a temporary base during the season -- though given present circs you'd prefer something a bit more castle-like. Beyond the essentials of your bed, a clothes-chest, the fireplace, and an empty shelf (usually your valet puts a vase of flowers here each morning, but lucky for him he's on holiday), the only other furnishing is your writing desk. The gang, plus your press-ganged desk chair, are braced against the door on the west wall that ordinarily only opens onto the stairs, but now leads to a mob bent on justice. There's also a window facing the door, looking down on an alley that presents a dismal prospect that's nonetheless appealing by comparison to the pickle you're currently in. Pity you're too high up to jump! >save Ok. >i You are carrying: six unmentionables a lump of honey cake a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a cup a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >throw unmentionables through window You can't use multiple objects with that verb. >throw unmentionable through window After quickly checking to make sure nobody is looking, you drop an unmentionable out the window. It hits the ground with a rather loud clatter, but that's the least of your problems right now. >throw unmentionable through window There's a bit of a crowd out there now, but you toss out another unmentionable on the theory that -- well, you don't really have a theory but better there than here. >throw unmentionable through window There's a bit of a crowd out there now, but you toss out another unmentionable on the theory that -- well, you don't really have a theory but better there than here. >throw unmentionable through window There's a bit of a crowd out there now, but you toss out another unmentionable on the theory that -- well, you don't really have a theory but better there than here. >throw unmentionable through window There's a bit of a crowd out there now, but you toss out another unmentionable on the theory that -- well, you don't really have a theory but better there than here. >throw unmentionable through window There's a bit of a crowd out there now, but you toss out another unmentionable on the theory that -- well, you don't really have a theory but better there than here. "Citizen, did you hear me?" the magistrate calls through the door. His tone is polite, but you've been on the wrong side of enough judicial proceedings to know an act when you hear one. "If you don't open the door, I will have to consider taking more drastic measures." >i You are carrying: a lump of honey cake a set of cothurni a silly floppy tam some ear warmers a crown of laurels a gold chain a cup a toothpick a pair of Hermes sandals a largish chunk of amphora a heavily-smoking torch (providing light) a well-tailored chiton (being worn) >open door There's currently a makeshift barricade obstructing your door, but if you did want to speed things along, you suppose you could dislodge it. Do you want to make this whole nightmare end that much sooner? Please answer yes or no.> yes You remove the chair, making the barricade rather more of a notional concern. With a final great heave, your door is hurled open, sending the lads flying and leaving quite a dent on the wall where it comes to rest. The first cove through has a gimlet eye and an impressive nose, so you take him for the magistrate. He in turn appears to take you as the ringleader, inasmuch as you weren't getting your hands dirty trying to hold the door. "What's the meaning of this, eh?" he asks, poking a meaty forefinger against your lapel. "When we say open up, a good Athenian opens up!" "Er, sorry old man," you stammer out, "I'm a bit hard of hearing?" He harrumphs, and signals his men to search you and the others. The fellow patting you down has high hopes as he pulls out each of your possessions, but is crestfallen when he sees that though you do carry around a rather odd allotment of items, none of them are precisely contraband. Puffy squirms under the attentions of his fellow, who grows frustrated not to have found anything. Machon says "no need to be physical, chaps, here's all I've got," and turns out his pockets. He seems as surprised as the magistrate to discover an unmentionable there in among the lint. The last henchman runs his hands up and down Alky, who starts breathing heavily and making faces. "Don't stop," he sighs, dancing his tongue over his lips, and the unnerved fellow makes the search rather cursory. "Right, now let's see if they've hidden aught about the place," the magistrate calls. He couldn't be looking over your digs any more coldly were he a Great-Aunt. Please press SPACE to continue. The chest is an obvious place to look, and the magistrate throws it open with a wolfish smirk. He rubs his palms together with glee, then chucks out an unmentionable -- in retrospect, this wasn't the best hiding place you could have chosen. One of the magistrate's men walks over to the fireplace, then moves on. The magistrate turns to examine the writing things on your desk, but quickly loses interest. His inspection complete, the magistrate wheels around at you. "And one last thing -- was it just a coincidence that remnants of a herm were found just below your window?" he snaps, "I think not." He opens his mouth to pronounce his verdict... Please press SPACE to continue. "The sacred herms have been desecrated, and you are the ones responsible! Oh, you'll be paying for this for a long time," the magistrate snarls. But he's brought short by a polite cough from one of his men. "Beggin' yer pardon," he says, "but there was a lot of herms broke, over a dozen by my reckoning. This lot had most but not all." The magistrate revolves this in his noodle, and reaches a conclusion. "So there were more accomplices, eh? You'll give them up or it will go all the worse for you," he threatens. Puffy, Machon, and you gulp in a rapid triple rhythm that would make for a good song, if you ever feel like singing again which feels a remote chance at this juncture. "Yes, we had accomplices," shouts Alky, eyes flashing. "Don't you recognize this man?", he says, indicating Puffy. "He's the high priest of the Eleusinian Mysteries! Our accomplice was the Goddess herself!" "Er, quite," says Puffy, in a not-entirely-convincing fashion. "I have had a revelation from the Goddess -- woe to Athens for we have been judged! She ordered me to withdraw the herms' protection for we no longer merit it." The magistrate looks nonplussed -- he's wavering but you're not sure he's quite bought the bill of sale, so Puffy throws in a supernumerary "woe!" for effect. "All right," he snaps with a begrudging air. "Maybe this is something you need to sort out with the other priests. But none of you lot better leave Athens until we get to the bottom of things." With a closing harrumph, he leads his men out of your digs. The four of you look at each other in silence until you're quite sure they're beyond earshot. "Quick thinking, Puffy," Alky allows. "But I can't say I fancy our odds. Despite that closing admonition, I see a lot of reason to find more hospitable climes. I'd been planning a trip to Sicily -- you lot want to come with?" Please press SPACE to continue. Three months later, as you give yet another hard pull to your oar (turns out this Sicilian trip was more of a bally expedition and you're expected to sing for your supper, except instead of singing it's rowing a trireme), a thought occurs. You turn to your benchmate: "Say, Puffy," you ask, "what, when you get right down to it, were those old mysteries about? They got a bit lost in the shuffle." Puffy heaves a sigh -- he's not the cheerfullest benchmate, it's more fun when you're paired up with Machon. "They're a ritual re-enactment of Persephone's abduction and rescue, symbolizing the regeneration and ultimate ascent of the soul." "Oh," you say. "I mean it's not very good when you just say it like that," Puffy admits. "No, of course." "And Alky probably built it up for you, nothing can ever live up to high expectations." You smile at him in commiseration. "Plus the kykeon -- the kykeon really helps it all land." "Shame it didn't quite come together," you say, then give the oar another pull. Well, there's always next year. *** At least there are no Great-Aunts around *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, see suggestions for AMUSING things to do as well as some end notes, QUIT, or UNDO the last command? > amusing > Post-Game Notes Easily-Overlooked Amusing Things I hope you enjoyed The Eleusinian Miseries! If you did, didn't, or have any other feedback, please send it to me at russo2116@gmail.com or post it on the IF Community Forum. This is my first game, so criticism would be very helpful! A quick note on the historicity, or lack thereof, of the game -- the desecration of the herms was a real event that occurred in Athens in the middle of the Peloponnesian War, documented by Thucydides in his history of the same. The culprit was never found, though Alcibiades, who was viewed as something of an enfant terrible, was blamed, and in fact had to cut short his military expedition to Sicily when he was recalled to stand trial for the crime (seeing which way the wind was blowing, he promptly defected to Sparta -- quite the flexible fellow, he later made a further defection to Persia, then un-defected back to Athens). I tried to avoid anachronisms that would be detectable with 10 seconds of looking at Wikipedia except when I couldn't give up the gag. I'm sure there are some players whose expertise on the period goes much deeper than mine, however, so I would appreciate hearing about any howlers so I can correct them for a post-comp release (I am aware that the opening proem-y bit is a) not remotely close in meter to the dactylic hexamer of the sources it's aping, b) riffing off of epic poems that are not remotely close in time or content to the period I'm loosely depicting here, and c) not as funny as I think it is, but I like the topless towers tumpety-tum gag and so this darling has remained un-killed). Finally, I wanted to name a significant flaw in the game, which is how poorly it does on representation -- all the major characters are European men, with only a few, largely-derisive references to a Great-Aunt and some incidental female-coded names in the crowd scenes to break up the monotony. This is partially a failure of imagination and inability to look past my inspirations, in this case the Wodehouse side of things -- the whole milieu, and many of the jokes, are predicated on the existence of an elite but useless social class (I mean, a major meta joke is that all of this tomfoolery is happening in the middle of a civilization-ending war, and the characters barely notice!). Therefore I felt like including a woman or someone from Asia Minor as one of the main cast would have put them in something of an unfair position and I wasn't sure how to address that without taking the story fairly off course. So for lack of a better idea, I stuck with this approach, though it's probably the aspect of the game with which I'm least content (coming in second is the absolutely atrocious way conversations are coded -- I am no programmer and the source code will prove it). Please press SPACE to continue. > Post-Game Notes Easily-Overlooked Amusing Things > Post-Game Notes Easily-Overlooked Amusing Things Post-Game Notes > Easily-Overlooked Amusing Things Post-Game Notes > Easily-Overlooked Amusing Things 1/38: The gag density in the game is fairly high, but here are some that might have flown under the radar. Have you tried.... Press SPACE to return to the menu or H to reveal another hint. 1/38: The gag density in the game is fairly high, but here are some that might have flown under the radar. Have you tried.... 2/38: X ME twice in succession? Press SPACE to return to the menu or H to reveal another hint. 1/38: The gag density in the game is fairly high, but here are some that might have flown under the radar. Have you tried.... 2/38: X ME twice in succession? 3/38: Wearing a second belt, or hat, or pair of shoes, while you're already wearing a first? Press SPACE to return to the menu or H to reveal another hint. 1/38: The gag density in the game is fairly high, but here are some that might have flown under the radar. Have you tried.... 2/38: X ME twice in succession? 3/38: Wearing a second belt, or hat, or pair of shoes, while you're already wearing a first? 4/38: Running through all the different permutations for JOKE and SING, or DANCEing while wearing different shoes? Press SPACE to return to the menu or H to reveal another hint. 1/38: The gag density in the game is fairly high, but here are some that might have flown under the radar. Have you tried.... 2/38: X ME twice in succession? 3/38: Wearing a second belt, or hat, or pair of shoes, while you're already wearing a first? 4/38: Running through all the different permutations for JOKE and SING, or DANCEing while wearing different shoes? 5/38: EMPTYing an already-empty container? Press SPACE to return to the menu or H to reveal another hint. 1/38: The gag density in the game is fairly high, but here are some that might have flown under the radar. Have you tried.... 2/38: X ME twice in succession? 3/38: Wearing a second belt, or hat, or pair of shoes, while you're already wearing a first? 4/38: Running through all the different permutations for JOKE and SING, or DANCEing while wearing different shoes? 5/38: EMPTYing an already-empty container? 6/38: Xing Alky's chiton? Press SPACE to return to the menu or H to reveal another hint. 1/38: The gag density in the game is fairly high, but here are some that might have flown under the radar. Have you tried.... 2/38: X ME twice in succession? 3/38: Wearing a second belt, or hat, or pair of shoes, while you're already wearing a first? 4/38: Running through all the different permutations for JOKE and SING, or DANCEing while wearing different shoes? 5/38: EMPTYing an already-empty container? 6/38: Xing Alky's chiton? 7/38: ASKing Alky about his flask so you can have a sip? Press SPACE to return to the menu or H to reveal another hint. 1/38: The gag density in the game is fairly high, but here are some that might have flown under the radar. Have you tried.... 2/38: X ME twice in succession? 3/38: Wearing a second belt, or hat, or pair of shoes, while you're already wearing a first? 4/38: Running through all the different permutations for JOKE and SING, or DANCEing while wearing different shoes? 5/38: EMPTYing an already-empty container? 6/38: Xing Alky's chiton? 7/38: ASKing Alky about his flask so you can have a sip? 8/38: Xing all the food in the store room? Press SPACE to return to the menu or H to reveal another hint. Post-Game Notes > Easily-Overlooked Amusing Things Post-Game Notes > Easily-Overlooked Amusing Things Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, see suggestions for AMUSING things to do as well as some end notes, QUIT, or UNDO the last command? >