The Eleusinian Miseries
Mike Russo
ancient Greece Colossal Cash Prize cover art first effort IFComp 2020 IFComp Game male protagonist parser walkthrough Wodehouse
Well, isn't this a lark! After solid years of going after old Alky to let you in on that Mysteries wheeze of his, at last tonight's the night. He's dragged you from Athens to Eleusis for the to-do, but no sooner had you clapped eyes on the wine and canapés than he informed you of a spot of work in need of doing. You've heard of work, you're sure you'll be good at it!
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Sing, O Muse, of war and fame,
The striving of men and the ruin--
Oh hang it, the ruin of something
Or other, I forget the line
Though nothing for it but to go
On with this poem best I can
Sing now of struggle and plunder
I think that the word's plunder,
From topless towers that - no, no,
Wrong word again, topless towers of--
Look I know I'll remember,
From topless towers tum-tumpety-tum
Tumpety tumpety -- wait a tic
Dash it all plunder is wrong
Maybe pillage or flotsam and
Jetsam or I don't quite recall,
The words are just sticking on the
v. tip of the old tongue;
I may have three sheets to the wind
Or one sheet too many in the event
To land this epic poetry jobby.

I say, speaking of being sloshed though, here's one I do remember --

Well, isn't this a lark! The capital's been rather dull of late, but after solid years of going after old Alky to let you in on that Mysteries wheeze of his, at last tonight's the night! He's dragged you off to Eleusis for some sort of to-do, but no sooner had you clapped eyes on the amphorae and canapés amply spread across the courtyard than he informed you of a spot of work in need of doing before the festivities can commence -- and you've drawn the short straw in terms of fetching some paraphernalia up from the temple undercroft.

It made sense at the time -- or so you think, you must admit you nodded off midway through the explanation -- Alky at least wrote it all down for you, the dear.

Less lamb-like of him, he's standing guard over the stairs that lead back to the party. Nothing for it but to get to work -- you've heard of work, you're sure you'll be good at it!

When Alky told you he was taking you to a party, this low, earthen-walled cellar wasn't exactly what you pictured -- though you're trying to be fair-minded and not hold it against what might be a perfectly lovely undercroft once you get to know it.

Rough wooden stairs lead back up to the temple proper, with Alky perching beguilingly yet also obstructively upon the top step to keep you from joining the party before you've done your bit. Openings gape westward and southward, and from the flickering oil-light coming from them you'd guess that they're in regular use. The cellar extends further eastward into darkness, getting less homely and more cave-like by the inch.
About yourself
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.
You look at the chiton
(the well-tailored chiton)
Your manservant detests this chiton, sniffing superciliously about the canary-yellow color being d��class��, but he can soak his head -- as far
as you're concerned, it is just the thing!
You scratch itch
As your fingers brush the side of your head, they come across a hard, cylindrical object.
You take the 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.
You examine the knife
A steel knife, sharper than your wits, hopefully. Or, wait, perhaps the other way round?
You look at what you're carrying with you
You are carrying:
a knife
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
the list of ceremonial desiderata
You look at the list
Alky helpfully handed over this list of all the ritual bric-a-brac he lost in the cellars during his last bender. There are rather a lot of words, so you'll have to really commit if you want to read it.
You read the 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!)

You see Alky at the top of the stairs, flirting with anything that comes within arm-span.
You go west
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.
You look at the 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. 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.
You take it
This works less well than you'd hoped, inasmuch as the amphora is anchored to the wall by the rope.
You cut the rope with the knife
You slash the frayed rope with the knife.
You take the amphora
Taken.
You take the 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.
Look around
Heaps of mostly-rotten grain clog the room everywhere you turn.

The main cellar, offering a relative respite for your nose, lies east.

A piece of frayed rope lies forlorn on the floor.
You examine the heaps
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.
Exits
That action might be a bit esoteric for the evening's proceedings.
Dance
You give a caper, follow up with a shuffle, and finish with a knee-slide, cha-chaing all the while.
Sing
You belt out this cracking ditty you heard at last month's symposium -- "I dream of a trireme".
You look
Heaps of mostly-rotten grain clog the room everywhere you turn.

The main cellar, offering a relative respite for your nose, lies east.
Go east
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.
Go south
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.
You examine the 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.
You examine the krater
Which krater, exactly, are you trying to look at? There's rather a pile of the deuced things.
You read the 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!)
You search the 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.
You take the 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.
You pull the 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.
Look around
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.
Go up
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.

You're surrounded by the black and inky every which way you look, which is generally not how you choose to pass your evenings.
You examine Krater of the East
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.
You go to the north
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.
You talk to Alky
To converse with characters, you can ASK them ABOUT something.
You ask Alky about the light
You get a blank look of the sort with which you're well acquainted.
You ask Alky about lamp
You get a blank look of the sort with which you're well acquainted.

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.
Inventory
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
You ask Alky about the knife
Alky seems confused as to why you're asking about it, seeing as you've got it; and truth be told, now you're somewhat in the same boat yourself.
You ask Alky about the seltzer
You get a blank look of the sort with which you're well acquainted.

Alky idly inquires how you're getting along with things.
Go east
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.
You search the kraters
Now this is quite the pile!
You examine the veal
The veal is lightly seared to mouth-watering perfection.
You look at the beer
The beer looks dark and smells darker.
You examine the olives
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.
You examine the kielbase
Upon closer inspection, this might just be plain old sausage, but you're rather committed to the alliteration wheeze at this point.
You examine the skyr
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.
You examine the pile
Now this is quite the pile!
Go south
It's rather too dim to be blundering about aimlessly, especially with that steep drop close to hand!
You examine the 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.
You examine the ledge
A rock ledge runs around the far wall of the store room, perhaps half a dozen feet above the wild mass of kraters.
You take the dirt
Not exactly man-portable, old man.
You look at the floor
The floor, like the walls, is a clay-ey, mucky sort of number whose contemplation makes you hitch up your chiton.
You examine wall
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.
You go north
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.
Go west
Heaps of mostly-rotten grain clog the room everywhere you turn.

The main cellar, offering a relative respite for your nose, lies east.
You taste it
That's plainly inedible.
You go north
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 notices that his torch is dripping ash on his chiton, and flicks himself clean with a sound that's somewhere between a snort and a bray, but still manages to be charming.
You examine 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.
You ask Alky for the 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.
You look at 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!
Light torch
You're nearly certain that's already on fire.
Go upward
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.

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.
You go to the southeast
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.
You fill amphora
(with the pool of clear 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.
You check what you're carrying
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
Go northwest
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.
Go north
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.
You go to the east
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.
You go east
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.
Go east
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.
You go east
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.
Go south
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.
You examine the 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.
You search the herbs
You find a lavender herb! No, wait, now you look closer actually this one's fuchsia.
Continue
You find a lavender herb! No, wait, now you look closer actually this one's violet.
Continue
You find a lavender herb! No, wait, now you look closer actually this one's lilac.
Continue
You find a lavender herb! No, wait, now you look closer actually this one's mauve. You're beginning to think that the list wasn't narrowing things down sufficiently when it said the herb was lavender.
Keep going
You find a lavender herb! No, wait, now you look closer actually this one's lilac. You're beginning to think that the list wasn't narrowing things down sufficiently when it said the herb was lavender.
You smell the herbs
Mmmm, there's a delightful smell of mint coming from one of these purplish herbs -- that must be the pennyroyal!
You take the pennyroyal
Having zeroed in on the correct herb through your superior nasal acuity, you pluck a sprig of pennyroyal from its bed.
Go north
Now that you know the way to the garden, it's a simple matter to retrace your steps back to the 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.
Go west
Heaps of mostly-rotten grain clog the room everywhere you turn.

The main cellar, offering a relative respite for your nose, lies east.
Go east
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.

Shooting you a sly smile, Alky tells you one of the many things his guardians don't know about what he gets up to.
You take the rope and the chunk
frayed rope: Taken.
largish chunk of amphora: Taken.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
a largish chunk of amphora
a frayed rope
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You look at the 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.
Go south
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.
You examine the food
If you had any doubts about the divine nature of the mysteries, this sm��rg��sbord 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).
You take the cup
Taken.
You take the toothpick
You pluck a toothpick from the pile.
You examine the pot
A nice little pot of pepper, in case you think you're a better-seasoned seasoner than the cooks.
You eat it
You take a pinch and sniff -- ooh, now that's peppery!

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).
You smell the pepper
You take a pinch and sniff -- ooh, now that's peppery!

You've got a little tickle in your nose.
You sneeze
You have a feeling that if you just wait a moment, that will take care of itself.

This definitely feels like a sneeze coming on.
You wait a while
Time passes.

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.

"Ah-CHOO!" Your sneeze sounds like a goose's honk.
You examine the cake
These cakes are dripping with honey, and have more tiers than the Theater of Dionysus.
You examine the drinks
Several large urns of wine, with convenient bowls set out to facilitate sanitary libation.
You drink the wine
Now that's the stuff -- and it seems to have washed out the tickle in your throat, too!
You talk to Alky
To converse with characters, you can ASK them ABOUT something.
You look at the people
These fellows are much too intent on their stomachs to bother with you.
You look at the couch
The couches themselves are rather quotidian, but some of the jewels of Attic society are sprawled recumbent across their cushions -- under other circs, you'd be star-struck to be sharing air with Corky Timogenes!
You examine corky
Everyone here seems rather focused on moving delicacies from table to tummy as efficiently as possible.
You take the pepper
You take a pinch and sniff -- ooh, now that's peppery!

Shooting you a sly smile, Alky tells you one of the many things his guardians don't know about what he gets up to.
You go north
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 go to the north
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.

You emit a small "hic" -- that wine must have gone to your head!
You look at the 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.
You examine 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.
You examine the 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.
Go east
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 ask puffy about the ritual
"Let's get cracking," Puffy says, rubbing his hands together.

You hiccup again.

"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.
You say blooey
(to Puffy)
You need to wait a moment for Puffy to say it first.

Puffy says "blooey," not without a sour glare at Machon, and looks at you expectantly.
You 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."
You wait
Time passes.

You hiccup again.

"Who bore a great son?" Puffy intones in your general direction.
You 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 looks at you, hopeful yet wary.
Go west
"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.

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 go south
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.

You hiccup again.
You go to the north
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.

There's that tickle again.
Go east
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.
Yes
Puffy leads you into the Telesterion and into the stage area.

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.

This definitely feels like a sneeze coming on.

You hiccup again.

"Remember, just repeat everything I say," Puffy says. You can do that!
You wait awhile
Time passes.

"Ah-CHOO!" Your sneeze sounds like a lamb's bleat.

Puffy says "blooey," not without a sour glare at Machon, and looks at you expectantly.
You 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.
You say mighty Potnia
(to Puffy)
You need to wait a moment for Puffy to give you the prompt.

There's that tickle again.

You hiccup again.

"Who bore a great son?" Puffy intones in your general direction.
You say might potnia
(to Puffy)
There is no reply.

This definitely feels like a sneeze coming on.

"Great son?" Puffy asks again. Frankly at this point you'd call this son something other than great.
You 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."
You ask puffy about the ritual
"Yes, let's get on with it," says Puffy, sniffing in what's either irritation or a coming head-cold. "Where was I..."

You hiccup again.

"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."
You wait a while
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.
Wait
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.
Wait
Time passes.

"Ah-CHOO!" Your sneeze sounds like a goose's honk.

You hiccup again.

Puffy looks at you, horrified. "We need silence! Talk to me when you're ready to try again."
Go west
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.
Go south
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.

There's that tickle again.
You drink the wine
Now that's the stuff -- and it seems to have washed out the tickle in your throat, too!

You hiccup again.
Yes
Puffy leads you into the Telesterion and into the stage area.

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.
Wait
Time passes.

You hiccup again.

Puffy looks at you, horrified. "We need silence! Talk to me when you're ready to try again."
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.
You wait a while
Time passes.

Puffy takes out a knife -- your knife! -- from his sleeve, and slowly tests its point on his finger.
You wait for a while
Time passes.

Now Puffy moves to the platter, and takes the pennyroyal and the ear of barley you found earlier.
You wait for a while
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.
Wait
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.
You ask puffy about the 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?"
Dance
You give a spin, follow up with a leap, and finish with a high-kick, spirit-fingering all the while.

The crowd ribs each other at your antics.
Dance
You give a caper, follow up with a shuffle, and finish with a lunge, head-bobbing all the while.

The crowd ribs each other at your antics.
Sing
You belt out this cracking ditty you heard at last month's symposium -- "hop lightly, hoplite!"

The crowd ribs each other at your antics.
Act
This crowd doesn't seem like they want drama -- something more in the tomfoolery line would be the ticket.

You shuffle your feet a bit, and the crowd, mistaking that for dancing, gives you a smattering of applause.

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."
You go north
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.
You wear clothes
(first taking the clothes)
None of them are a stitch on your chiton.
You wear the cothurni
(first taking the set of cothurni)
Taken.

You pull on the boots, tottering a little as you adjust to the high soles.

Your current ensemble looks a little silly.
You wear tam
(first taking the silly floppy tam)
Taken.

The bright, floppy, be-belled tam settles upon your brow as though you were born to it.

Your outfit is fairly ridiculous, but perhaps you've not quite attained the acme of silliness.
You examine 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.
You wear boa
(first taking the feather boa)
Taken.

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.
Yes
Puffy leads you into the Telesterion and into the stage area.

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 -- "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 spin, follow up with a leap, and finish with a knee-slide, spirit-fingering all the while.

There are real guffaws in the crowd -- this is the stuff!
Act
This crowd doesn't seem like they want drama -- something more in the tomfoolery line would be the ticket.

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 -- "hop lightly, hoplite!"

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 split, and finish with a high-kick, head-bobbing all the while.

There are real guffaws in the crowd -- this is the stuff!

Despite your best efforts, boredom has overtaken the crowd once again. "Best give it a breather," Puffy advises, "come back when you've fine-tuned your act and your persona. And try to look the part!"
Joke
You clear your throat slightly. "Who do actors never want to see in the theater? Boo-eatians."
You ask Puffy about ritural
Puffy 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.
You ask puffy about the ritual
Puffy blinks at you, perhaps taken aback by your rather outlandish getup.

"Yes, let's get on with it," says Puffy, sniffing in what's either irritation or a coming head-cold. "Where was I..."

"Alright, let's have some more comedy," Puffy says, his lowered expectations written across his face.
Joke
You clear your throat slightly. "Why are Minoans good at keeping secrets? They're very dis-Crete."

There are real guffaws in the crowd -- this is the stuff!
Continue
You clear your throat slightly. "Who's the Athenian lady who lives on the tallest spot in Athens? Thea Kropolis."

There are real guffaws in the crowd -- this is the stuff!
You keep going
You clear your throat slightly. "Apologies if you don't like puns, but it's Sparta the act."

You get a few scattered laughs, but you detect a note of restlessness in the crowd -- might be time to change things up!
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 -- "hop lightly, hoplite!"

There are real guffaws in the crowd -- this is the stuff!

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."
You wait for a while
Time passes.
You meditate
Your prayer starts out strong, but as you get to a particularly dull bit reciting the list of which birds give good omens, 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.
You wear the toothpick
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.
You meditate
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!
You wake machon
You rouse Macon with a gentle shake. He smiles his thanks, then emits a small yawn.
You meditate
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.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a feather boa (being worn)
a silly floppy tam (being worn)
a set of cothurni (being worn)
a toothpick (currently propping open your left eye)
a cup
a largish chunk of amphora
a frayed rope
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You sit on the chunk
Your cousin's never been especially good at doing what others ask, and this probably isn't the evening that changes.
Besides, he's sleeping now, which adds an extra element of
challenge.
DROP HAT, SHOES, BOA
silly floppy tam: (first taking the silly floppy tam off)
The tam jingles as you sweep it off the pate.

Dropped.
shoe bench: The shoe bench is already here.
feather boa: (first taking the feather boa off)
With a tinge of regret, you unclasp the boa from about your hips.

Dropped.
You look at what you're carrying with you
You are carrying:
a set of cothurni (being worn)
a toothpick (currently propping open your left eye)
a cup
a largish chunk of amphora
a frayed rope
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You drop the cothurni
(first taking the set of cothurni off)
You slide the cothurni off, relieved that now only children and the exceptionally short will be able to see your nose-hairs.

Dropped.
You go to the south
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.
You examine the food
If you had any doubts about the divine nature of the mysteries, this sm��rg��sbord 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.
You look at the roast
You run through the admittedly-scanty competition before concluding that yes, this is the most enticing you've ever seen a goat look.
You go east
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.
You look at Machon
Machon is your cousin, with one or two additional removes you've never been able to keep straight. He's something of a gourmand, with a physique to match.
You go south
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.
You take the toothpick
You already have that.
You take the cheese
You make up a plate from the goodies on offer.

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.
Go east
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 give the plate to the cousin
If Machon Ephippus-Ephipus is hungry, he can make up his own plate -- this one's yours!
You examine the plate
A plate of scrummy delights -- ooh, that olive looks good!
Inventory
You are carrying:
a plate of food
a lump of honey cake
a toothpick (currently propping open your left eye)
a cup
a largish chunk of amphora
a frayed rope
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You meditate
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.
Go south
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.
You ask Alky about the snoring
You get a blank look of the sort with which you're well acquainted.

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 ask Alky about the meditation
"That bit is rather a bore. Want some company in your meditations?" Alky asks. "I suppose I could be bothered." He saunters out of the banquet hall, shooting you a come-hither look.
You go east
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.

Alky is sitting next to you, offering a quick elbow to the ribs or an acid witticism whenever you're in danger of nodding off.
You meditate
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.

Alky is sitting next to you, offering a quick elbow to the ribs or an acid witticism whenever you're in danger of nodding off.
You give the toothpick to Machon
Machon, emitting the occasional snore, is insensible to the world about him.

Alky is sitting next to you, offering a quick elbow to the ribs or an acid witticism whenever you're in danger of nodding off.
You wake machon
You rouse Macon with a gentle shake. He smiles his thanks, then emits a small yawn.

Alky is sitting next to you, offering a quick elbow to the ribs or an acid witticism whenever you're in danger of nodding off.
You give the toothpick to Machon
Machon looks dubiously at the toothpick. "That doesn't seem especially pleasant," he squeaks. "I'll stay awake this time, I promise!"

Alky is sitting next to you, offering a quick elbow to the ribs or an acid witticism whenever you're in danger of nodding off.
You wear the toothpick
You're already wearing the toothpick (currently propping open your left eye)!

Alky is sitting next to you, offering a quick elbow to the ribs or an acid witticism whenever you're in danger of nodding off.
You tell Alky about Machon
"He could use some help staying awake, couldn't he?" Alky says, taking up a position near his couch and giving him a friendly prod back to awareness.

Alky is looming over poor Machon, prodding him when he's in danger of slipping into Hypnos' embrace.
You meditate
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.

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.

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.
You look at the pillars
The sanctuary is reasonably big as such things go -- you should know, you've been faffing about in and under it all evening. The portico and steps leading into it do what they can to impress, from the stately pillars to the delicately-painted pediment (or so you assume, your eyesight isn't the best, but Puffy doesn't seem the type of bird to skimp out on the little things). You remember your Great-Uncle once telling you why this sort of jobby is called "hexastyle", but in your somewhat jumbled recollection it had to do either with the number six or with witches, you can't remember which, though probably that's neither here nor there (unless it's witches). Currently, the impression made by the old slab is somewhat undermined by the mob of maniacs milling about and the high priest raving like a loon while dancing around the roof.
You go to the east
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.
You look at the 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).
Go west
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, 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.
You go west
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.
You look at Hippy
Alky's horse, much like her master, is a good-looking animal with questionable self-control. She rears away from the pig, her wide eyes glancing and rolling every which way, like a rampaging Great-Aunt.
You examine the pig
Despite Hippy's dislike, this pig seems all right to you -- he snuffles over to you, tongue lolling out.
You go to the south
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 examine the chariot
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.
You tie the rope to the reins
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.

That's one makeshift rein in, so everything's set so long as Alky only turns left.
You look at the 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.
You examine the axle
Alky's chariot is a sporty little thing, with flashy gilded inlays and a low, sleek profile. Unfortunately, currently the reins hang in tatters from their anchoring ring, somewhat limiting the chariot's top speed. The chariot also currently violates the fairly strict requirement that chariots have at least two wheels.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a wheel
a plate of food
a lump of honey cake
a toothpick
a cup
a largish chunk of amphora
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You drop the wheel
Dropped.
You go north
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, 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.
Go east
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.
You ask Machon about Alky
"Sounds like one of your fancy friends," Machon says.
You go east
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.
Pet pig
He seems to like that!
Ride pig
It would be beneath the pig's dignity to carry you around.
You go to the east
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, 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.
You go to the east
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.
Go east
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.
You examine 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.
You examine the 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.
Go north
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.
You examine pillars
A row of pillars runs down the length of the sanctuary, so regimented and regular that you wonder how the architect made it through the project without nodding off. From this angle you can make out enough of the roof to confirm that Puffy has yet to see reason and come down.
Go upward
You lay a preliminary hand on a low branch, but recoil when the buzzing of the bees rises to a menacing key.
You examine the bees
This hive's sporting one of your bigger dents, as though it ran afoul of a particularly uncoordinated bear; honey oozes about the hole. Unsurprisingly given the threat to hearth and home, it's positively popping with bees, who are crawling about in patterns so complicated it makes your brain hurt to try to follow them. You feel bad for the blighters, since you've always liked bees -- your Great-Uncle took up apiculture a few years back, in point of fact, so you've got a bit of a family connection.
You put the cake in the hive
They've already got rather a lot of honey stored up in their hive.
You show the cake to the bees
Works better when you try that on a person (or at least an animal), in your experience.
You go upward
You haul yourself up the tree and thence to the roof, not without some difficulty.

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.

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.
You look at herm
Herms are little monuments sacred to Hermes -- the tell is in the name, most people don't know that -- which line the Sacred Way to Eleusis, helping protect it and fend off evil spirits and all that sort of thing. There's a rather ho-hum bust of Hermes atop a stone pillar, and an anything-but-ho-hum central attribute midway down that typically makes things awkward when it comes up in conversation with, say, one's Great-Aunt. The unmentionable is rather the worse for wear.
You examine the honeycomb
This chunk of honeycomb has suffered more than its share of bludgeoning, and there are still a few bees buzzing desultorily about, but it remains sticky and delicious.
You give the honeycomb to the pig
pig might enjoy the honeycomb, but then, you might enjoy it too.
You put the honeycomb on the pig
That would just make a sticky mess.
You eat the honeycomb
You bring the honeycomb near your mouth for a nibble, but the upset buzzing of the bees still inside it puts you off.
Smoke honeycomb
What do you want to smoke the honeycomb with?
Go south
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.
You put the honeycomb on the wheel
You squeeze a generous helping of honey onto the wheel, making the wood on either side of the gap quite sticky. This turns the comb into a mashed lump of honey, wax, and deeply miffed honeybees, so you dispose of it posthaste (and lick your fingers clean best as you can).
You examine the gap
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.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a lump of honey cake
a toothpick
a cup
a largish chunk of amphora
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You put the cake in the gap
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).
You look at the worktable
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.
You examine the jumble
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.
Saw table
(with the saw)
You're not sure that would appreciate a trim.
You go to the west
You're certainly tempted to slink back to Athens, but you'd feel guilty leaving all this chaos behind you -- especially since the uncharitable might consider that you played a very minor role in bringing things to this point. Besides, it'd be a long walk!
Go east
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.
You go north
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.
You examine the tree
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.
You examine the buds
Hard and bud-like, these olives will eventually be delicious, but there's a long way to go yet.
You take the buds
Your plans for the evening would be slightly crimped by the severe digestive distress these olive buds would occasion.
You take the bough
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.
You go south
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.
Saw bough
(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.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
a springy green branch
a toothpick
a cup
a largish chunk of amphora
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You look at the branch
This one particular branch, a bit less than arm-length, seems especially springy and flexible.
You put the branch on the wheel
You think you're onto something, but it's hard to fit the branch onto the wheel since the latter is wobbling about quite a lot on the uneven floor.
You drop the chunk
Dropped.
You put the wheel on the chunk
(first taking the wheel)
Putting things on the largish chunk of amphora would achieve nothing.
You put the wheel on the chariot
The wheel is still hors de combat, so replacing it would be premature.
You put the wheel on the worktable
You put the wheel on the worktable.
You put the branch on the 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.
You put the wheel on the 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.
You examine the 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.
You hit the pig
Violence is against the code, old man.
Go east
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.
You ask Machon about the pig
"You know, I had a pig once," Machon says. "As a pet, I mean."
Go south
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.
You take the food
You make up a plate from the goodies on offer.
You go to the west
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.
You ask Alky about the pig
"Looks as though he likes his grub almost as you do," Alky says approvingly.
You ask Alky about Puffy
"Yes, well done," says Alky, glancing towards Puffy's slumbering form. "Now he's once again the boring Puffy we all know and love."
You look at puffy
Puffy, poor lamb, is nestled against the pillar like it's the softest sleeping-couch he's found.
You look at 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 managed to grab his lyre in the confusion, and tucked it under his arm.
You ask Alky about the lyre
"It's only my third best," Alky says, as though in apology.
You go west
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.
You examine wall
This waist-high stone wall puts you in mind of all the times your Great-Aunt made you carry rocks for her estate's mason when she thought you weren't sticking to your studies. It's rather less than impregnable (the wall you mean, not your Great-Aunt), what with the large gap where the Sacred Way begins.
Go east
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.
You go west
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.

You can also see a lump of honey cake here.
You put the pepper on the cake
(the lump of honey cake)
Before you meddle with the divine perfection of this food, you figure you'd best take a sniff to make sure you gauge the spiciness right.
You sniff the cake
(the lump of honey cake)
Delectable!
You put the pepper on the cake
(the lump of honey cake)
No, that pepper is too peppery -- you shan't risk it.
You put the pepper on food
(the plate of food)
No, that pepper is too peppery -- you shan't risk it.
You put the kykeon on the food
(first taking the spilled kykeon)
Oh good heavens no.
You take the wine
Now that's the stuff!
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a plate of food
a lump of honey cake
a toothpick
a cup
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You examine the cup
It's not much to look at, but you're more concerned with what's in it: sadly, currently it's empty, so you're just back to it being not much to look at.
You put the wine in the cup
You fill the cup brim-full with wine.
You search puffy
Puffy has more than earned some peaceful repose.
You examine the statue
Herms are little monuments sacred to Hermes -- the tell is in the name, most people don't know that -- which line the Sacred Way to Eleusis, helping protect it and fend off evil spirits and all that sort of thing. There's a rather ho-hum bust of Hermes atop a stone pillar, and an anything-but-ho-hum central attribute midway down that typically makes things awkward when it comes up in conversation with, say, one's Great-Aunt. The unmentionable is rather the worse for wear.
Go east
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.

You can also see a plate of food here.
You take the food
Taken.
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.
Keep going
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.
Pet pig
He seems to like that!
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
a plate of food
a toothpick
a cup
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You throw the food 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.
Go east
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.
You take the cheese
You've already made up a plate.
Go west
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).
You throw the food 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.
Go east
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.

You can also see a lump of honey cake here.
You throw cake west
You heave the lump of cake like a shotput, sending it arcing 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 horse
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.
You tell Alky about the horse
"Looks like she's got the collywobbles," says Alky, turning over some ideas for what might help. "Maybe give her a pat? Couldn't hurt, unless she bites."
Go west
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).
Search horse
Alky's horse, much like her master, is a good-looking animal with questionable self-control. Her wide eyes are glancing and rolling every which way, like a rampaging Great-Aunt.
You fill the cup with the water
You fill the cup brim-full with water.
You go to the west
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.
Go west
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).
You go to the east
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.
You tell Alky about Hippy
"Looks like she's got the collywobbles," says Alky, turning over some ideas for what might help. "You haven't seen her blinders, have you? Those sometimes calm her down."
You go north
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.
Go north
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.

You can see a set of cothurni, a feather boa, and a silly floppy tam here.
You examine the hat
This wooden number sports a profusion of hats -- among the swarm, some ear warmers and a crown of laurels catch your eye.
You examine the 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!
You put the warmers on Hippy
It takes a bit of prodding, shoving, and scuffling -- there's a bite or two exchanged in both directions -- but once you get the ear warmers on Hippy's head, they block off her view as if they were a pair of blinders. Once she gets over the excitement of the fray, she seems to settle down.

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.
You lead Hippy south
Leading Hippy all about the sanctuary might get her nervous again -- best for her to say put.
You tell Alky about Hippy
"Thanks for calming her down, old bean," Alky says. "Ride back to Athens would have been rather bumpy otherwise."
You tell Alky about the chariot
"That's both of our rides back to Athens," says Alky. "Be a pet and sort it out, would you?"
You tell Alky about Puffy
"Yes, well done," says Alky, glancing towards Puffy's slumbering form. "Now he's once again the boring Puffy we all know and love."
You examine the chain
This is the kind of accessory that lends a high tone to any occasion.
Go west
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, calmly pawing the grass (well, hooving, perhaps).
Go south
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 largish chunk of amphora here.
You put the chain on the 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.
You take the rope
You'd have to untie it first.
You examine the 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. You've got one makeshift rein anchored in place, so everything's set so long as Alky only turns left.
You put boa on the 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.

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.

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.

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."
You 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.

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.
You look at the 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. They're not factory-standard, but you've got two rein-analogues anchored in place.
You pull the reins
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.
You examine the machon's chariot
Machon's trotting along in a chariot pulled by a horse who looks to be as rotund and as good-natured as he is.
You examine puffy
Puffy's knuckles are as white as the stones of his temple as he clutches the edge of Alky's chariot.
You look at Alky
Alky has always been a fiend for speed, and you can see why -- the wind is artfully tousling his hair and he's got quite the roguish, devil-may care aspect going.
You look at Hippy
Hippy is somewhat burdened by carrying three people in a chariot that's intended for two, but she's still managed to work up to a frankly terrifying speed.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a gold chain
a plate of food
a toothpick
a cup
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You tell 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 tell Puffy about the herm
(the sacred-way herms)
As gently as you can, you fill Puffy in on the damage to the other herms -- your idea is to warm him up to it with some broad generalizations about the fickleness of fate and the need to take a philosophical attitude of detachment with respect to the vicissitudes fortune pitches into the gentle stream of our lives from time to time, but he's glaring at you with sufficient force as to make you more tongue-tied than usual so eventually you just lay out that the evening's broken-herm quota has just reached four, rather than one.

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.

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, all suffering more or less from 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.

Your pied-��-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!
Inventory
You are carrying:
six unmentionables
a gold chain
a plate of food
a toothpick
a cup
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You examine the desk
A little writing desk you sometimes use for scribbling off whatever musical or literary ideas you have bouncing around in your noggin. It holds your trusty inkwell, a sheet of paper, and your pan pipes. Your stylus is also right at hand.
You examine the pipes
A small set of pan pipes, with loose leather straps holding the small reeds together.
O unmentionable
You add an unmentionable to the end of the set of pipes, and lash it into place.
You put the unmentionable in the inkwell
You swirl the unmentionable in the inkwell, giving it a dose of the black and tarry.
You look at what you're carrying with you
You are carrying:
an inked unmentionable
four unmentionables
a gold chain
a plate of food
a toothpick
a cup
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You examine the fireplace
This fireplace has a few sad pieces of wood stacked together, with a flint lying on the hearth.
You examine the wood
A teetering stack of charred firewood (you try to reuse things when you can).
You look at the bed
You went all-out on your bed, from the gilded frame to the nice, plump mattress. Now that you think of it, you've woken up with a backache these last few mornings -- though that's the least of your problems at the moment.
You look at the mattress
Your downy mattress has been feeling a bit lumpy of late.
You open it
Oh, hello! Now you see why your nightly dormition has been rather more ache-inducing of late -- somehow your scale model of the Trojan Horse wound up under your mattress.
You put the unmentionable in Horse
Yours is a struggle worthy of Homer's tongue -- perhaps it could be slotted into the Iliad in place of some of the sulking? -- but eventually you are able to cram the unmentionable inside the replica.

"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."
You put the unmentionable in the mattress
You cram an unmentionable under your mattress.
You look at the chest
Your closed clothes-chest.
Open chest
You pop open your chest, and are surprised to find, supernumerary to the typical freight of clothing, two unmentionables rolling around amidst the garments. Machon notices your confusion, and slaps his forehead: "That's right, there were too many of them to carry, so I stowed the extras in your chest. I really apologize!"
You take the unmentionables from the chest
unmentionable: Taken.
unmentionable: Taken.
You examine the clothing
Your man thinks you have too many clothes, but you pay for his services, not his opinions. Admittedly, your togs do make up a rather good pile, but there are still some substantial gaps in your wardrobe -- you've had your eye on this white mess-jacket down at your tailor's....
You look at the window
Your window looks out on a nice, quiet alley.
You look at what you're carrying with you
You are carrying:
four unmentionables
a flint
an inked unmentionable
a gold chain
a plate of food
a toothpick
a cup
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You examine inked
You'd really prefer not to get into details here, but each unmentionable thingy -- that might be a more pleasant nickname, "thingy" -- used to be attached to a herm. Now that it's detached, it's a little less clear what it used to be and a nearsighted or very innocent person might just think it's a small stone cylinder? This one has ink smeared on one end.
You put inked on the shelf
Leaving an unmentionable lying around in the open seems rather the opposite of concealing it, and while there can be a pleasant frisson from contradicting what's expected, you're less enthusiastic about the kind of contradiction that gets you hauled into the law-courts.

Machon suddenly gets a quizzical look on his face. "Say, I think I had one more of those broken bits I forget to give you." Sure enough, he pulls out one more unmentionable and hands it to you. "There you are!"
You look under the bed
You discover an unmentionable! Of course, that's not terribly surprising inasmuch as you hid it there.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
five unmentionables
a flint
an inked unmentionable
a gold chain
a plate of food
a toothpick
a cup
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You examine the thingy
You'd really prefer not to get into details here, but each unmentionable thingy -- that might be a more pleasant nickname, "thingy" -- used to be attached to a herm. Now that it's detached, it's a little less clear what it used to be and a nearsighted or very innocent person might just think it's a small stone cylinder?
You throw the thingy out the 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.

"All right, if that's the way you like it," yells the magistrate.
"Let them have it, boys!" There's a rather loud crash as some uncalled-for force is brought to bear against your door. It's holding for now, but you worry your landlord isn't going to be best pleased with any more damage to the premises.
You put inked in the fireplace
You slide an inked unmentionable into the stack of firewood -- it teeters for a moment, but stays in place.
You put the thingy in the firewood
You slide an unmentionable into the stack of firewood -- it teeters for a moment, but stays in place. Nonetheless, since the wood is quite charred and the pale stone is unblemished, you might say the unmentionable is in the stack but not of it.
You look at the paper
A blank sheet of paper, standing ready in case inspiration strikes.
You look at the floor
Your floor is both unexceptional and unexceptionable.
You examine the walls
There's a patch of wall that will be right behind the door when it opens.
You put the thingy in the patch
You carefully place an unmentionable in the spot right behind where the door will open -- with any luck they'll never notice what they never noticed!

Alky winces as the door absorbs another solid blow. "Say, fellows, you've made your point," he calls. "If you bring your sister, I promise I'll make an honest woman out of her!" Alky flashes you a grin, as this throws them into confusion.

"Is this a fornication? I thought we were here about the herms," you hear a peevish voice ask. There's more hubbub as they try to sort this out.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
two unmentionables
a flint
a gold chain
a plate of food
a toothpick
a cup
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You put the thingy in the clothes
You slip an unmentionable into the stack.
Close chest
You close the chest.
You put the thingy under the mattress
You're willing to make some sacrifices, but a second unmentionable would compromise your night-time comfort too thoroughly to contemplate.

The blokes outside have stopped pummeling your door, as Alky's stratagem has left them flummoxed. But then a clear voice cuts across the din: "Wait, was that Alcibiades? The rotter actually did seduce my sister, and I bet he did for the herms, too!" The wronged brother hurls himself against the door again, and the siege resumes.
You look at the shelf
This shelf came with the room, and doesn't get much use. It's currently quite bare.
You put Horse on the shelf
(first taking the Trojan Horse replica)
You put the Trojan Horse replica down on the shelf, making a nice little display.

The blokes outside have stopped pummeling your door, as Alky's stratagem has left them flummoxed. But then a clear voice cuts across the din: "Wait, was that Alcibiades? The rotter actually did seduce my sister, and I bet he did for the herms, too!" The wronged brother hurls himself against the door again, and the siege resumes.
You look at Machon
It's a nice thing that your cousin is rather full-figured, as he's putting his considerable gravitas into keeping the door closed.
You examine puffy
Puffy is doing what he can to hold the door closed, albeit with somewhat less enthusiasm than Alky or Machon.
You examine the door
Alky, Puffy, and Machon are doing their best to keep the door closed under the blows of the magistrate and his flunkies, but it's clearly a losing battle. Beyond the current excitement, there's not much to say about it other than that it opens to the right -- you had to move your writing desk to the other side because you kept knocking your inkwell over when throwing the door open. You've secreted an unmentionable away behind it.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a flint
a gold chain
a plate of food
a toothpick
a cup
a heavily-smoking torch (providing light)
a well-tailored chiton (being worn)
You open the 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?