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What are some Hellenist Pilgrimages?
- Athens (Sacred to Athena, numerous preserved ruins)
- Las Vegas (Some hold this city to be sacred to Hermes)
- New Orleans (Some hold it sacred to Dionysus)
- The Parthenon
- The Theatre of Dionysus Eleuthereus
- The Temple of Dionysus on Naxos
- The Louvre has the Cup of the Ptolemies, as well as numerous statues of various deities.
- Jim Morrison, regarded by some as a prophet of Dionysus, is buried in Pere LeChaise cemetery.
- Lycurgus Cup
- Titian’s Bacchus and Ariadne
- The village of West Wycombe has the Hellfire Caves, with have shrines to Bacchus and Venus, as well as the Wycombe Estate Follies, which have numerous temples.
- Painsville has started to restore the Temple of Bacchus
- Ludovisi Dionysus (Rome)
- Caravaggio’s Bacchus - Uffizi (Florence, Italy)
- Michelangelo’s Bacchus (Florence)
- The Villa of the Mysteries (Pompeii)
- Temple of Bacchus at Baalbek
- The Boston Art Museum has an entire room dedicated to Dionysus
- Aphrodite Shrine in Midian
Part One: Something Wicked This Way Comes
Part Two: Instruments of Darkness
Part Three: Absolute Zero
Part Four: All Sevens
“Don’t strain yourself, Martin; you’re only going to give yourself an aneurysm trying. Let’s go find you somewhere to sit down, okay?” I nod morosely at this, and as we wander into the main entryway, Anthony starts to veer off toward the right side, where more games are blooping in the distance.
“It’s okay, Martin,” he explains. “This is where I’ve been hanging out lately.”
Making our way through the threshold, we come into another room filled with electronics. The ceiling is a lot lower here, though on the far end of the room, it seems to rise a bit to accommodate a stage. Seating lines the perimeter; large, leather seats with just the right amount of squishiness. Strolling over to one, I all but collapse against it with a sigh of relief. My head is still an aching mess, and even with the short walk, I need to take a moment to just catch my breath and close my eyes.
“Good, you… you rest there for a moment Martin,” Anthony says. “I’m going to go to the front desk and see about getting some information. At the very least, I’ll get you squared away with a first aid kit, maybe some sunglasses or something to help with the lights, okay?”
The concern in Anthony’s eyes is clear as he crouches down to talk with me. I try my best to offer a small smile to my gracious patron. It means a lot to have somebody looking out for me, especially in this kind of situation. At the very least, I’m out of the rain. And I’m not gonna lie, the stuff in here looks fantastic as well. Video games as far as the eye can see, servers with trays creaking under the weight of food and drink, and the general bubbling of excited conversation shows that at least some people are having a good time. Anthony pats my shoulder, then is back off through the door we came through. I watch him as long as I can, and then, I’m alone once more.
Well, as alone as I can be inside a sprawling casino, I guess. I don’t even get a minute to gather my thoughts, as transparent as they are, before a woman in a sharp red blazer and skirt comes up to me. She’s even wearing a tiny hat made of the same red material. A bellhop, or something similar?
“Um, yes?” I ask. The smile plastered across her face is unsettling, as if it were daubed in white enamel paint. A whiff of the flowery scent hits me as she definitely encroaches on what most would consider conventional personal space. In her perfectly manicured hand, she extends a lime green card.
"Welcome to the Lotus Casino!" She bubbles. "We hope that you your time with us. Please accept this VIP Card. It's good for all the games in this wing, and for any food or drink you might enjoy!"
"I think you have the wrong person," I say. I awkwardly scoot down the leather seat, but she's right on my tail. "I'm not a VIP, I don’t think. Just a chance visitor with my friends," I add.
That's not enough to daunt her, though. Like a bird following bread crumbs, she bounces after me.
"We don't believe in chance here at The Lotus," she says. She realizes she works at a casino, right? Still, I take a look at the offered card. It has 'The Lotus Casino' in yellow blocky print on the lime green card. Beneath that, in smaller print, reads, 'Platinum VIP Member: Martin Gale'.
"Did Anthony put you up to this?" I ask sharply. Sharply enough that the woman takes a step back, but not enough to break anyone's focus on their games.
"Not sure who that is, sir!" She replies. "I was just told by the front desk that we need to make sure our promotion goes well, and that new guests are to be welcomed! May I show you our newest attraction?"
"I'd rather just-" I begin, but she grabs my hands and pulls me to my feet, cutting off my protests. I note her eyes widen as they linger on my left hand. My eyes are drawn to it as well, and I see a mess of scars. Where did I get these? As if in response, a wave of nausea rumbles through me, and I have to close my eyes to shut out the lights. My headache, ever persistent, throbs miasmically and I take a sharp breath.
Find the pain, and compartmentalise it. Put it in a capsule. You'll feel it later. The thought breaks through my fugue, something sharp in the land of fog. With my eyes closed, I focus on the ache in the back of the skull. I imagine forcing it down, beating it into shape like raw metal, and contain it. Shockingly, it works. At the very least, I can open my eyes again. The attendant looks at me with what seems to be actual worry on her face.
"Are you alright, Mister Gale?"
"... Water, please. And some ibuprofen."
"Right away, sir!" Reinvigorated with a new purpose, the attendant vanishes into the throngs of people and I lose sight of her soon after. Alone again, with only the sounds of dozens of machines chirping and people cheering- Yeah, this isn’t going to do me any favors. Grimacing, I pull myself up to my feet, trying my best to ignore the definite wobble that threatens to overcompensate and send me back to the ground once more. While it’s doubtless better than the Vegas street I woke up on, I’m not really keen on getting a close-up of the casino’s carpets. My balance rights soon enough though, and I’m slowly making my way through the casino.
To say that it looks incredible, that’s an understatement. Even in my sordid state, I feel my eyes drifting over the brightly lit games and machines. The people playing them are certainly engrossed; you’d think that they were watching the World Series or something like that. Even with the ache throbbing in the back of my head, I can’t help but linger, my eyes locking onto the games.
“Hey dude, you want in on a round?” One of the guys at a table calls over to me, waving me toward him. Across from him sits a woman with poorly cut dark hair and a leather jacket, in contrast to his slicked back blonde locks and sweater vest.
“Uh, I don’t think I really-”
“Nonsense, get over here!” The guys stands up and pulls me toward the table. “You must’ve played Mythomagic before, right? We’ve got a round robin going on here, and we need another person to avoid byes. Give it a shot!”
“Dude, I think it’d be better to just take the byes-” I protest, but I’m soon enough muscled into the seat. The entire table is a dark screen, but when the woman touches the screen, it flares into life, with rows of cards slowly scrolling by. My eyes dart to the lower portion of the table, where a hole can be seen.
“So, you click on the cards that you want,” the blonde guy explains. “When you click on them, you can customize the miniature as well, which’ll come out from that hole in the table when you’re done.”
“So, ten minutes for set up? You’ll be on the attack, it’s easier,” the punk woman suggests. “I’ll set up a crypt, and you’ll win if you can find the treasure. The super cool thing is, you can use the treasure in future games. Let’s see…”
Her hand scrawls across the table, sending cards whirring past as a feeling like vertigo grips me. Too fast! Eventually, the cards stop, and she taps one in particular, which grows to fill the screen.
“Here’s a good one! Labrys, The Axe of Hephaestus! Oooh, I’ve got a perfect idea for this…” My headache gives another throb as she explains. I’m left with my thoughts trying to be heard, but she just continues working. The screen turns blank, except for a small portion in front of me where cards slowly rotate through a cycle. The guy who forced me into this seat nudges my shoulder, while the woman plays the tabletop like a piano, her focus on me long since past.
“So, what you’re going to do is pick out five characters,” he explains. “From there, you can pick out a handful of items for them as well; since you’re new, I’ll give you a few recommendations, okay?”
“...Are you sure you just don’t want to do this? I feel kind of like I’m just a proxy here…” I try to get up, but hands are quick to push back down on my shoulders.
“Look, just one game, guy! You lose, you don’t have to play again, okay?” He’s pushy, that much is sure. I look around the room, trying to see past the rows of machines. No sign of Anthony anywhere. I sigh softly. I’ll probably get lost trying to find him, which isn’t a good idea…
“Fine, fine, I’ll play,” I grunt, pulling the guy’s hands off of my shoulders. At the very least, a novice shouldn’t have trouble losing a game like this. I swipe my finger across the tabletop, letting the cards scroll by. Without rhyme or reason, I pick out five of them at random, a mix of man and monster. As the miniatures clatter out of the table, I take a few moments to familiarize myself with the abilities of each character I chose. This is a surprisingly deep system… I think as I glance through each. Much more than I expected at first glance. The characters all synergize reasonably well, too. Even the ones that don’t seem to at first glance seemingly have ways of interacting that I hadn’t thought of until they were before me.
“Welcome challenger, to the Bessemer Pit,” the woman says suddenly, jutting me out of the tactical pool I’ve found myself in. With a tap of the screen, a gridded portion of the table is revealed; dark red stone and slabs of plate metal, each sized appropriately for the token bases.
“Your party has been told of the mighty Axe of Hephaestus known in whispered tones as Labrys; the axe that freed Athena from Zeus’s brow. An ancient soothsayer from the marbled halls of Delphi shared with you, and you alone, hero, that such an- Are you okay?” Her impassioned narration falls into concern as I begin to furiously knead at my forehead. I feel like I can empathize with Zeus in this instance, my headache is shaping up to take on migraine proportions.
“Just- Just keep going,” I wave her on, using my other hand to rub my temples. My prison warden is still behind me, so I doubt I’d be allowed to leave for anything short of my arm falling off. Even then, I think he’d try stapling the arm back on himself before letting me leave the table.
“Er, okay…” She nods, before continuing, “...And you alone hero, that such an artifact is capable of being wielded by one such as you. And so you gathered a group capable of liberating the mighty axe. Midas joined for wealth, the Eurotasian Nymph for love, the Nessian Hellhound under the control of mighty Orion; these are your companions, each chosen for their skills you think will make the difference between success, and failure. But tell us, hero, who are you?”
Well, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it. Despite my best intentions to pay attention to the woman’s introduction, I find myself distracted, distanced from it by the pain in my brow. My fingers stiffly place each miniature on the field when it is mentioned, but when it comes time for the final one, my hand slips and the statuette of my last hero goes clattering across the table. My vision wavers and doubles, causing me to lose focus on the important things… like my consciousness, for example.
“I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I can-” And with that, everything goes dark, and I feel the thud of my head bouncing against the computerized table. At the very least, the encroaching oblivion means that my head won’t be hurting… I hope.
Poor Aethalides… He’ll never get to find the axe…