You're a pegasus, and you're walking?
You decide to (hehe) hoof it to the temple on the hill. You'd rather not try the whole flying thing, as that can't end well when you've just been turned into a winged flying horse-chick...thingy. To kill time as you walk, you ponder...who would have built a creepy manor full of magical...or perhaps nanotechnological...or just weird costumes. And all those RULES! You have to spend a week in every costume, or something like that, and if you spend more than a thousand ten-day weeks in the world you get pregnant with a polymorph and die or...something like that. Looking back, you really wish you hadn't skimmed the rules.
Your delightful train of thought is quickly interrupted.
You've completely lost track of your surroundings, and as you walked in an introspective daze, you've been surrounded by women in black robes carrying ropes,
nets, halters, bridles, and whips. Yep, you think, This place was definitely built by fetishists. The apparent leader of the group speaks first: "She's a fine beast. Persephone will be most pleased."
Persephone...
Persephone...
Persephone...
Persephone.....you search your databanks for that name.
Let's see...you're in some sort of pseudo Greece. So Persephone must be Greek...AND it hits you! Perseophone was the wife of Hades, king of the underworld, daughter of Demeter...or was it Artemis? Or Ceres? No, Ceres was Roman...or was that Circe. Circe! That reminds you... You've been turned into an anthropomorphic pegasus thing. That snaps you back to reality, or at least the reality you're inhabiting. The leader of the group of women is pulling something out of a satchel...a syringe--horse tranquilizer! Now, something is clearly wrong with this scenario. The temple on the hill is in good condition. The women are wearing ancient Greek outfit. And yet here's a syringe full of tranquilizer, and it's being jabbed into you.
In your delirium, you are restrained and led down the hill to a small shrine. The leader opens the door, and inside you see a creepy dark stairwell. The women lead you down the dark stairs. Dark...slippery...impossibly long stairs. And you've been tranked. You're being led down dark, slippery, long, dark, stairs in a stupor. Long...dark...stairs.
Which are, in addition to being long and dark, are slippery. This is not a metaphor for anything, by the way, you simply have a lot of vertical distance to cover in the downward direction.
You spend what feels like an eternity on the stairs, but eventually, the flight levels off. You're deep underground. There's a faint green light emanating from somewhere. You try to take stock of your surroundings, but the women seem intent on getting you somewhere. Eventually, the forced march ends. When it does, you are...
Written by Zodiac on 27 June 2007