Wrath of the Gods Page #30

---

constituted a serious impediment to navigation.

Odysseus had decided to risk it because the alternative was

worse—the Wandering Rocks, which smashed together upon

any ship that tried to shoot the gap between them. It should

145

be pointed out that these weren’t the same as the Clashing

Rocks, which were braved by Jason and the Argonauts as

they sailed to Colchis (KOL-kis), land of the Golden Fleece. To

compound the confusion, Jason and crew encountered the

Clashing Rocks on their way to Colchis and the Wandering

Rocks on their return. The Nereids (NEE-ree-ids), daughters of

the Old Man of the Sea, guided them through safely on the

latter occasion.

Odysseus had been warned about the whirlpool by Circe

(SUR-see), and he told his men to steer clear, keeping up

against the base of the cliff opposite. What he didn’t tell

the men was that the cliff harbored the dreaded Scylla (SILuh).

Scylla had started out as a beautiful maiden but had

ended up a monster with six heads and an equal number of

slavering maws.

Odysseus had been instructed to put up no resistance but

felt honor-bound to don his armor and brandish his sword—

for all the good it did him. Scylla promptly snatched up

and gobbled six sailors simultaneously while their captain

looked on in an agony of frustration. There was nothing for

it but to row harder—to have changed course would have

meant the whirlpool.

And so before you grab some oars and go boating westerly,

beware if your course should take you ‘twixt the devil and

the deep blue sea.

You come upon a rowboat on a beach, but you’ll need the

oars from the Warehouse (page 22) to operate this watercraft.

Island

BEACH. When, in the course of their return from the Trojan

War, Odysseus (oh-DISS-ee-us) and his shipmates put in at

a beautiful but slightly spooky island, it was imperative

that someone go out and scout for provisions. Odysseus

himself had led the shore party on a recent landfall and been

imprisoned and almost eaten by a Cyclops (SYE-klops) for his

pains. So this time he put someone else in command and

sent him out with half the crew. The rest stayed in camp and

alternately worried about the scouts and thanked their lucky

stars that they hadn’t been picked.

146

Their worries were justified. The explorers had come

upon a snug little house in a clearing, where a beautiful

woman invited them in for tea. They’d already observed

that the yard was full of lions and wolves of a surprisingly

docile nature, but they chose to overlook this portent

that something might be amiss. All but one of the sailors

accepted the invitation and went inside. Whereupon their

hostess, who turned out to be an enchantress by the name of

Circe (SUR-see), turned them into swine.

The one crew member who hadn’t shared this fate reported

back to Odysseus, who must have thought a grouchy

thought or two about the responsibilities of captaincy before

he set out to see what he could do for his men—or, rather,

pigs. When he was approaching the house, he happened

to run into the god Hermes (HUR-meez). Or perhaps it was

something more than happenstance. Those of the Olympians

who weren’t trying to make Odysseus’s life miserable were

bent on helping him, and they’d sent their herald with a

timely bit of aid. This was in the form of a sprig of moly

(MOH-lee), a magical sort of plant which, Hermes assured

Odysseus, would counteract the witch’s spells.

Sure enough, Circe had no sooner said hello to her latest

visitor and raised her magic wand to turn him forthwith

into a porker than Odysseus drew his sword as Hermes had

instructed him to do. And holding the moly to his nose like

smelling salts, he said: “Drop that thing right now or your

wand-waving days are over!” (Or words to that effect.)

Circe was so taken aback that she not only spared Odysseus

her spells but restored all his men to human form. She and

147

Odysseus became great friends. The hero stayed with her for

many a day, and when at last he set out again Circe gave him

essential advice about the perils ahead.

Your rowboat has landed on a beach bordering a swampy

lagoon where there are reeds growing up through the muck.

You pick up a handful of reeds and one of them pings into

your inventory. There is also some string cast up on the

shore near your feet, so you acquire that too.

Argus

FORTRESS ARCHWAY. Argus (AR-gus) was a hero from

Arcadia (ar-KAY-dee-uh). He is sometimes called Argus All-

Seeing to differentiate him from others named Argus (such

as the builder of Jason’s ship). Argus “All-Seeing” got his

nickname from his unorthodox number of eyes. In a classical

case of mythological inconsistency, some say he had four

eyes—two in the standard placement and two in the back of

his head—while others claim he had up to a hundred eyes

all over his body. This excess ocular equipment made Argus

an excellent watchman, a talent which the goddess Hera

(HEE-ruh) used to good effect in the case of Io (EYE-oh). Io was

a young priestess with whom Hera’s husband Zeus (ZOOS)

had fallen in love. Needless to say, Hera was jealous and

angry, so she changed Io into a cow. Or maybe Zeus himself

brought about the transformation to hide the object of his

passion from Hera. In any case, once Io had become a heifer,

Hera asked Argus to so-to-speak keep an eye on her and let

Hera know if Zeus came near. Argus was able to perform

this watch around the clock since he could always keep a lid

148

or two peeled while the rest caught a little shut-eye.

But Zeus told Hermes (HUR-meez), god of thieves, to snatch

Io away, and Hermes resorted to a clever ruse. Disguising

himself as a shepherd, he bored Argus with long-winded

stories, beguiled him with song, and eventually lulled him

to sleep by playing tunes on a shepherd’s pipe, recently

invented by Pan. Or so, at least, goes one version of the tale.

In another, Hermes killed Argus with the cast of a stone.

Your way is blocked by a giant with eyes all over his body.

ARGUS:

Hold it right there! I am Argus the All-Seeing,

and I’ve been set to guard this passage. No one

gets by me.

You try to click your way around Argus, but he keeps

blocking you.

ARGUS:

Oh no you don’t!

If you poke him with the sword:

ARGUS:

Your puny weapons have no effect on me.

If you give Argus the wine from the Taverna (page 62) or the

Market (page 112), he simply guzzles it down. If you flash

him the eye chart from the Market, he frantically moves his

hands around trying to cover his many eyes. Instead you

need to lull him to sleep with the pipes that you took from

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes