You find yourself in a busily-decorated lounge room whose contents flow far beyond the humble cottage into which you stepped. Behind a marble-plated desk in front of you sits what you have to conclude is a satyr — though his oversized golden mane and wispy tail bear greater resemblance to a lion than any kind of goat — in a glistering magenta suit, beaming at you as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.
Sorry, who are you and where am i?
The lion-man jolts out of his seat and reaches out for a stern handshake, which you (begrudgingly) accept. Why, the name’s Vince!, he exclaims in a baritone that nearly sheds the walls of their paint. I think you’ll find that i am the curator of this humble establishment we call the Hoornſche Galerÿ of Arts and Hiſtory. You’re not entirely sure how he did that with his voice, but were you to ask, you worry his response might risk the gallery’s structural integrity.
Is there a café or something? I’m starving.
Why would you need a café when we here at the Hoornſche Galerÿ make use of only the finest in food technology? He swings his arm to point to a cobweb-ridden vending machine in the corner. Wrappers from Opal Fruits and Marathons of days gone by dot the dusty carpet beneath; the only item still in stock is a hefty supply of Bountys. You wouldn’t eat those even if they weren’t thirty years out of date.
Right — which way do i go in, then?
Well, you can go any way you like, my darling, but i’d recommend you start riiight — about — here! His pointer finger slams onto a laminated paper map, its contours made illegible by thousands of past hands tracing the same steps. Our department of ancient arts trades in only the finest of antiquities. Then, you can just go around chronologically until you come right back here. Kapeesh?
Wait, is all this stuff stolen?
Vince’s face freezes, just for a moment, while he tries to come up with an answer that won’t get him in trouble. Wh— ah, you see, it’s— Look, you’ll have to take it up with the legal team, okay? They’re just, ah, down the corridor, to the left. The only corridors you can see lead directly into the gallery. You decline to press the matter further.
…Thanks for the help?
No, no, no… thank you, my dear! Please, enjoy your visit. You’ll certainly try.
Some notes on the making of this page: