???

Tyson reviewed his last memory. The carnage, the gore. The feeling of betrayal at the unfairness of life. He had died, yet this was some sort of existence. He had been a skeptic, and this was paradigm altering, but he knew nothing of what lay before him. He was blind and the only way to learn more was to go forward. Internally, he decided on Yes and as his intent solidified the prompt disappeared, only for Tyson to be presented with two different questions.

Name: ?

Race: ?

Name? Tyson Johnson. As he thought the answer a new prompt popped up. He was beginning to understand this system of interaction. It seemed to work through thought.

Your True-Name cannot be your Moniker.

True-Name? Moniker? He can’t use his name? The new window overlapped the old one, he didn't like that and wanted it to go away. The new prompt vanished. That was intuitive. Tyson considered the question of name. How about his internet alias? DealerOfSixThousandDeaths. He had been edgy as a kid but never bothered to switch to something more subtle. No one ever chose it because of how edgy it was. Perfect for all sorts of gaming accounts.

Name: Dealer X SixThousandDeaths Confirm?

No, that’s not right or clear. It seemed like a first name last name thing so he could probably just do Six and that would work.

Name: Six Confirm?

Hmmm that's not too bad, thought Tyson. Short and sweet.

Cool. Neat. Yes.

Name: Six

Race: ?

He considered the next prompt. Race? He was mixed race. A new prompt window appeared in his vision.

Mixed race is not available from initial vessel creation, please choose from

Human

Orc

Halfling

Gnome

Dwarve

Elf

...

Tyson was a Human. He willed the list to scroll and it cycled the options. There were hundreds of choices. Maybe thousands. Focusing on an option brought up a description.

Human: Ephemeral. Humans' only predisposition is growth. A flare of flame that burns bright and hot. Humans accumulate growth and power through generational organizations. With luck and determination Humans can achieve levels of individual power comparable to Permanants. Fabled Humans have even overcome Gods. No Racial Abilities.

What? What is even happening? Tyson focused on Elf.

Elf: Permanent. Elves are predisposed to Agility or Wisdom. A wellspring flowing from a near endless reservoir. Elves accumulate growth and power through their connection to their permanence and nature itself. Permanence is a double edged sword, allowing for a slow but inevitable climb. Fabled Elves have even overcome Gods. Racial Ability: Mana Rich. Gain an additional 5 maximum Mana per point of INT and a reduced 5 maximum endurance per point of END.

He went through a few more, they all sounded like they came from a fantasy novel. Except for one choice, a Grey. Tyson was pretty sure that was a typical alien from the description. He knew his choice, he was just exploring what was available. The dread had faded and now he was just curious. Tyson always loved the human heroes with no special powers that could compete with the strongest mutant or alien; his favourite being Batman. There was a part of his mind that screamed at him to slow down and consider the pros and cons of each race, but he operated with the abandon of someone dead.

Tyson picked Human.

Race: Human Confirm?

Tyson willed his confirmation.

Name: Six

Race: Human

With that selection the window disappeared and it was dark again for a few moments. Then, he appeared. Six appeared. Well, his body appeared. A perfect version of himself came flying out of the darkness and into the ambient light of his viewpoint. It slowed abruptly and held itself for Six to examine. It was an exact duplicate of himself. Almost like looking in a mirror. A couple years younger maybe. Just over six feet tall, brown skin and rich curly black locks that fell to his shoulders. Six felt a pang of jealousy. Being a floating nothing was sad. Seeing his body brought a profound sense of loss. He wanted that body, and with that thought the perspective his mind inhabited descended on the form and they became one. Once again Six had form.

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A form that promptly lost consciousness.

Six opened his eyes to the sight of blue skies and green trees. He gasped, an immediate feeling of breathlessness shuddering over him. He tried to retch but nothing came out. He rolled off his back and onto his knees, coughed at the ground a bit, then managed to stop and catch his breath. He shivered at the exertion his body had just performed. He had a body. Six smiled. He was alive. He checked his abdomen, looking for the signs of the crushing he last remembered. He remembered being popped like a tube of yogurt. Yet he looked fine, almost in a bit better shape than he remembered.

He was naked. Naked. He looked about and saw that he was in some sort of forest glade. On the ground next to him was a pile of rope, high quality, double spliced climbing rope, his rope. He pulled himself to his feet and stood. He checked his junk. Yep, everything was where it should be. He felt fine. But… How? He was alive? He felt real enough, but where was this place? Was this heaven? He pinched himself. Ow. That hurt so… not heaven? There was a berry bush right next to him laden heavily with big juicy purple berries.

Six wasn’t stupid enough to try them. He knew some camping tricks and a little bushcraft, but never tried any foraging. The berries looked pretty strange, delicious but strange. Maybe if he was starving he'd risk eating them. He wasn’t hungry but he already could feel how empty his stomach was.

He picked up the rope, it was the rope he had been climbing on when he died, orange with yellow flecks, half an inch thick. He had died, that tree took him, and now he was here. He stared at nothing and contemplated his position and circumstances before clearing his mind to stay calm. He would get back home, back to his family. He looked at the rope in his hand, thought about it for a bit, and then tied a series of knots to create an approximation of a loincloth-toga thing. It wasn’t exactly chilly but the knotted rope provided a little warmth and some modesty.

Now, he needed to find civilization, If it even existed. He had a suspicion that this was a hallucination created in the last moments of his death. Even still, best to treat it as some sort of reality, even if it was a figment of imagination.

Tyson examined this reality. Massive trees surrounded him. At one end of the glade was a sunlit path where the trees were spaced enough apart that the rays trickled in through the rustling leaves above. The other end of the glade seemed to turn into a steep incline of rock. Tyson worked his way along the old growth that lined the overgrown path and it eventually opened out onto a ridgeline that looked down over a vast forest. Tyson was halfway up a fucking mountain. he looked down at his toga-loincloth thing and felt his stomach twist. He was going to freeze to death when the sun set. It looked to be about noon based on the sun’s position. If he moved fast and found some lucky paths, he might hit the base of the mountain by sundown. Even then he doubted he would be able to start a fire without a knife, as his rudimentary bushcraft skills did not include starting a fire with zero tools. Judging by the weather, night was going to be frigid.

He couldn’t stay here.

He checked the sun and set off towards what he assumed was west. He didn’t recognize the topography, but he had only traveled within his province really. His bare feet began to ache immediately but there was no stopping. “You got grit”. He held onto that mantra and put one foot in front of the other. He went as fast as he could and stepped carefully. Given how many unknowns he was facing, he couldn’t afford an injury and needed to be able to be mobile. He also needed to be patient before he hurt himself rushing. Six thought he might be following a makeshift path that was in good repair at one point, but no longer. Broken stairs, thorny patches, and fallen trees marred his way several times, but careful maneuvering managed to keep him safe and progressing steadily. He could hear the creatures of the forest. He saw a few squirrels and rodents. A few birds. They kept their distance. After what he assumed was a couple hours of travel, Six was more confident about his chances of making it to the base of the mountain. The sun was going down, but he gauged he had enough time remaining to make it somewhere he could hide for the night.

Six had a rough target. He was tracing a switchback, back and forth down a long ridge that led down into a pocket of forest. Within that pocket he could see another glade and what appeared to be a mountain fed stream or river of some kind. His goal was to descend down into that pocket and try to find fresh flowing water. If he followed that water downstream, he would surely find civilization. He kept moving.

He was losing light and it felt like he’d been walking for a few hours. The sun was setting and his stomach rumbled. Now Six was hungry. He had been moving for hours and hunger was so great that he began to hallucinate. An icon on his vision appeared. It hovered in his peripherals but he could identify the symbol of a stomach. It reminded him of the darkness, when he was just a viewpoint. He shuddered and remembered that he had died. He also remembered the intuitive nature of the windows. He focused on the Symbol and a prompt filled his vision.

You are STARVED. Your Endurance Regen is now capped at a total of 2000 END per level before death. You can exist in this state for a maximum of two weeks before death. Endurance Regen halved. Consume sustenance to end this status.

What the fuck. Was this a debuff? Was this his purgatory? Was his mind creating a weird power fantasy in its last moments? His heaven? His hell? He looked down at his rope loincloth-toga, he suspected this may be a weird hell. Even still, he had that grit and wouldn’t let this break in reality stop him. He kept stumbling on. He mis-stepped and busted up one foot pretty good on a root, and his toe began to throb and leak blood. Stupid. It hurt badly, but he walked on and eventually the trail leveled out to reveal a wide stream that flowed off from the mountain. Six struggled over to it and dipped his feet in the clear, cold water. The biting cold was hell, but he knew it was better than leaving them swollen and bruised. He wanted to drink from the stream too, but the risk of contracting some sort of stomach bug was too high. He couldn’t afford to die of dehydration from diarrhea. He planned to continue his journey following the water, so if it came down to it he could hydrate. His vision sharpened and he felt a bit more grounded. Everything felt a bit more real.

How he wasn’t bobcat food at this point he didn’t know. This looked like his old home, a northern rainforest. Predator animals were a real thing and he had no way to protect himself. He needed to find people and fast. Get to a road and back to civilization. He could see the click bait: ‘crazy rope wearing man picked up on the side of the highway’. It would be embarrassing- funny, but embarrassing. Still, he was confident someone would help him. Do not tell anyone about the weird digital window visuals. The windows were harmless and he liked his freedom.

His break done, he needed to keep moving. Upstream looked like the river coalesced off several mountain side streams flowing into the larger waterway. The place was amazing, he was kinda surprised there wasn’t a small cabin at the least. After a quick appreciation of his surroundings Six moved down stream.

There was a path of sorts running down the side of the small river. A continuation of the trail most likely, it kinda looked like it may have been even wider at some point. It was only a short time longer before Six saw people for the first time since he died.

They were dressed like medieval mercenaries. Slumped around their camp, shivering and wiping away a constant foaming of the mouth. They looked like they were dying. Four in all. Two were human but one looked like what could only be described as a dwarf and the other an orc. A freaking orc. Six laughed, he must be dreaming. Maybe he stumbled into a very realistic larping hangover session.

One, a human woman in knightly plate armor, her helm off to the side, glanced at him and laughed.

“I know,” Six said, grimacing at his rope loin-toga. “But you gotta make do with what you got.”

She spoke in a strange language that began as meaningless jargon, but slowly became inteligible..

“I don't know what you said but as long as I'm not hallucinating,” she said, her voice in control but held in a slight quiver.

A prompt presented itself-

Knowledge gained: Knowledge: Imperial Zleenish (Mortal)

He could understand them and he wrestled with that realization but a moan from one of them focused him. “I thought I was the one who was going to need help, but it looks like you guys might need it more. Anything I can do? I can go get more people, but I’d need some food and water… and shoes,” Six rambled a bit, trying to draw attention away from his strange dress.

“There is no more time to get help, our death is imminent. Take our food and even all of our gear, but please, you must get to the Prancing Stallion inn in the city of Olisrosa. Tell the settler caravan of our passing and that the expedition is off. You only have minutes to end our lives. Can you do this?” The woman finished with a resolute nod.

Six had one word. “What?”