Hadespera
The 1st of Elaphebolion
The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals
Inside the Void was a beautiful nothing. A negative space. A place between places, a thing without things. It was Khaos and Kosmos, but above all it was empty. On occasion, some traveler would find their way through the Void and it would stir, rippling outward from their incursion, but before long the intruder would leave and the Void would be empty once more. Slumbering in a place outside time, far from the concerns of mortals and immortals alike.
One such incursion was different than the rest, however. It pulled at the Void, tore a sliver in it and passed through. The ripples through the nothing spread far, farther than ever before, and something at the heart of the Void stirred in response.
Change was coming.
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He was born.
Born into a world of darkness, but not one without feeling. Cold stone stung his unclad feet, harsh ridges poked into the soft fascia of his soles while a bitter wind raised gooseflesh on his arms and bit into his ears like a starving hound in search of a fresh meal. He wrapped his arms about himself. His teeth clacked together as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Something appeared in front of him, making him flinch as his heart started beating against his ribs. It was the only visible thing in a world of swirling, biting darkness.
A rectangle bearing script hung in the center of his view. Even as he turned his head, it stayed stubbornly within his sight, refusing to vanish or even shift. Inside the rectangle were words. He recognized them as such and, though he had never seen the script, he had no trouble reading them.
Welcome, new spirit.
You have entered the world of Tartarus.
Your choices will define you.
Your actions will become you.
Your wit will keep you from the hordes of the Fallen.
Go forth and survive!
He didn’t know what to make of that. By its phrasing it could have been advice, a warning, or a threat. Very likely it was some combination of all three. After he had finished reading it, the message blinked out of his vision, only to be replaced by another message.
Choose your Name:
_______________
His name? Well, at least that part was easy. His name was…
Uh oh.
His name was a formless sound reverberating off his lips and back down his throat, lost to the interminable void as nebulous as the one he found himself in. He was nameless, no sense of identity, no blueprint, and was startlingly aware of his newfound consciousness. He had no idea who he was or who he should be, or if he should even be anyone at all. If there was a purpose, a reason for his existence, he had no insight.
The message proclaimed the world as Tartarus. The word caused a slight pull inside his mind as though it was a shifting box placed precariously upon a shelf, ready at any moment to tip over and spill its contents. When he tried to draw on that feeling, it slipped away from him, the proverbial box settling into position back on the shelf, far out of his reach. It didn’t help him with the problem at hand and the rectangle in front of him was still demanding an answer.
“Can I answer that later?” He clapped both hands over his mouth.
The words had felt strange, new. The act of speaking was familiar, but the words came out like they had never been formed before. He knew how to speak, knew what the words meant, but the sounds his voice made were different. The spoken words were completely foreign to him, like a dialect he’d never encountered of a language he didn’t know, but he still knew their meaning. Stranger still, he knew that he had spoken actual words. The sounds had been articulate, precise. Definite words, not garbled nonsense like that of an infant learning to vocalize. The distinction served little to reassure him as he still felt, in that moment, very much like a child, new to the world and incredibly uncertain.
It occurred to him that he might be a child. It also occurred to him that it was strange he knew what a child was.
The box of words before him disappeared, unfilled, and he noticed a small, slowly blinking marker in the corner of his vision. To view it, he had to unfocus his eyes and concentrate, which brought it to the forefront of his vision and the message box reappeared.
Mentally, he willed for the message to disappear again and it faded back to the translucent, slowly blinking box in the corner of his view. Once it disappeared, he was left with a new rectangle that populated his vision.
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**UNDECIDED**
Level: 1
Experience to Next Level: 100 (0%)
Race: Human
Age: 27
Height: 183 centimeters
Weight: 77 kilograms
Profession: N/A
Trade: N/A
Traits: N/A
Companions: N/A
Adventuring Party: N/A
Health: 200 / 200
100%
Stamina: 150 / 150
100%
Mana: 100 / 100
100%
Strength: 10
Dexterity: 10
Agility: 10
Fortitude: 10
Endurance: 10
Intelligence: 10
Wisdom: 10
Willpower: 10
Perception: 10
Charisma: 10
Comeliness: 1
Luck: 10
He could only assume this was some sort of profile of himself. It seemed he had been assigned attributes—physical, mental, and others—that had been further quantified down to simple numbers. Twelve sets of numbers seemed hardly capable of encompassing the entirety of a person, but it was as good a place to start as any.
He didn’t really know what would encompass the entirety of a person. He did, however, learn some new things about himself. He was apparently twenty-seven, which was not a child. Probably. He was also just over one-hundred-eighty centimeters and weighed nearly eighty kilograms. The only problem being that he had no idea what those units meant.
All of his attributes had started out at ten, which was probably the baseline. Comeliness, however, had started out at a measly one, which he felt was rather unfair. Would a low Comeliness make him ugly or would it make his personality repellant? How was his Comeliness different from his Charisma, which seemed on par with everything else? He had no answers and those were not the only attributes he had questions about, but staring at them wasn’t going to allow him any more insight.
With a thought, he closed the menu. In what was beginning to feel like a never-ending sequence of events, a third message box opened itself into his vision.
Inventory
He was met with ten blank squares. Additionally, there was a silhouette of a person, mostly greyed out with the exception of the shirt and the trousers. He focused his attention on them and was met by two more messages.
Cloth Shirt
Rarity: Common
Quality: Crude
Defense: 0
Durability: 3/3
Weight: 0.2 kilograms
Comfort: Abrasive
Cloth Pants
Rarity: Common
Quality: Crude
Defense: 0
Durability: 3/3
Weight: 0.5 kilograms
Comfort: Abrasive
That explained the itchiness he felt. The stiff fabric resisted him as he moved, brushing against his skin. New clothes would have to be a priority. The zeroes next to ‘Defense’ gave him pause. What kind of place was this if simple clothes came with an armor rating? It also appeared he had space to store ten things, somehow. First, he had to find something to store. As it was, with the exception of the floating boxes, he was alone in the dark. He minimized the inventory and was met by yet another message.
Initializing…
Ready for transport.
3…
2…
1…
Welcome to Tartarus.