I was exhausted. I had only been rowing for a few hours, but it felt like weeks. I was stronger than I had ever been. Not so much as I could lift a large man off the ground with one hand but a large cat or a medium-sized dog. That I would put money.

A bowl was placed in my lap, and a chunk of meat floated in a stew. Not that factory-made meat; I think this thing had been alive at one point. Next was grog and grog and promises.

"Your chains are for your protection. When you leave this ship in the morning, they will be removed, and you will be free," The Wolfman told us.

But we were all too exhausted to really move or leave that night. I passed out after a while. I woke a few times in the night, and each time the Wolfman was watching, he was still standing with arms crossed in the morning. The ship, however, was in full swing, and we were all ushered to the top deck on which several parcels had been stacked, and our Wolfman overseer was standing by them.

"All of you stand in a line started here before me." The Wolfman commanded.

OK, I had a quick think about where and what is happening. I both wanted off this boat and not. I had not shaped and defined my future life. I had not organised wealth and privilege. I had died and not gone to the great beyond. Or had I? Was this my afterlife? I resolved to screw my courage to the sticking place. For there to be a new King, another King is going to have an awful day.

I wanted off now and pushed to the front of the line. The other sailor had rowed for weeks, quickly and without effort, pushed, shoved, and delivered only one punch. Not a hard punch, just enough of a gut jab to trigger a message.

'You have taken combat damage. Value of damage less than 1% of total pool, damage negated'.

And here I am at the end of the line. I needed to think more clearly if the truth was to be told. Last night, grog was more potent than I was used to, and I had not eaten yet. I suddenly wondered if this was a new world for me. I had never had any grog in the first place, and the grog I had had was the first grog I had ever had. Oh, am I one of them? The people who get to a new place, a new world, and complain about how different it is here and it was better before.

My mind was all over the place; the transfer had not gone well. I felt vaguely sick. "Who are you? You're the data guy; get the data" I thought.

"One pair of shoes moccasin style; One pair of pants wool; one shirt wool; one belt rope; one bag and one king's gold. This is the payment for crewing this vessel, and the crew of the Queen Lament offer you thanks. Now, get off the ship and on your way. In a week, we will be signing on for the return trip. Come back then if you want a crew berth or drink your fill to be press-ganged. Again," Finished the Wolfman, handing a parcel to each person as they approached. They were then hurried down a gangplank by one of the other crew that had come from behind as our Wolfman spoke.

My turn. The parcel was shoved into my hands, and I was pushed to the gangway. As I walked down, I noticed my clothes were tattered, and my shirt barely hung onto me. The pants I was wearing were torn, and my junk was flopping in and out a hole in the seam every few steps. Just berries. The other thing I noted was it was hot in high thirties Celsius. At the bottom of the gangway, I stopped before stepping off. I lifted my head to see what was happening dockside, but I was not permitted this luxury. The person behind me shoved me, and my foot hit the dock. The world changed colour. All I could see was a swirling white mist.

Oh, fucking great, I have been killed again. In my vision, a notice was popped into my view with an auditable bing.

"Welcome to the Triple State Nation and the port city of Trastamara. Who are you?"

Excellent, I thought character builds; I understand this. "I am Walter Richardson", I said.

"That name belongs to another. You may no longer be that person." was the response

"What the hell? I am Walter Richardson!" I insisted.

"You are not. Walter Richardson is a merchant in the king's capital." the mist insisted. "Do you want to be Walter Richardson323?"

"OK, a name? What is in a name? How about the theme-compliant random name for the port city of Trastamara?" I said, was I talking to myself or just thinking it?

"Your name is Alvaro." came the response.

"OK. Alvaro. I can get behind that. I am Alvaro." I said.

"What are you?" came the response.

"What are the options?" I asked

"The races of humans; The races of Elves; The races of Wolfman; The races of the Celestials; The races of the Hells; The races of the Reptilian. Continue with more options?" I was told and shown.

"Races of the humans," I said.

"Do you want an ancestral aspect? Your options are Yes or No." the screen provided no other clues.

"Can you provide more detail?" I asked

"No." The screen provided.

"Then Yes," I confirm.

"Your physical characteristics are set to the default values. Augmented by your base profession. Profession is not found. The name selected for the cultural context in combination with race and ancestral aspect of your physical characteristics is set as follows."

Physical appearance: Human variant one meter eighty centre meters. Skin colour brown with hues of gold. Eye colour green left eye blue right eye. Hair colour white. Your attributes are set to Average. Learn and earn get a job like a big brother Gob.

Welcome to the Triple State nation. Your new life starts here. Don't let it end here!