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You might be able to understand the barbarian's attempts to communicate, but there is no guarantee that he will understand yours. You decide against exploiting his primitive beliefs and shake your head.
“N-no,” you say in English, the lingua franca of your time. That's the only word you manage to get out before you find yourself overcome with nausea. You double over and begin the unpleasant process of expelling some of the nanite milk that flooded your body. The white substance hardens as soon as it touches the floor, crystallizing into a dizzying fractal structure.
When you look up, the savage is still there, though he has taken a few steps back. He remains wary and bewildered. “No,” you repeat, shaking your head while you grip the door of your cryostasis chamber for support. “I'm neither.”
The ruddy brow of the barbarian furrows and he babbles at you again. Thanks to your peculiar intuition, you are able to rapidly build an understanding of his language, immediately internalising each word that he utters as well as its likely meaning.
“You're no mortal! This tomb's been 'ere long as my tribe and we've been 'ere for lifetimes! 'less it's a prison – it's a prison, ain't it? I've freed you and now you've gotta gimme yer boon!” He waggles the tip of his knife at you insistently. His fear and awe seem to have diminished as his tone becomes more demanding. “Favour for a favour!”
“I am mortal,” you insist right back at him, in his own tongue. Shocked, the primitive takes another step away. You cough out the last remnants of the cryostasis gel before you continue – your grip of the language isn't strong enough to explain your situation, so you settle for a simple question. “A favour?” Though you would like to be more precise and ask more elaborate questions, your inability to communicate has forced you to cede control of the conversation to him.
“Slaves o' the enemy have found my tribe,” he says. The word that you interpret as 'enemy' means something far more complex, but you don't have the context to fully understand it. “They skulk 'bout, always watching, but they'll lead the enemy 'ere to make slaves o' us too! That's why I came 'ere to open the tomb, so that you can save us! Gimme yer boon, awakened one! Save my people from the enemy!”
You haven't even been given the chance to get your bearings and already you're being dragged into post-apocalyptic politics. Fantastic.
>Agree to help him. If it wasn't for him, maybe you'd still be stuck in your chamber. You owe this strange savage, so you'll give him your word.
>Lie to placate him. If it's convenient, maybe you will help out but if it's not, you're not going to risk your life for a post-apocalyptic tribesman.
>Refuse to help. Even though you're stark naked and fresh out of cryostasis, you're not going to be bossed around, especially not by the likes of him.
