The year was 2073 and the world was ending. A swarm of asteroids was about to smash into the Earth's crust and annihilate life as humanity understood it yet you would survive, locked in a metal chamber beneath a mountain. The number imprinted on the inside of your wrist still burned and the tubes hooked beneath your skin were a source of discomfort, but at least you were not alone. Through a glass window, you could see others in their chambers settling in for the long haul. One of them smiled at you with eyes full of hope. You smiled back, just as confidently.

The heat in your veins was gradually replaced by an unnatural chill. It was time. When the nanite milk began to flood the chamber, you were not surprised. You just took in your last breath and relaxed as the white gel rose above your chest and flowed into your nose and mouth. There was no need to resist. As the substance covered your eyes and ears, you let go and let the darkness rob you of your consciousness.

That's all you can remember.

Oblivion recedes. The pressure that surrounded your body subsides and you slump unceremoniously against the cold metal of your chamber. Your fingers grope at the cannulas that stick out of you and the clumps of crystallised gel that stick to you, tearing them away as you struggle to find your footing. Pressing your palms against the door of your chamber, you force it open and take your first steps on the Earth reborn.

The primary source of light is a fiery torch held in the hand of a man. A dirty and primitive little man, dressed in leather and sheep wool. His beard is as dark and bushy as his unkempt mane and in his other hand, he clutches a crude stone knife. His beady brown eyes stare at you with a mixture of awe and horror – he seems as shocked by your presence as you are by his. Pointing at you with the trembling tip of his blade, he babbles a few guttural syllables.

You don't understand what he's saying but for some reason, you understand <span class="mu-i">how</span> he is saying it. His tone, his mannerisms, his gesticulations – your brain is somehow able to put them together and determine the barbarian's meaning. The language barrier means nothing to you.

“Be you god or devil?”

>Play the part of a god. Demand his reverence.
>Strike fear into his heart. Watch him run in terror.
>Reason with him. This might be hard without the nuance of language.
>Grab something and strike at the barbarian while he's shaken.
>Run. Find a way past him and get out of there.