It is an age before history (or perhaps beyond it). An age in which men struggle against Nature, red in tooth and claw.

You find yourself in the wilderness, naked except for the bit of pelt covering your loins, and the stone knife in your hand. It is midsummer. The weather is fine, not a cloud in sight, and the morning air is invigorating.

You muse on the circumstances which led to your solitude:

>Abandoned: Your people were migrating toward warmer climes and you were injured during the journey. They carried you as far as they could, but once fever set in they left you for dead. You managed to make a miraculous recovery, but your people are now long gone.
>Lost: You got separated from your people during an attack by the hideous scalemen. Most were slaughtered and the others taken captive to a far away place. You managed to escape in one piece.
>Exiled: For your heinous crimes, you were banished and told never to return. You may write-in a crime, if you wish.
>Write-in