"Nice to meet you, Dakota." He offers his hand and you give it a quick shake. "Let's get going."

He weaves you through branks and underbrush with no more light than the small latern he carries. This new man knows where he's going and after a short jaunt through the underbrush you find yourself on a dirt path. As you walk he's telling you about this odd places you've fallen into. "It's hard to die," he says. "You can always race that demon and you get to come back if you win. But if your body is damaged in some way that's not revivable; beheaded, drawn and quatered, blown up, death is permanent.

"You, we, are a wanted race, believed to be evil, probably because we come back from death and make magic malfuntion. A hundred gold per head and that's more gold than most of these peasants will ever see so everyone has a ear out. Speaking English is the most common way to be found."

"What language do they speak?" you ask. The hooded man shrugs.

"Common?" he hazards. "Don't worry, Lars will teach it to you."

"Lars?" you repeat.

"He's an innkeeper in Canterstross who could always use an extra set of hands around the place. I'll talk to him and get you a job. Then you can learn about this hell hole and keep your head." You stop walking and shake you're head.

"No, I just want to go home. I'm late for work, there's the rent to pay, I supposed to meet Casey tonight..." you ramble. Gray turns to you, his smile gone.

"No one's figured how to leave," he tells you quietly. "You can live for as long as you like, or you can die. Welcome to hell."




CONGRATUALATIONS!

You lived! Keep an eye out for chapter 2 which I'll write eventually. In the mean time go back and find the other ways to live and die.