Noticing the long, lustrous hair, you look down, fully expecting to see a female avatar. It's no biggy in any event - you've been a virtual woman before and it's just something you either adapt to or can change anyway - but to your surprise you find that you're a man, and a hell of a man at that. The idealized torso of a Greek god greets your eyes - muscles that look to have been carved from marble, bronzed skin that stands out against the whiteness of the snow, an 8-pack, and an artistically tiny penis (dang!). No doubt the computer has placed you in the form of a member of the local pantheon, as per protocol. That would certainly explain how you can be naked in this weather and not already suffering hypothermia. You climb to your feet, enjoying the sense of power in the body's limbs. The snow reaches to your knees.
"Who am I?" you speak to the empty wilderness.
The words of the computer burn in the corner of your vision. [Lokam, trickster god, last of the Aedra. All other deities deemed unavailable due to involvement in current quest lines.]
"Clothes would have been nice," you shiver, beginning to stomp bare footed through the thick drifts towards the distant town and the promise of warmth emanating from the windows. That seems a good place to start looking for the source of the alarm.
[Lokam is a great conjuror.]
A simple thought is all it takes. The air shimmers over your skin as clothing forms around your body - a soft, black tunic that fits snugly around your broad torso, fur-lined boots of dark green leather and a cuirass of the same material fastened over the tunic. A sheathed, slim sword materialises on your left hip, while a full skin of wine materialises on the right. A heavy woolen cloak covers all of this and you draw the hood up against the weather. Trudging on, the village grows near, a collection of timber buildings in a vaguely norse-style of architecture huddled close together. Snow is piled high in drifts against the walls, almost burying the low buildings. From the largest of the buildings comes the unmistakable sound of very drunken revelry. Knowing your father, that wouldn't be a bad place to start looking.
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