You pick up a stylus. It radiates with the power of ten-thousand ancient djinn.
You write your name, Alexander Tyremonius, in the wall of your skin tent.
The tent smokes. You run out, and as you do so, you see another person inside.
You run in and retrieve him.
He chants something in a foreign language and the tent disappears.
He asks, 'Who are you?' though not in a way you could understand if he wasn't speaking in your mind.
This doesn't freak you out; you have heard voices many times.
But it seems that this time they have a body.
You respond, in your native Greek/Egyptian horrorterror slang, 'The dude who plays with scarabs'.
The guy smiles. He shakes your hand and announces that you two would be good friends for a while now. A few thousand aeons to be exact.
He leads you to the site of a future pharaoh's tomb.
He tells you that maths will be the best thing to happen to your socially worthless nation.
You laugh. You say that Egypt is the best thing since melted steel.
He reminds you that your wonderful nation was conquered by the Greeks.
You shut up and wait for the maths to happen.

You bleed from the torso; a fateful blade having pierced you in battle.
Before your eyes go black, you fall in to the Pool of Bethesda.
You are revitalised. You may even say that you've changed.
You know this is the truth when you fend off an enemy's attack with only your forearm and fling him over the gate.
This is your sign; you were not meant to die. You were meant to protect.
You run back in to battle and defend the most beauteous city in existence.

Poor little man. Of course, it's not as though you care nor have the ability to care.
You are a mosquito in Persia; you greedily drink the blood of any fool who hasn't covered his face.
You hit one man who is particularly strange to you.
You gasp with your terrible little mosquito brain as you realise he is a djinn.
You are flung off of the continent and straight into a strange new place with jumping beasts and devious bears that try to murder you when you're under the branches of their trees.
You also notice you are a human woman. You quickly clothe yourself with a skin that you 'found' on a clothes rack.
The woman who owned the skin would've stoned you to death if she wasn't gifted by the Rainbow Snake with a great sence of pity.
She smiles and brings you inside your homestead, and gives you a horrid-smelling but delicious stew.
You decide you'll like it here.

You beat your drums feverishly in tune to the beautiful song of your Tribe; the Chieftain sings of the heroes of old and the noblemen that allowed your people to thrive under them in the future.
You are Nimean; you are proud, and you believe in the power of order and rhythm.
You notice, however, that the world is slipping from you. You realise that you are in a castle, the likes of which you have never seen.
You hear the beats of a strange new song; you can only describe them with a made up word, phatt.
Yes.
These syncopations are defiantly the phattest you've ever heard.

You are Alex T. You live in a tent in front of the most ghetto excavation in the history of Egypt with your best friend, Ramses, who has a strange obsession with maths.
You are immortal because you have synchronised with Ramses, who is technically immortal. It is all very confusing and you don't much care to explain it.
You sit in your tent all day and then screw with stoopids who think they can rob graves.
It's a rather fun life for you.

You are Joseph, the Spirite of Gallancy. Actually, your name is Gallaitch, but your wife would've run away from you if you proposed to her with that name.
You display your wife's triumph over breast cancer by wearing pink, having a pink long-barrelled pistol, and making any biasmonsters pink in the face when you knee them for making fun of you.
You love your life, and everything in it.
Why shouldn't you?

You are Myndie. You have a fascination with mozzies that would be weird if you had not been one at a point in your life. Also, you are the Spirite of Mosquitoes. Your best friend is the Aussie version of a vampire, except he's not sparkly or a Marty-Sam.
You actually started the social networking site for Spirites and you named yourself malikMossie. This is relevant to you because you are the veritable ruler of mosquitoes.
You enjoy your life in now-Melbourne. You enjoyed it even when Captain Cook was here.
To tell the truth, it's just fun to be an AUSSIE! AUSSIE! AUSSIE!
OI! OI! OI!
Sorry, that's your force of habit.

You are Tanokotech; you are the Spirite of Techno and Rave Thingies. You used to spin the phattest syncopations before you got married. Now you leave that up to your Spin Jockey.
But his syncopations are not nearly as phatt.
Not nearly.
You wub to the music in the dance room.
Why shouldn't you?
You're proud of who you are.