Your people have followed the herds since time immemorial. Since the time of your grandfather's grandfather, the land, the beasts, fish and birds have kept your people fed and healthy. With the knowledge of flint and of fire, you set yourselves apart from the animals. You are more. You are human. You think, you laugh, you plan and hunt, more deadly than any wolf pack. You are strong of limb and cunning of mind. You speak and learn and remember. So it has always been, since the time of your grandfather's grandfather.

You are of the tribe, of the family. Over generations, you have met other small bands and you have fought, you have bartered and you have loved. There have been lean times and times of glut, where the tribe has been thin and fat. There are many of you now, more than ever before. It is a good time.

When you last laid your head down to rest, where was it?
>In a cave high among the craggy slopes of the mountains
>Beneath a dusty overhang in sparse and dry scrubland
>Under a bivouac in the deep forests
>Beside a gurgling stream that feeds the river in this valley
>Next to the warm glow of the campfire, with the infinite stars of the steppe overhead
>Sheltering from the rain under the broad leaves of the jungle trees