I rather liked my new body.

After returning to the farmhouse, I spent an hour playing around with the facial features and body molding. The raised scars were difficult to justify. They were part of Fanaal society and my parents had left before my coming of age. By rights, I wouldn't have any, but I hated to go without. Corvis and I came up with a story about a disgraced Fanaal monk who gave me my marks in exchange for a couple of bottles of ale and some cigars.

Fanaal facial features are a bit odd. If molded correctly, you have a feline looking elf with a predatory air. If molded incorrectly, you have a sort of hideous, gaunt smurf with bat-ears. I've never been good at art, though I enjoy sketching. After trying to come up with the right face, Corvis offered to make some adjustments. Unsurprisingly, the character creation program was good at facial sculpting. With delicate waves of her feet and gentle prodding with her beak, she crafted me a new face that an excellent blend of familiar and alien.

I worked on my butt. Yes, while Corvis was showing loving attention to my face, I spent at least half an hour fondling my future body, trying to make the ass perfect. I wanted something bouncy but not too large. It was fun in a rather bizarre way.

"I bet a lot of men," I said while trying to find the right width for my thighs, "spend a great deal of time molding female avatars that they never use."

Corvis sighed absentmindedly, she was touching up my future eyebrows and engrossed in her task. "I could tell you stories. Of course, I can't tell you stories because that would be a violation of my privacy regulations, but... I could tell you stories."

"Those eyebrows seem thick." I inspected her handiwork with interest. "I don't like my eyebrows and I was hoping for very thin ones."

"You talk a lot with your eyebrows and your lips. When I've watched you, you often react to what people say by doing something with your brows. I don't want you to lose that," she replied.

Far be it from me to argue with an artist at her work.

We spent time afterwards going over my background and picking creation traits. Creation traits are simply a handful of hooks the game uses to ground you in the world. They provide small bonuses that aren't useful in the endgame but tended to be flavorful.

As a child, I'd been part of the Rose Street Gang. I'd handle look out while older kids committed crimes. It unlocked a [Underworld Connection (Minor)] trait for me.

Despite my poor upbringing, I'd managed to procure, legally or not, better than usual beginner equipment. That unlocked a [Fine Novice Gear] trait. Corvis explained that at level 10, when I selected a class, my gear options would be far better, but for levels 1-9, I wouldn't have to worry about upgrades.

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Lastly, I liked the idea of a disgraced Fanaal monk so much that I decided to have him stick around. He was now Mon Elclimon, a drunken pit fighter who I was friends with. That got me a [Close Associate] trait.

"Janus," I finally decided on a name.

Fanaal me stood in the farmhouse in her worn but functional leathers, a short sword on her hip. She looked sharp and deadly, a playful smile curling at her lips as she pondered the mayhem to come.

Corvis gave a happy sigh, like a tired mama bird sending her chick off.

"I don't suppose we'll meet again?" I asked.

She cocked her head to the side. "You won't see me in game, but if you ever create a new character, I'll be around. I expect you'll unlock an advanced or exotic race at some point. Maybe I can help you sculpt a dragon body some day." There was a note of pleasure in her voice. I wondered how real it was. Did she feel satisfaction in creating tens of thousands of avatars to run off into the world? Or was this a pleasant mask draped in front of a rational machine that no more cared for their work than assembly robots care about the cars they manufacture?

"I'll miss you. Thanks for the help." Privacy laws being what they were, this specific program would know I had a medical account but not the details. She probably was used to people with chronic or long-term conditions. Whatever the outcome, I was unlikely to pop back into here any time soon. "Goodbye."

I watched her fly off into the false storm.

When I lost sight of her, a sudden impulse hit me. Fanaal me prowled around the farmhouse. I could see myself in her movements. What about gnoll me? I had three basic slots, after all.

Just for fun, I pulled up the modeling program and unlocked the second slot. Soon a black furred gnoll me appeared. Sculpting her features was easy, I simply picked the most vicious and cruel traits and exaggerated them. The being I crafted was something out of a nightmare, yet in the light of the farmhouse it looked a bit goofy. Things are much more frightening when they're half-glimpsed. Pull them out into the light, study them for a bit, and they lose part of their edge.

Fanaal-me had stretched out on couch like a lazy cat. She looked bored as I played with the gnoll, as though she/we had very important things to be doing that I was keeping her from.

"Okay, okay," I finally said. "I'm finished. What do you think?"

"I think I'm glad you didn't make me," Janus replied. My eyebrows rose. I hadn't expected a response. Her voice, the way she spoke, it was so familiar. Only I've heard my voice before and it never sounded that nice.

"Everyone's a critic." I looked back at my creation. Big, dumb slobbering brute. It was difficult to believe that anyone would pick a gnoll; I couldn't imagine why Corvis had suggested it to me.

Gnoll-me abruptly shifted. Sharp golden eyes stared down at me.

"Name?" it asked. Its breath hit my face--hot and smelling of dead things.

I flinched in disgust. "House: exit character creation."

My two companions fizzled into nothingness. Oh wait, I hadn't meant to get rid of Janus. My bad.

"House: I want to enter the game as Janus now. Please begin the tutorial."

My world went dark and a message appeared.

The Moth Says: Fly forward and you will stumble on something, perhaps when you are least expecting it. I have never stumbled on something while staying still.