The Walls of Anamoor

I kept mostly quiet as the night wore on, just listening to everyone and soaking in the culture of this charming band of misfits. Jitters hadn’t been joking when she mentioned everyone had a quirk. Basilisk’s past appeared to be a no-go, with everyone carefully skirting around the subject if conversation got too close.

Whistle was… well, Whistle. Dancer and Singer were actually opposites, with Dancer being the singer, and Singer being a dancer. They had been a couple before they were forced into a life of thievery, hence why their names were a pair.

Lark was a creative, an actor by nature, but one that just couldn’t settle on a medium. He knew a dozen different instruments and hundreds of songs, he could sing, dance and act. If he’d wanted to, he could have a very profitable career in the performing arts. However, when I’d asked why he didn’t do that, he’d muttered something about the whole industry being as corrupt as the monsters beyond the wall. Each one of these people had a story fit for an epic fantasy trilogy, and I guess… now I did too? Time would tell.

Eventually, Basilisk whispered in Whistle’s ear, and he nodded, turning to me. “Alright Mist, time to get you set up in a room. We have an uh… abundance of space at the moment, so you have choices.”

“Alright, show me around,” I said, my voice sounding so much more quiet than it used to be. I reflected on that as I stood up and took my dishes over to the bar, then followed Whistle.

It’s not like I was a loud person before, and obviously my speech patterns were running on different hardware now, but still… something was different. It could easily be the uncertainty I felt like a splinter in the back of my mind, a new world and a new group of people, and soon a new way of life. There was a tiny edge of doubt though, a part of me asking, Is that all, Dan? Really?

Certainly the reality of my situation was really starting to settle in. Calm crisis Daniel was fading now that his job was done, leaving me to wrangle with everything that had happened on my own.

I was really, actually here. I was in a strange, dangerous new world, in a new and equally strange body, with a group of people who were probably also just as strange and dangerous. Deep breaths. Do not panic, do not have a break down. You are strong, D— no… Daniel wasn’t strong. He’d known what to do with a problem, but he’d inevitably fall apart in bed that night, worrying about all that could have gone wrong.

But… I wasn’t really Daniel anymore, was I? Same person, sure… but I was Mist now. I was a silent shadow, whispering across the rooftops. Yeah… Dan might fall apart, but I reckoned Mist had things handled. Sorta. Alright, maybe they might fall apart too, but we’d roll with it. Or something. Maybe. Fuck.

“You alright there, Mist?” Whistle asked quietly, and I jumped, slamming back into the present like I was a fence post that had just been rammed into the ground by heavy machinery.

I blinked, staring at the thief for several moments as my brain processed the words he’d just spoken. I kept staring after I’d figured out what he’d said, unable to come up with a reply that wouldn’t sound like total bullshit.

I didn’t need to answer though, because once again, Basilisk silently stepped up beside us. “I think you should give him the room at the end, on the second floor,” she told Whistle with a smile in my direction. “I believe our new friend will need his privacy. Mist, is there anything you need?” That last was directed straight at me, and I began to shake my head.

Then I frowned. Yeah… there was something I needed. A lot of things. “Clothing. Casual wear, not this stealth stuff. A big blanket, and… a large mirror. If you have them, that is.”

“I’ll check storage,” she told me evenly, searching my eyes with questions she wasn’t willing to ask out loud. God, those eyes were haunting. Her pupils were huge, and the acid green of her irises just highlighted the dark in the center.

“Thank you,” I murmured as the eye contact continued, long and confusing as all hell. I could see her cheeks moving ever so slightly, as though she were running her tongue over her fangs again. I suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature, strange and alien imaginings invading my thoughts for a few brief moments. The corner of her mouth twitched.

“I’ll have Dancer carry it up,” she said finally, turning and making for the stairs. She stopped as she reached them, turning back, once again impaling me with a look. “Goodnight Mist, I hope this new home suits you, and that we all… get along.”

For some reason, I found her words funny, and a snort of amusement escaped my nose. “Yeah, that would be ideal. You know, considering the alternatives and everything.”

Basilisk’s eyes danced with laughter, an eyebrow rising just slightly as she held my gaze for another second. Then she was gone, disappearing up the stairs. She was an interesting woman, that was for sure.

Odd to find someone else who found humour in an insinuation that was at its heart, a dark threat of murder. Because, if we didn’t get along, it would mean my death. This hideout wouldn’t stay secret if they just let people walk out the door if their personality didn’t mesh with everyone or whatever.

Maybe I found it funny because I wasn’t afraid of death, like most people were. I didn’t prefer it, but I wasn’t afraid of it. No, my fears stemmed from the idea of existing in pain, of living a life of suffering and agony. Fears that I had been living, although I didn’t entirely understand all the causes of my lifelong apathetic despair.

When I turned back to Whistle, he wore a frown of confusion, staring at me like the recent conversation had been in a foreign language to him. “That was weird,” he commented, then shrugged. “Alright, I’ll go show you the room then. Bit larger than some of the others, but it’s warm and still has furnishings in it. We’ll have to replace the mattress though. Still has a bit of blood on it, I’m afraid.”

“Uh… blood?” I asked, surprise pushing the existential thoughts off the stage. “Why blood?”

“Ah, old guildmate died,” Whistle sighed, wearing a melancholy expression for a moment. “Was wounded during a job, made it back with the loot too. Died of his wounds though, poor fella. Was a good lad.”

Right. An abundance of space. Ouch.

“Lead the way then, let’s get this mattress moved,” I said, feeling tiredness begin to knock at my door.

It didn’t take long to get me outfitted with a room that was usable. Dancer turned up as we were setting the new mattress down on the frame with some of the stuff that I’d asked for, and together we ransacked some storerooms for more stuff I might need. Turns out thieves had a lot of shit lying around, who would have thought it?

My setup was actually better than what I’d left back on earth. I had a dresser full of clothes that sort of maybe fit me, women’s and men’s, a big mirror that I was going to take advantage of as soon as I was alone, and a big soft double bed. Oh, and a hearth, chamber pot, desk and some kit to keep my long knives in good shape.

Dancer left quickly, yawning as he did so, but Whistle hung around for a moment. “Since I brought you in, you can come to me if you need anything, alright? Not a problem, just knock on my door, other end of the hall. I might uh… be out though, at nights, so otherwise Bassi is your go to.”

“Thanks Whistle,” I smiled sleepily, rubbing at my eyes. I was very tired now.

“Ah, hold on, there’s one last thing,” he said quickly, and promptly rushed out of the room. He was back in less than a minute, carrying a cloth bag. “Bassi said to give you this. Don’t know what’s in it, but yeah.”

I took it without opening it. If it was in a bag and he hadn’t been told what was in it, I should probably keep it that way. Instead, I posed a question to him, “Whistle… how old is Basilisk? I can’t get a read on her. She looks relatively young, but… well her attitude is less so.”

Whistle grunted, rubbing at the back of his neck for a moment as he considered me. “Hundred seasons or so, why? Nobody knows anyone’s age down to the point round here.”

“Ah… just curious,” I shrugged, then gave him a pained expression. “Okay, second question… in the Anamoor, how many seasons are there in like, a year?”

“Oh! Four!” he laughed, shaking his head. “As if there would be any more or less!”

“Yeah…” I murmured, thinking of the equator back on Earth. Still, Basilisk was around twenty five years old. I’d thought she was a whole lot older than me. “Anyway, thanks for helping me out, and thanks for inviting me back here. You really saved my ass.”

“It’s nothing,” he smiled, wiggling his eyebrows. “After all, it’s just good instincts to keep someone around who has a habit of jumping off rooftops to save you.”

“I was also the reason that you fell,” I pointed out.

He just waved me off, heading for the door. “Details. Goodnight Mist.”

Then he was gone, and I was alone with myself since this had all started. Finally. Bonelessly, I fell in a heap on the bed and covered my face with my hands, resisting the urge to scream. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

I was in a different world. My whole life gone, as meagre and depressing as it had been, with it’s road to nowhere. Gone, everything I had known, even basic fucking information was useless to me. I didn’t need to know how to set up a water shader in unreal engine anymore, I didn’t need to know the pipeline for getting an asset game-ready. I certainly didn’t need to know how to break a game over and over until my brain had melted to sludge out of pure boredom.

Then there was what it had been replaced with.

A new world, civilisation on the brink of annihilation, hanging on by a single thread as forces of real evil scratched at the door. Corruption from within, the powerful few making sure that they stayed there, and the general population stuck between them and the monsters.

That wasn’t my immediate concern though. This new body was a woman’s body. I’d intended to face it as soon as I had the room to myself, but now that I was alone it was a whole other story. I couldn’t, I couldn’t… it was too much, too many strange emotions surging within me. I’d just… I’d do it in the morning. I’d do it… in… the morning...