You pace back and forth a bit, looking analytically at the plush couches,heavy curtains and flimsy wood table of your new domicile. You run a paw over your vulpine face idly.
A wizard, then. A wizard that takes the time to communicate, no less. And *reasonably* powerful? If he's imbued 800 (or more!) costumes with transformative abilities with links to 800 (or more!) alternate dimensions, then... you'd hate to see a "powerful" wizard.
He's got you trapped here, trapped in this "game." But... as far as you can tell, it's not a game like the "games" that the guy on Saw liked to play. You haven't been hurt, and beyond the awkwardness of owning bosoms and a womb, you haven't really been inconvenienced. As far as you can tell, if you keep a steady head and play nicely by the rules, you'll be let go unharmed.
But, then... how to play right now? For a while, you play Sims, going to your closet and replacing your skirt and v-neck with tasteful long pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. You look at yourself in the closet mirror.
Suddenly, you're excited. This is great! Essentially, you've been camouflaged, given the ability to observe this culture of anthropomorphic foxes, which you hadn't usually thought of as a culture but still! Maybe you can adopt a fake name and masquerade! Or maybe even tell everybody the truth--"Hello all, I'm an Earthling male" (right?) "and I was placed into a huge labyrinth full of transforming costumes and this is the first one I picked!
Tee hee!" That should be entertaining.
You want to see outside again, get out of the house. Your paw closes around the door handle and when it opens, there's a male fox all up in your grill, with his paw held up in a knocking position.
"Whoa! Hey there! Sorry about that! Are you..." the fox consults a piece of paper, "Is your name <WHOA it's a feminine version of YOUR name!>?"
"Ah... yeah. It is," you reply.
The fox leans forward and licks your cheek. You gather this is their way of shaking hands. It was good you gathered that because otherwise that would have been very awkward.
"I'm Bragho!" Bragho says. "I'm here to show you around the Northern workplace!"
"Bray-go..." you repeat. "Wait... work?!"
Hey, this is a friggin' quest, for crying out loud! You didn't come here to wash no dishes! Yet the note on your table said it was your way to sustenance and survival... considering the full extent of your transformation, you have a sudden paranoid foreboding about the kinds of "work" that will be offered...
"Oh, are you feeling all right?" Bragho asks, ears pricked.
<Play by the rules just hear him out play nice play nice...>
"Oh, ah... no, I'm fine," you reply. You look around reflexively for a bag to gather. Having none, you turn back to the black-vested vulpine.
"Ah... let's go," you say.
Off you both merrily traipse, through the 1920's esque-village full of happy foxes, fat baby sand glossy furred kits.
"So, ah... what do people... er... *we* do at the 'Northern workplace?'" you ask Bragho with not a little anxiety.
"Ah... we get a bad rap sometimes because everyone always breaks a pant, but really it's the best way to get Kitsoons" (currency?) "in the valley," Bragho replies. "When we get there, I'll show you all the nuances of -------------"
Written by Mr.Peaches on 14 November 2006