Marge grabbed Lizzie's hand and ran like a giddy child down the path to the character creation mansion, as she had called it. Dragged along at a sprint, Lizzie could feel her breath quickening and her muscles warming up under the exertion, as if she was running in real life. Her virtual body was in better shape than her physical body, at the peak of speed and endurance, and she closed the distance to the building with a minimum of time and effort.<br/><br/>It resembled a large chapel with tall stained glass windows in the walls under a steep roof. Steps led up to a pair of double doors that swung open at a touch, letting them inside without any transitions or having to load a new area, just a continuous step inside like in a real world. The sun shone in through the stained glass windows and cast colored shapes on the open floor and on several of the full height mirrors lining the walls at regular intervals.<br/><br/>A wise-looking, white-bearded old man in priest's robes greeted them from the floor. "Welcome my children, to the Chapel of Rebirth. I see you bear the Mark of the Hero." He tapped the back of his left hand with his right. Lizzie felt a warm sensation on the back of her own left hand, and looking down she would see something like a mark or tattoo or brand. Marge tapped her own mark experimentally, and a hologram-like menu display popped up. "Oh, smart," she commented as she scrolled through the options, "they keep all the meta functions here out of the way of the immersion."<br/><br/>"Yes, my child, the Mark you bear grants you powers that few possess," the kindly old priest continued. "Come and gaze deeply into the Mirrors of Flesrenni, for they are said to reflect the way you truly view yourself, and when you are ready, step through the mirror to return to the Material Plane."<br/><br/>"Let's go," Marge said, taking her place in front of one of the mirrors, "the clock's ticking, or the hourglass's dripping, or the sundial's spinning, whatever you call it." In her mirror, Lizzie's reflection changed as she tried out different options in character creation, showing what she would look like as different classes - swinging swords, drawing bows, wielding magic - in heavy armor or lightly dressed - and giving her a chance to customize her appearance by changing her face, body shape, height - even as far as being able to set exactly how curvy and well endowed she wished to be. And of course, there was also the nuts and bolts of choosing her abilities and skills and feats. Frankly it was all a bit overwhelming, but Marge peeked over at Lizzie's mirror to help her through the mechanics.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://i1300.photobucket.com/albums/ag94/Autocad-E/4d2d371a83da3a034455dd47dc1bf4a7_zps2x4ffdnq.jpg)</div>Naturally Marge finished her dream self in her mirror much more quickly and then helped Lizzie to get her avatar to exactly the way she wanted it.  "Hey, old man!" she called out, "can you make sure we end up in the same starting town?"<br/><br/>"If you wish it so, my child. Just step through the mirror at the same time." He turned away to greet another new player who had just entered the building.<br/><br/>"Okay then," Marge took a deep breath, "we'll step into the mirror on the count of three. Ready? One, two three..." The mirror rippled like a silvery, mercury-like liquid as they stepped through it...<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The other side of the mirror was a whole different world. Gone was the idyllic valley, replaced by a prosperous bustling medieval town pulled straight out of a fantasy world. Only in Lizzie's case she had been pulled into it instead of the other way around. She found herself in the middle of a large open town square, the streets leading to and from it lined with busy shops - the ubiquitous taverns one for each major road, several blacksmiths competing with one another's weapon and armor shops, a number of magic shops each with their own specialties - potions, scrolls, wands, and more knick-knacks than she could name or identify - and more. And the people! The streets were filled with them, dressed in bright colors with a bombastic flair straight out of the Renaissance, going about their daily business.<br/><br/>"Most of them are NPCs," someone's voice spoke up beside her. "You can tell the players from the mark on their left hand, like ours." It came from someone who looked very little like the Marge that Lizzie knew: a horned woman with long flowing red hair and otherworldly orange eyes. She broke out into a familiar grin on that unfamiliar face, "It's me, Marge, but you'll have to call me Katrianna Firehair now. I made a tiefling like you so you wouldn't feel lonely," she teased. "Anyways, I was thinking we could try to find a quest in the tavern or maybe head to the arena to do some PvP, anything strike your fancy?"