A Found Letter - An Introduction

This letter was found set behind the front cover of the book

Dear Fellow Traveler,

I stumbled upon this peculiar tome, titled “The Wanderer’s Guide to the Multiverse,” during my own journeys across the infinite realities. At first, I assumed it was merely another travel journal left behind by some forgotten explorer. How wrong I was.

Since that fateful discovery, compiling this complete guidebook has become something of an obsession. You see, every world I visit seems to harbor stories of “a wanderer”, always singular, always mysterious. Initially, I dismissed these tales as mere folklore, assuming “wanderer” was simply another word for “traveler,” like you or me. But gradually, I noticed something peculiar: the locals carefully distinguished between ordinary travelers and “The Wanderer,” as if speaking of two entirely different species of being.

I might have continued dismissing this as superstitious nonsense, but then the stories began to align in ways that defied coincidence. Every culture had details that were unmistakably consistent. A solitary figure who appears at crucial moments, who knows things no mortal should know, who leaves behind wisdom and vanishes before thanks can be offered. Some spoke of The Wanderer as if they were myth made flesh, others as a force of nature given human form.

Finding this guidebook didn’t create the legend… it confirmed it.

The moment I opened the tome, I knew I held something extraordinary. The words shimmer and shift, adjusting themselves to whatever language the reader knows best. More unsettling still, the book maintains an air of mysterious finality, as if it contains exactly what you need to know - no more, no less.

The physical properties of this tome defy explanation. It appears to contain precisely one hundred pages, never more, never fewer. Yet I swear I’ve read well over that number. I’ve tried counting, marking my place, even tearing out pages (they reappear by morning, naturally). Sections materialize and dissolve like morning mist, only to resurface when I need them most. As I’ve traveled to more worlds and gathered more knowledge, new chapters have emerged, solidifying into permanent entries. Simply selecting a world’s name from the table of contents now transports me directly to The Wanderer’s observations about that reality. Throughout my travels, this guidebook has proven invaluable. It is part encyclopedia, part survival manual, and part philosophical treatise. The Wanderer’s insights have saved my life more times than I care to count, and opened my mind to possibilities I never imagined.

If you are reading this, then I have passed beyond the veil of mortality, and this book has found its way to you. I hope it serves you as faithfully as it served me. May you uncover mysteries I never dreamed of, and may your own journey through the infinite realities be filled with wonder rather than mere survival. Travel well, and remember: every world has something to teach, if you’re willing to learn.

Weave,
Traveler and Magician

Player’s Note
Throughout this book, you will see comment blocks that provide game rules for The Multiverse TTRPG. While these worlds can be used for any setting, it was intentionally designed to work with that system as an example for various settings, and traveling the Multiverse itself - so welcome traveler, may you be inspired.

Hello, Multiverse

First, let me start off with a truth. This truth may be hard to think about, and you may even think it is purely fantasy… or my preferred word, hobbligook. Or maybe it was hobblegook? Gobblegook? The exact spelling escapes me, but you get the idea. Either way, that isn’t important. What is important is that there isn’t one world, but many, many worlds as many as there are grains of sand on your world. A great multiverse of both worlds that seem fantastical from your world, or simply a world exactly the same as your world except they use the word mavity instead of gravity. And contrary to popular belief, these worlds are not that far apart or hard to get to as one would imagine. There isn’t a wall that separates the worlds. There isn’t even a thin veil. It is more like a dense London fog. You are walking across your London, thinking you are going to Kensington and then suddenly you realize you are in Camden. While you may not realize it, creatures, often of the intelligent variety wander into other worlds all the time, simply by taking a wrong turn. Cats on the other hand do this on purpose.

It could happen to you. One day, you are going to the kitchen in your small flat. You always turn right to get into your kitchen, and usually after staring blankly at a fridge like it will make a sandwich, you end up grabbing chips because they are easy and walk back to the TV to watch another episode some old TV show that has been finished for many years. No they are not going to make a sequel. Anyway, you always turn right. When it is raining, you turn right to the kitchen. When it is sunny, you turn right to the kitchen. To be dreadfully dull about it, the kitchen is indeed to the right of you down your little hallway, so of course you in your fully debatable intelligence will turn right. Right? Maybe. What if one day, you absently turn left. You run into the wall. Why? There is a wall there of course! Normally, turning left you would smack the wall with your face, arguing that the wall randomly reached out and hit you. It always wins those fights, so best not to argue. However, one day, you turn left and just miss the wall. That’s it. That’s the trick. Instead of hitting the wall, you simply miss hitting it.

After a few minutes you find yourself wandering the nine hells, and end up having a cup of tea with a world destroying demon, feared throughout the realms, the terror of misfortune, called Fred. You have a lovely discussion about crippling social anxiety, sharing the revelation that even the most terrifying monstrosity of a thousand screams disdains cocktail parties, just like you do. Don’t even get them started on Tupperware parties. The last one they attended they accidentally destroyed everyone before the final sales pitch, though the Tupperware company managed to get a sales order for their entire monthly quota that day. Needless to say, the world is infinitely stranger than you can imagine, and more normal than you can possibly dream. Fred is doing fine by the way. They have acquired a series of help books. They told me they must truly first love themselves, before they can be the best nightmarish creature they seek to be. Hey, don’t judge. We must all have aspirations, and the important part of this is that getting self help is normal, and needed before one can truly live to their aspirations. Also, this strange incident is actually based on another story, but that story isn’t for now. Actually, the important part of this was to help you realize, the universe is actually plural - universes or better said, the Multiverse.

I love the Multiverse. I may not love all the people in it, and some of them I down right loath, hate, maybe even disdain. However, the worlds across the Multiverse, I have always sought to see them all. Who am I? Well, I have gone by many names. Fable, M, Aesop, Naolin, Maximilian Cumberbatch the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, or whatever else struck my fancy at the time. That is because in truth, I am The Wanderer. No, no, you misunderstand. Not “a” wanderer. There are many of those. Travelers, wanderers, chroniclers, or just simply wizards who pretend to know where they are going but are indeed lost. I, however, am The Wanderer. I have spent my immeasurable lifetime wandering the great multiverse. My brothers and sisters, well, I shall leave their names out, and I are more like ideas. That shows what little you may actually know of the Multiverse, as to be called simply an idea really is rude, and I kindly ask you not to do it. Now, am I alone? Of course not! Don’t be so arrogant. I encourage others. I welcome others. I encourage you to be a Traveler. Yes you. A traveler is someone who can either go the quick way through the Multiverse or the long way, one world at a time. What sets a wanderer and traveler apart from everyone else is a natural curiosity and joy about the world around them. The inner desire to discover new things, document those discoveries. The greatest wanderers are those who explore their own minds, then cause their discoveries to manifest in yours. Writers, artists, creators - they’re all wizards, really. What else would you call it when someone dreams something in their mind and makes it appear in yours? Magic, pure and simple.

In either case, since you are reading these words, in what I hope is your language, you have stumbled across my journal which I have turned into a Guide for you. This guide is meant to be a codex for the most frugal traveler, as you seek to wander the Multiverse. I hope you treat this codex as a survival manual of sorts. A guideline of what is out there. Of course, if you are unlucky, you may only have a small part of my full journal, which may mean you will want to supplement stories from other wanderers and travelers. However, whether it is my guide, or their journals, may you find your ever expanding codex of knowledge as a guide across the Multiverse. I would put Don’t Panic on the cover, but in truth, Sir Adams’s book is one of the few works in your world that is known across the Multiverse. I assume it has something to do with the Don’t Panic and always bringing a towel with you. Frankly, a towel is really a useful tool to have as you traverse the multitudes of existence, so yes, take this book and a towel. Plus, Multiverse lawyers are truly the worst to deal with. Fae - every. single. one. of them. Best to avoid them at all costs.

To get you started, it is good to understand the multiverse as a whole, before you dive into some of the various worlds I have visited. The similarities before the differences, as some like to say. What can you as a traveler expect when you first start exploring the Multiverse? Well a good drink at a tavern, new clothes, maybe some paper or inks, and a rug… though probably best to avoid the rugs.

Multiverse Theory 101

The structure of the Multiverse is hard to describe, and even harder to grasp even if it was described properly. The scientist in me says I should attempt to describe different theories of the Multiverse. The wizard in me knows that none of them are exactly correct. Theories, after all, are just tidy little boxes we use to contain something infinitely messier than our minds can handle. However, to better understand the various worlds of the multiverse, it is useful to know these theories, so we shall start there. Fair warning: your head may hurt a bit. Mine certainly does, and I’ve been doing this for eons.

The Near Planes Theory

Alright, I use this term loosely, but let’s say your plane is the center of all existence. Yes, we all know it isn’t. The universe has a distressing tendency to not revolve around any of us, despite our best efforts to convince it otherwise. But from your perspective, it is the center. Throughout your history, there are branches and changes. An infinitesimal number of branches and changes, really, but most of those changes overlap and converge in ways that would make a mathematician weep with joy or terror, depending on their temperament.

There may be one world that has evolved slower for whatever reason, but it is still essentially your world. A world where perhaps the printing press was invented fifty years later, or where tea was discovered before coffee, leading to entirely different approaches to international diplomacy. Oddly enough, languages tend to evolve similarly, and even countries tend to exist in roughly the same places with roughly the same borders. There may be minor differences (perhaps France is called Gaul still, or maybe England never quite got over being called Britannia) and even major differences, but some things are just sort of… set. Fixed points, if you will, like cosmic tent pegs holding reality in roughly the same shape.

For the most part, these planes are boring. Yup, I said it. Who enjoys seeing what history would be like with one minor change? “Oh look, in this world, Napoleon was slightly taller and conquered Russia successfully.” Riveting stuff, truly. Oh, actually, I know a lot of people who do find this fascinating. Historians, mostly, people who argue about alternate outcomes at dinner parties, and the most opinionated - historical reenactors. Yes, those could be interesting worlds to explore… if you enjoy that sort of thing. I suppose someone has to.

However, the similarities may not be as similar as you think. Let’s take your realm, for example. How do you know I was talking about your realm? Well, in truth, most anyone who picks up this journal will find this statement applies to them. It’s one of those convenient universal truths, like “traffic is always worse when you’re running late” or “the other queue always moves faster.”

Your realm seems normal to you. Sure, there may be some darkness to it (strange disappearances, unexplained phenomena, politicians who seem unusually adept at avoiding direct questions) but to you, it is normal. If you shift along the spectrum of worlds, you may find a realm where magic and darkness lie just below the surface, hidden like the electrical wiring in your walls. I often call these worlds Dark Fable worlds. They are worlds you know, but there is something more that lurks beneath the veneer of mundane reality. The strength of the Shadow Realm is much higher in Dark Fable worlds, seeping through like damp in an old basement.

On the other hand, you can also stumble upon Light Fable worlds, where spirits are both tricksters and helpers, like having a household full of invisible relatives with questionable senses of humor but ultimately good intentions. These worlds are often idealized variations of your world. Maybe not in the world itself (wars still happen, people still stub their toes on furniture - arguably, probably more so due to the trickster nature of it all) but the wonder of magic sits around each corner like a cat waiting to trip you, except in a delightful way.

These are all worlds that are close to your world, clustered together like books on the same shelf. However, as you go farther along the spectrum, the worlds become stranger and stranger. Soon you have stumbled upon worlds where evolution has taken completely different turns, creating multiple races, systems of magic that would make your head spin, and societies organized around principles that would seem utterly foreign. Imagine a world where cats developed opposable thumbs first, or where mathematics was discovered by poets instead of philosophers. Different, but not necessarily better or worse - just… sideways to what you know.

The Overlapping Realms

Each of these worlds are essentially overlapping, like sheets of paper laid one atop another, and no, if you immediately think this has to do with vibrations and quantum realities, you are wrong. I’m looking at you, theoretical physicists. Stop trying to make everything about waves and particles. However, the Material Realms are not the only worlds overlapping with yours. Within each world there exists both a Shadow Realm and a Spirit Realm, pressed against your reality like pages in a book that have gotten slightly stuck together.

While dark energies tend to gravitate towards the Shadow Realm, and light energies toward the Spirit Realm—in truth, these are not opposite sides of the same coin. I actually think they might be the same coin, viewed from different angles, or perhaps different aspects of the same fundamental force. From your point of view, though, they would feel like entirely different realms, as different as ice and steam despite both being water.

They exist side by side with your reality, so close you could reach out and touch them if you knew where to put your hand. The Spirit Realm being the most interesting to most people—you may accidentally stumble one day into a bathhouse run by spirits who insist on payment in memories rather than coins, or you may leave out offerings for spirits to help you find your lost keys, and surprisingly, they do! The spirits, it seems, have an odd fondness for small acts of kindness and an inexplicable knowledge of where you left things.

The Shadow Realm, on the other hand, is where beings and people go to hide. Not necessarily evil beings (though yes, some of those too) but anyone who needs to exist just slightly outside normal reality. Spies, exiles, people avoiding their taxes, creatures who find sunlight disagreeable, and anyone who has ever wished they could just disappear for a while. It’s remarkably accommodating, though the décor tends toward the gloomy side.

I often wonder if our ideas about death and the afterlife come from glimpses of these realms. If your heart is heavy when you pass from your world, you may fall into a small pocket realm within the Shadow Realm—and yes, there are indeed pockets of demi-planes within these realms, like rooms within rooms within rooms. Many of these shadow pockets are ruled by fiends whose names I shall not put here, partly for your safety and partly because they have a disturbing tendency to show up when you say their names three times. If your heart is light when you pass, you probably fall into a pocket of the Spirit Realm, where the tea is always perfectly brewed and someone is usually playing pleasant music just out of sight.

Once again, if you insist this is all about vibrations, you would be wrong, but you could probably think of it as different frequencies if it helps you sleep better at night. Think of it like radio stations—same device, different channels, and occasionally you get interference between them.

This gives us three very near planes to consider: the Material Realms (your realm with variations both near and far), the Shadow Realm, and the Spirit Realm. Keeping up yet? Probably not, and that’s perfectly fine. Even I get confused sometimes, and I’ve been wandering between them for longer than most civilizations have existed. Just knowing they exist is helpful for describing how some magic and abilities work, and why sometimes you catch glimpses of things that shouldn’t be there out of the corner of your eye. Spoiler alert: they probably are there, just not quite in the same realm as you.

The Hedge

With all this in mind, it’s important to note that there exists something I like to call the Hedge. Have you ever watched one of those fascinating ant farms behind glass? You know the ones where you can see all the tunnels connecting in every which direction, creating a maze that somehow makes perfect sense to the ants but looks like absolute chaos to everyone else. There are levels, certainly, but there are also shortcuts between those levels that seem to defy any reasonable architectural planning.

Well, throughout the Multiverse, there exists just such a shortcut system. It is simultaneously the most useful and the most dangerous path anyone could ever take. The Hedge is a realm unto itself, one of those cosmic tent peg realms that truly exists only once, but that singular existence stretches everywhere at once. Think of it as the Multiverse’s back-alley system, if back alleys were prone to spontaneous rearrangement and populated by beings who’ve given up on the concept of linear thinking.

This realm is where many of your world’s stories about the fae and other strange creatures originate, at least partially. It’s rather interesting, actually. In worlds where elves evolved naturally alongside humans, they don’t tend to worry much about distant, mysterious fae when they have perfectly tangible, local fae living next door who borrow sugar and return it as crystallized moonlight. But in worlds like yours, where magic hides behind the curtains of mundane reality, the Hedge bleeds through in stories and legends.

The Hedge itself defies easy description because it refuses to stay consistent long enough for proper cataloging. It’s populated by beings I can only describe as brilliantly mad, creatures and people who’ve adapted to survive in a realm where standard physics threw up their hands in frustration and wandered off to find a nice, predictable dimension to govern instead. These inhabitants have learned to navigate a world where reality is more of a suggestion than a rule, where cause and effect engage in philosophical debates rather than maintaining any reliable relationship.

The Hedge connects all worlds through an impossible network of paths that might be forest trails one moment and subway tunnels the next. There are fields that stretch beyond horizons, pocket realms nested within other pocket realms like a cosmic set of nesting dolls, and yes, sometimes even literal tunnels, though I wouldn’t recommend assuming they lead where you think they should. The Hedge has its own sense of direction, and it doesn’t always align with conventional notions of “forward,” “backward,” or “logically toward your intended destination.”

Navigation through the Hedge requires a particular kind of thinking that I can only describe as “sideways logic.” Those who try to apply normal reasoning tend to find themselves walking in circles, or worse, walking in shapes that don’t have names because geometry hasn’t invented them yet. The successful travelers are usually those who’ve either gone slightly mad in useful ways, or who possess the rare ability to think like the Hedge thinks, which is to say, not in straight lines but in spirals, loops, and the occasional interpretive dance.

The Mad Realms

Now, let’s take a step further into madness, shall we? There exist realms in which madness is the governing logic, at least to your mind. To the creatures that live there, the madness is perfectly normal and sensible. It’s rather like capitalism, really. If you’re raised in it your whole life, you may find it completely reasonable, but if someone starts to question the underlying logic, you begin to see that the entire monetary system is simply elaborate, collective madness.

Actually, no, that’s not quite fair to capitalism. Money does serve a useful purpose. It’s really quite difficult to keep track of favors, so currency acts as a tangible substitute. Stock markets, on the other hand, those are absolutely run by goblin fae who make up all the numbers while laughing that you actually believe any of the money exists. An entire system based purely on collective belief. Terrifying when you think about it, but I suppose that’s beside the point.

However, I digress, as I often do when contemplating economic systems. These distant realms are better known as the Mad Realms, because they are so fundamentally different from your center-of-the-universe perspective that absolutely nothing makes sense. The laws of physics there don’t just bend, they engage in elaborate practical jokes. Mathematics occasionally gets drunk and forgets how to count properly. Cause and effect have had a falling out and refuse to speak to each other.

The real problem with the Mad Realms? The creatures from them often enjoy playing in other realms, though “playing” might not be the right word. “Existing catastrophically” might be more accurate. At least, it appears that way to those of us who prefer our reality with a bit more structural integrity. Cultists and followers will sometimes find these beings and attempt to worship them, though honestly, most Mad Realm entities couldn’t care less about worship. However, once these minor beings manage to say their names correctly (which is no small feat, given that Mad Realm names tend to exist in seventeen dimensions and sound like the equivalent of a sneeze), they might as well reward such dedication by casually destroying everything in the immediate vicinity.

Think of it this way. Let’s say that ant colony I had you envision earlier (see how I cleverly tied this back to the previous section? I am good like that) suddenly rearranged their tunnels one day to spell out your name in perfect cursive. Once you realize it is cursive, you would be impressed, naturally. Maybe you give them a little sugar as a reward for such artistry. Then one day, through some miracle of evolution and determination, one ant manages to speak in your language. It’s very difficult to hear, like listening to someone whisper through several layers of cotton, but you catch a few words. It wants more sugar. Simple enough. You leave some sugar crystals and feel rather pleased with yourself for this interspecies communication breakthrough.

Then one day, your favorite ant gets your attention again. But instead of asking for something simple like more sugar or perhaps a tiny ant-sized umbrella (you of course have already complicated how to make one), it asks for something far more complex. It wants another ant to love them. Now, you may not understand the intricacies of ant romance, but this is your favorite ant, the one that learned to speak your language. You want to help. You think about it with your vast, incomprehensible-to-ants intelligence, and you realize that if you simply destroy all the ants except this one and the ant it wishes would love them, then of course love must naturally follow. It’s basic logic, really.

After accomplishing this task with the casual efficiency that comes from being several orders of magnitude larger than your subjects, you notice that your favorite ant is looking at you in absolute horror. It has just realized that it was the unwitting cause of the complete destruction of its entire civilization. Meanwhile, you’ve already gone back to drinking your tea without a care in the world, rather pleased with your problem-solving skills.

Maybe one day you’ll check back to see if the two surviving ants have managed to repopulate their colony. Of course, it’s only then that you remember ants don’t actually experience love or reproduction in the same way you do, and their entire social structure was based on collective cooperation that you’ve just obliterated. You begin to wonder what the ant was actually asking for when it used your word “love.” Perhaps it meant something entirely different in ant-speak, like “additional tunneling support” or “protection from the neighbor’s cat.”

But by then, it’s far too late for such considerations.

This type of well-intentioned cosmic horror is perfectly normal behavior for creatures of the Mad Realms. They operate on scales and logic systems so fundamentally different from ours that even their kindness can unravel reality as we know it. This is why visiting the Mad Realms will, quite literally, drive you insane. Your mind simply isn’t equipped to process their version of cause and effect, and attempting to do so tends to result in a complete breakdown of your ability to understand anything at all.

My advice? Stay away from the Mad Realms entirely. Some doors are better left unopened, some paths better left unexplored, and some cosmic entities better left uncontacted. There are plenty of other realms to visit where the worst that might happen is you get turned into a toad or accidentally start a small war. Those are the kinds of manageable risks that make interdimensional travel exciting rather than existentially horrifying.

Summarizing the Overlapping Dimensions Theory

Alright students, let’s summarize this theory. All realms exist simultaneously spreading out farther from a central point. Like pages of an infinitely sized book. Additionally, there are pages glued together that represent the Shadow and Spirit realms. Finally, we have put holes through it all (which one should never do with a book…) to have quick connections to it all. These theories are all great, but there are those who will say they are Gooblegok!

The Large Universe Theory

The next theory is a bit simpler to grasp, though it comes with its own peculiar set of consequences for interdimensional travel. This is the belief that all the realms are actually different planets within the same universe. One universe, mind you, but absolutely massive beyond all comprehension. The proponents of this theory argue that since the universe is infinite (and they’re quite insistent about the infinite part), there must be an infinite number of planets scattered throughout its vastness.

This means you won’t ever stumble upon a world where the only difference is that Napoleon was slightly taller and managed to conquer Russia through improved reach. Instead, all the worlds would be vastly, dramatically different from your own.

Now, this raises some rather obvious questions that even the most casual interdimensional traveler might ask. How does one actually travel between these distant planets? What about all those stories of seeing spirits, fae creatures, or other dimensional beings wandering about? If everything is just really, really far apart in normal space, how do these encounters happen?

The Large Universe theorists have thought about this, naturally. They believe there are alternative means of travel that don’t involve the rather primitive method of sitting atop multiple tons of carefully controlled explosives and shooting yourself like an enormous, expensive firework into the sky while hoping it doesn’t decide to explode all at once. Their proposed alternatives include traveling via pure thought (which sounds lovely until you remember how easily your mind wanders), astral projection (leaving your body behind like forgotten luggage), or perhaps having your spirit pulled to another world when you die, which is either the ultimate adventure or the worst possible travel insurance claim, depending on your perspective.

These are all perfectly reasonable possibilities within the Large Universe Theory framework. After all, if consciousness can exist independently of physical matter, why shouldn’t it be able to hop between planets like a cosmic tourist with unlimited frequent flyer miles?

The theory becomes even more intriguing when you consider that there might be Small Universes nested within the Large Universe. Picture civilizations so advanced that they’ve learned to sail the aetheric currents from planet to planet, hopping between interstellar ports like island-hopping in some vast cosmic archipelago. Imagine space-faring vessels that navigate by following streams of pure thought, or merchants who trade in crystallized emotions across star systems. Something that may be utterly impossible in your world becomes perfectly mundane for them, like how you might take a bus to visit your grandmother, except their grandmother lives three solar systems over and has tentacles.

These Small Universe communities might have developed technologies that make interdimensional travel as routine as your morning commute. Perhaps they’ve discovered that consciousness naturally resonates at certain frequencies that allow for instantaneous travel between compatible worlds. Maybe they’ve learned to fold space-time like origami, creating shortcuts that bypass the inconvenient limitations of distance and physics.

The beauty of the Large Universe Theory is its elegant simplicity. No overlapping dimensions, no mysterious realms existing alongside reality, no cosmic tent pegs holding everything together. Just one really, magnificently enormous universe containing every possible variation of existence, all spread out across distances that make infinity look like a reasonable weekend getaway.

This theory is much simpler to understand than the overlapping realms model, which is both its greatest strength and its most suspicious weakness. As most scientists will tell you (usually while adjusting their spectacles in a superior manner), just because something is easy to understand doesn’t necessarily mean it’s correct. The universe has a rather irritating habit of being far more complicated than we’d prefer, and simple explanations often turn out to be woefully inadequate once you start poking at them with actual experience.

Still, there’s something appealingly straightforward about the idea that we’re all just really, really far apart from each other, traveling between worlds through methods that transcend mere physical transportation. It certainly makes more intuitive sense than trying to explain how seventeen different versions of reality can exist in the same space without getting tangled up in each other like cosmic yarn.

But… The Spirit, Shadow and Hedge Exists… So do the Small Universes

Now here’s where my extensive, occasionally painful experience comes in handy. They all exist. Every single one of them. The Spirit Realm, the Shadow Realm, the Hedge, the overlapping near-planes, the Mad Realms that should be avoided at all costs, and those vast cosmic distances filled with impossible worlds. All of it. Simultaneously. I realize this sounds like the kind of answer that makes theoretical physicists weep into their calculators, but I’m afraid reality has never been particularly concerned with making their jobs easier.

I have personally walked through the Spirit Realm, where helpful entities offered me tea that tasted like liquid starlight and solved three of my most pressing problems before I’d even mentioned them. I’ve navigated the Shadow Realm, where beings hide not because they’re evil, but because they find regular reality far too loud and bright for comfortable existence. I’ve survived trips through the Hedge, though I’ll admit I came out speaking in rhymes for a week and occasionally turning purple when excited.

I have witnessed Dark Fable worlds firsthand, standing in the exact same coffee shop I’d visited the day before, except this time the barista was a perfectly pleasant vampire who made excellent lattes and gave relationship advice to lovelorn ghosts. I’ve experienced the mind-numbing tedium of visiting a world that was exactly identical to the previous one I’d explored, with only one small change: they spoke backwards. Completely backwards. Not just the words, mind you, but the entire structure of their sentences. “Morning good, Wanderer!” they’d say, which sounds charming until you realize every single conversation requires intense concentration just to parse basic pleasantries.

That particular world was actually rather fascinating once you got past the linguistic gymnastics, but I’ll admit it was exhausting. Try ordering breakfast when you have to remember to say “eggs scrambled with bacon crispy and toast buttered” and hope they understand you want the standard configuration rather than some bizarre interpretation of your grammatically inverted request.

But I’ve also sailed the aetheric currents between distant star systems, my vessel guided by different waves of light that glittered like jewelry in the void. I’ve lived on worlds made entirely of singing crystal, where the inhabitants communicated through harmonics that could shatter diamonds or heal broken hearts depending on the pitch. I’ve sat in a comfortable chair on an observation deck, sipping surprisingly good wine while watching a star-eater (magnificent creature, really, about the size of a small moon with the table manners of your uncle Bernard who constantly asks you to pull his finger at holiday gatherings) methodically devour an entire planet from a system of seventeen worlds.

The wine was excellent, by the way. The locals had been evacuating for months once they spotted the star-eater’s approach, and they’d left behind their finest vintages. Seemed like a shame to let perfectly good wine go unappreciated just because reality was being fundamentally restructured in the immediate vicinity. Naturally, I had to watch and enjoy the fine vintage.

This means the true theory, the real answer to how the Multiverse actually works, is delightfully, frustratingly simple: it’s a little of both. And also a little of everything else we haven’t thought of yet. The Multiverse appears to operate on the principle that if something can possibly exist, it probably does, somewhere, in some form, and likely in several contradictory versions simultaneously.

The overlapping realms exist alongside the vast cosmic distances. The Mad Realms lurk at the edges of both systems, being universally terrible neighbors no matter which cosmological model you subscribe to. Small civilizations sail between nearby worlds while massive space-faring cultures traverse impossible distances, and somehow both can end up at the same interdimensional tavern on a Thursday evening, arguing about whose reality makes more sense.

It’s rather like asking whether light is a wave or a particle, except instead of light, it’s everything, and instead of two options, there are approximately seven thousand, most of which contradict each other in fascinating ways.

Now that you understand that everything you think you know about the universe is both perfectly correct and completely wrong at the same time, we can finally discuss the practical matter of how one actually gets from here to there across this magnificent, impossible, thoroughly contradictory Multiverse. Because theory is all well and good, but at some point, you need to know which door to walk through when you want to visit somewhere that doesn’t technically exist yet.

Traveling The Multiverse

So you want to travel the multiverse? I must warn you. It can be a rather lonely life. Always jumping from place to place, but often, you’re doing it alone. You may be one of the few people who ends up in a small group doing it, but those are pretty rare. This loneliness can be compounded by the strangeness and danger of it, and if you do manage to make a friend or two, you have to be intentional about remaining in contact. Imagine meeting someone on a world, but on the next world there’s an alternate version of them. Which one is really your friend, and if you want to remain friends, you need to be intentional about how you interact. Now imagine you’re both Travelers. Trying to find times and moments to meet up become even more difficult and strange. Additionally, the dangers of the multiverse are profound. One misstep can easily ruin your world, or even the history of another world. Realistically, it’s much safer to stay at home.

Of course, world changers rarely play it safe. Risk is what drives real innovation and change, and risk is what drives creating opportunities to see wonders. With all the dangers of the multiverse, there are a hundred wonders. Each wonder stranger than you can imagine, yet somehow familiar. Across the multitudes of worlds, I’m constantly amazed by how similar people are. Not in looks and definitely very different cultures, but there’s this inner essence that seems to shine forth, especially from mortals. A desire to make a difference, a desire to succeed, a desire to be liked, a desire to love, and above all, a desire for deep connection. We all ache for connection, mortal and immortal alike, and that desire for connection is shared across the multiverse.

Don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t mean everyone is jumping to meet others. I would rather have a good book on the ancient Gregorian languages (very difficult, song based language) than meet someone, but connection goes beyond people. When we both read the same book, we share a connection. When we look at the moon above, or the twelve moons above Ardor, there’s a connection for all those who share that experience. Our reality, our very beings, are made up of shared experiences and connections. This is what makes the multiverse wonderful. What shared experience are you going to create? What shared story are you going to tell? Traveling the multiverse can be lonely because the story you tell is only a small part in multiple stories, but the wonder of seeing all the stories truly is a wonder beyond wonders.

I say I love the Multiverse, but that isn’t correct. I love the stories. I chose to wander because I collect stories. I thrive on stories. They sustain me, and they drive me to find more. Maybe one day, I will learn of your story. I can picture it now. You started off on a world, thinking you would take the long way through the Multiverse. Then one day, you turned left, and just missed the wall. Suddenly you were wandering, and you came across this guide. Now with the help of yours truly, you’ve become a Traveler. And to think, if you had turned right and gone into the kitchen as always—you would have missed your greatest adventure. Of course, there may be another you who did turn right… Maybe best not to dwell on that.

Now turning left and missing the wall is really an impractical way to travel. Nearly every time, you will indeed hit the wall, and the odds of just missing it, unless you know what you’re doing, is extremely small. Don’t get me started on the actual statistics of it, but let’s just say it’s a bad way to travel. Zero stars, do not recommend walking into walls unless you have a way through them already set up.

Travel Items

With that said, let’s go over some more common ways to travel. Many of these items you can find in a hub city (Crossroads Station, The Floating Bazaar, Nexus Prime, Haven’s Rest, The Spiral Market, The Faerie Market, The Bronze City, Shivari, to name a few), and for some reason, many first-time Travelers end up in one relatively soon in their travels. We’ll explore these fascinating places in detail later, but for now, know that they’re where the real business of multiversal travel happens.

Dimensional Anchors

Often dimensional travel is based on your connection to the place you are traveling to. The more connection you have, the easier it is to travel to a location. As such, it’s important to mention dimensional anchors. These are items or individuals that you have developed a sympathetic connection with. Often this connection could be formal, such as a statue you have blessed with pure water and meditated at for seven days. It can also be informal, such as having lived there for a while, and you may have a home still in that dimension. Other beings are often the strongest connection, but also the hardest to not only maintain plus they may not always be where you think they are. They must feel a similar connection to you, and only by this shared connection are you both anchors to each other (whether they are travelers or not).

A word of advice: When visiting the markets, do not be fooled by people selling anchors. These do not work, as every anchor requires personal attunement. However, they do have to be made of similar quality materials, but it’s often better to just find the materials in the dimension you wish to leave an anchor in. Trust me, I’ve seen too many novice Travelers waste their coin on “pre-attuned anchoring crystals” only to find themselves stranded between dimensions with nothing but expensive paperweights. I can neither confirm nor deny that this scam has also been used by most Travelers when funds are low. I would never do such a thing of course.

A proper anchor grows stronger with time and attention. That simple river stone you’ve meditated with daily for months becomes far more reliable than any elaborate golden idol you rushed through in a weekend. I once knew a Traveler whose most powerful anchor was a coffee mug—not magical, not rare, just a chipped ceramic cup from her favorite café on Earth like Dark Fable realm. She’d drunk from it every morning for three years before learning to travel, and it pulled her back through some of the nastiest dimensional storms I’ve ever witnessed. To this day, I have no clue where she keeps the mug hidden, but it continues to work for her when ever she needs to quickly return home.

Reminder - choose your anchor locations wisely a hidden anchor is often safer than a powerful one.

Dimensional Anchors
These are unique items and can be anything. Most heroes will often want to make sure it’s something that can’t be easily moved and is persistent. Attunement often takes seven days in the dimension, focusing on attuning, though could take longer depending on the type of anchor being built. Unintentional attunement often takes a month or more (such as living in a house there).

Having an anchor makes rolls to travel to the dimension easier. However, if another being gets possession of the anchor, they now have a sympathetic connection to the attuned, which can mean it may be easier for them to activate abilities against you, find the individual, or travel to them.

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Dimensional Dice

Dimensional Dice are almost universally hated across the Multiverse. I love mine. I keep two sets. The first set is a pair of d6 crystal dice. They were woven from light from the Arcadia planes, with each possible number attuned to eleven different planes. Seven is attuned to a place called Faerie Market, and is my most likely outcome. The others are tied to other planes, with two being a particularly dark part of the Hedge—the bone fairy colonies. Yes, the tooth fairies are just creatures who con children into thinking it’s all right to trade body parts for small meaningless trinkets. They are a subset race of the Bone fairies, creatures who feed on the bones of creatures across the multiverse, building their homes out of them, who enjoy hunting Travelers who get lost in the Hedge.

What are the Arcadia planes you ask? Well, those are a series of planes connected directly to the Hedge, often filled with “Others” that your world may call Fae, Faerie, Fairy (Really, isn’t it strange how you can start with F, add any number of vowels, sometimes add an R, and end with a vowel and you all know what we mean?), along with many trapped travelers who stumbled into their planes. They are as magical as they are dangerous, and sadly rolling a two has caused a series of unlikely adventures. This of course is why I keep a few bones always in some of my pockets. My favorite one to use is a Finger bone from Saint Forgotten, whose travels across the realms caused her to collect a following of faceless cultists (oddly, I seem to keep finding the same finger… so far they haven’t caught on). The story of why that bone exists is just as delicious as the bone itself. I would suggest you do the same, but maybe make sure it is the actual bone with an interesting story behind it.

Attuned dice come in sets or as individual dice with each possible combination being attuned to a specific realm. While travel with them is mostly safe, one should never try to cheat or trick the roll. Doing so will often invoke a location that is most hostile and exactly where you don’t want to be.

The other dice I keep in my many-pocketed coat is simply a twenty-sided die that it an artifice to create dimensional portals, though there are supposed to be other variants. It’s more about focusing on a location you want to go and rolling. If you do well, you may actually get to the dimension you can envision. Of course, you can attempt to travel to a place you have never been, but for most it rarely works out. I personally have just drawn a 20 on the 1 location, and they always seem to work for me. A fellow traveler and dimensional scientist Dr. Hael Spectrum still screams at me to this day that isn’t possible at all, but just because it isn’t possible doesn’t mean it doesn’t work - for me. What? Maybe that is just because it isn’t probable doesn’t mean it’s impossible! Yeah, same sentence. Either way, the higher your roll, the closer you end up to your destination, maybe only a jump away. The better you know the destination, the easier it is to get there. However, low rolls and lack of knowledge will surely find you on a curious adventure where survival is your only cost.

Attuned Set
The attuned set is a series of dice where the numbers are attuned to specific dimensions. While one must actually roll the dice, they at least know the possibilities of where they could end up. They can exist as single dice or sets of dice, increasing the number of options. The dice always seem to know when someone cheats, and doing so will often send people to a random hostile dimension. Attuned sets often have a period on how long they need to recharge between jumps. This can be a set time, or a random time relative to the dimension.

Random Set
Random sets are often considered cursed dice, as they appear like attuned dice. They will randomly open portals to locations, sometimes being the same, and sometimes not at all. When rolling a random set, the higher the roll the more likely the person will end up in a favorable dimension, and it’s even possible to end up in a dimension one is concentrating on if luck is good. These almost always come as twenty-sided dice. Someone who is skilled at dice games or lucky can modify the roll by up to +/- 3 as they choose. Though poor rolls are often amplified if one was attempting to modify the roll. In general, a safe rule to follow is a skill level difficulty.

• Impossible Challenge - Unknown to them with only name and simple description, distant dimension
• Exceptional Challenge - Know details about an unknown dimension, or unknown but nearby
• Difficult Challenge - Dimension is known, visited before, or known anchor item or person is in dimension
• Moderate Challenge - Dimension is known, and anchor item exists in dimension

Based on your success type, they may end up in the exact location or somewhere nearby. On failures, nothing happens, and in the worst case, could end up in dimensions that are hostile environments.

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Planar Chalk

As Dr. Hael Spectrum would say while he pushes his glasses up his nose, “aside from permanent portals or safe passages, planar chalk is the most logical and consistent way to travel. The mathematical principle of… ahhhh.” Admittedly, the principle isn’t “ahhh” - I just never waited long enough for him to spout nonsense about math, when there was a multiverse to see. Instead, I would grab his wrist and force him to jump, as talking about the principles of the multiverse is all well and good, but actually traveling the multiverse puts the talk and science to shame. Admittedly, Hael was possessed by a demon after one of those jumps, though I would like to think the possession was good for him, considering he continued with the symbiotic relationship well after it was needed. Granted it may have been impossible to separate them by that point…

Planar chalk, unlike the dice, requires two major components. One, that you know the dimensional rune for the world you are visiting, and two, you have a steady hand. Drawing the rune correctly on a wall or some other large surface will get you somewhere in that world. The key, of course, is that it is somewhere. If you want a specific location, you have to have a greater understanding of the arcana (or science if you prefer) and the ability to add modifier runes. Further, runes are not always static and over time they may migrate as the worlds themselves change. For example, if a rune is based on an outline of a continent of the world, but a large cataclysm happens changing that outline, the rune needs to be updated.

Overall, I find the runes both complicated and fascinating. With practice, you can get good at modifiers and get very exact locations. For a while, I had a rune that was specific to my apartment in one dimension. Using the chalk made it rather convenient to explore the place and then return home to my goldfish, a good book, and a known bed for sleep. Sadly, such places don’t work out for the long term. Rent these days… the corporate overlords can make the cost your soul if you aren’t careful.

Needless to say, people trade and sell runes like one would look for their favorite trading card. Highly valuable worlds and specific locations are rare, often worth a lot. While general and common worlds (such as to hub cities) are a dime a dozen. The chalk itself is of limited use, often only 5-10 uses per stick, but you can purchase the chalk by the box.

I guess I can give Hael that they are more reliable than dice, at least for most people, but you’d better have a steady hand.

Planar Chalk
Planar Chalk is a limited-use artifice with 5-10 charges per stick. After being used, the stick just acts like normal chalk with no distinguishing characteristics. Additionally, players must roll against their Brains to first construct the rune (with any modifiers), and then roll Agility to draw the actual runes accurately. Level of success or failure may determine correct jump locations, failed jumps, or jumps to unintended locations or worlds.

Rune Trading: Dimensional runes can be bought, sold, or traded like valuable commodities. Simple hub city runes are common and inexpensive, while specific location runes (especially to desirable or dangerous worlds) can be extremely valuable. Runes may become obsolete if the target dimension undergoes significant changes.

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World Cards

In addition to my dice and some chalk, I also carry around a set of cards. Actually, I keep multiple sets of cards, each with their own special significance (I do enjoy telling a fortune or two in my travels), but there is a specific set that helps me travel to various worlds. This set of cards consists of pictures of strange and bizarre places. A tavern in a cyberpunk reality, a tree on a hill in a high fantasy realm, a floating island in a world of airships and wonder are just a few to name. To the uninformed, this deck would appear as simply a collection of small art pieces. Arguably, it could have been an art book, pictures on the wall of a museum, or any other form of art. I just like to call them “cards” because a deck of cards is extremely useful to have.

As this artwork is woven into existence, a passage to the realm is created. To activate the artwork, let your mind be in both places at once, and let the artwork draw you in. A more terrifying prospect than it sounds, especially since living paintings are a risk. Never heard of a living painting? Imagine being pulled into a realm, only to be pulled into a creature’s stomach to be eaten and digested. A clever disguise, and something to avoid.

Either way, these cards are excellent ways to have easy connections between realms. They are consistent, safe, and extremely hard to find. In truth, it takes someone who is an expert in weaving space-time in addition to having artistic talent. The problem is authenticating them can be rather difficult, so you must be wary of anyone promising cheap dimensional doorways.

It should also be noted these cards aren’t just for other worlds or dimensions. They could even be locations on the same world. I once had a house that was made up of a single apartment in a city. Instead of filling that room with furniture, I had paintings of other locations around the world. Each location was another apartment I rented. This allowed me to have a distributed house spread across all my favorite places. I did have to make sure to give command words to each location, but overall, it was a fun place to live. I could take advantage of cheaper locations while also having immediate access to more expensive but nice locations. The landlords never did figure out why I was paying rent on so many places I never seemed to visit.

Either way, world cards are great objects to have, if you can find ones that actually work and don’t try to eat you alive.

World Cards / Dimensional Art
Consistent portals can be crafted as artifice requiring mastery in Space-Time abilities and skill in painting or drawing. They can have unlimited uses with recharge conditions, or be limited-use items. Each card’s power varies greatly depending on the skill of its creator and the complexity of its destination.

Art Cryptic: These creatures are known to mask themselves as artwork, especially dimensional art. When someone ventures too close, they end up eaten by the art critic after being pulled into their realm. Some critics will form colonies (often in museums). While daunting at first, colonies create a shared world allowing someone to jump painting to painting, hoping for a way out. Rarely do they find one. The key to identifying an Art Cryptic is that their “artwork” always depicts scenes that are slightly too perfect, too inviting - like a trap baited with exactly what the viewer most wants to see.

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Useful Nicknacks

While the travel items are just subset of many, I also wanted to mention some important trinkets that can help improve travel across the realms. These are just a subset of many, but some of the ones I find most useful for my travels.

Echo Stones

Echo stones… honestly sounds so much better than walkie-talkie. Seriously, who came up with that name? Imagine whoever named those came up with names for other things: choppy-sloppy for garbage disposals, chilly-filly for refrigerators, washy-splashy for washing machines, diggy-piggy for a shovel, and a cuppy-uppy which I will leave to your imagination. Either way, I digress. An echo stone is a similar item, but has the distinct property to work across realms. Two items (often stones, but could be actual phones or walkie-talkies) are bound together. For the scientists, yes, quantum entanglement is a thing. Now, these items react to each other, and talking into one will let your voice carry across dimensions — an “echo” of sorts. The person with the other item can then respond.

This of course isn’t secure, and can risk other types of interference, so the greater the distance the more risk of interference. However, for quick messages, short discussions, and non-private interactions they are extremely useful items to have. While I have heard rumors of more generalized stones that broadcast across dimensions, I have never come across them in my travels. Every time I came close, I found only destruction, which makes me think there is something in the dimensions that dislikes open communication between the realms. Perhaps certain entities prefer their privacy, or maybe widespread dimensional chatter attracts unwanted attention from things that hunt between worlds. Thankfully, I haven’t heard of any issues with simple paired echo stones, but it’s something to keep in mind.

A word of caution: always establish a code word or phrase with your echo stone partner before separating. Shapeshifters, dimensional mimics, and other unpleasant creatures have been known to intercept communications and impersonate the person on the other end. Trust me, you don’t want to follow directions from something pretending to be your ally, especially when those directions lead you straight into a trap.

Echo Stones
Paired devices that allow for direct communication across the realms. However, there is a chance of them failing or the conversation being listened in on by certain creatures. The further apart the paired stones are (both in distance and dimensional separation), the higher the chance of interference, eavesdropping, or complete communication failure.

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Fae Coins & Goblin Banks

Money is, sadly, a multi-dimensional annoyance. At least the idea of trading something for goods and services rendered. Some dimensions go so far as to make it an outright lie that ruins lives (this is called “capitalism,” though economists insist it’s more complicated than that). However, as a dimensional traveler, worry not! There exists something infinitely more convenient: Fae Coins.

Well, not really coins… it depends entirely on which world you happen to be visiting at the time. What you’re actually acquiring is a small enchanted pouch tied directly to the Goblin Banking Consortium, whose branches are spread across every dimension worth visiting and quite a few that aren’t. Yes, goblins are everywhere, and yes, they do have a complete monopoly on interdimensional banking. Before you ask how this happened, consider that goblins invented compound interest approximately three thousand years before most species discovered fire, which explains quite a lot about the current state of things.

As you reach into your fae coin pouch, you’ll find it contains exactly the type of currency needed for your current dimension. Credit chips for cyberpunk metropolises, bottle caps for post-apocalyptic wastelands, platinum coins for high fantasy realms, and never electrum coins. Only real finances, not myths that don’t exist. Really, have ever seen or used an electrum coin? No! It is in all the conversion tables, but no one really uses them. Anyway, placing funds into the pouch automatically deposits them into your account, complete with a tiny receipt that materializes briefly before dissolving into sparkles.

These pouches won’t work everywhere, mind you. Worlds that require monetary chips embedded directly into brain stems are best avoided entirely (trust me on this), and they’re useless in true barter economies where your only currency is how well you can trade turnips for pig feed. We shouldn’t get started on places like the Hedge that tends to trade in favors and body parts. But any world with an established monetary system inevitably has goblins, and where there are goblins, there are goblin banks with their ingenious pouches designed to make multiversal commerce slightly less likely to drive you completely mad. Naturally, I never completely kept all my money in the pouch. If you do that, the exchange fees will eat you alive!

Fae Coins and Goblin Banks

Goblin banks exist across the multiverse. For a modest fee (goblins are nothing if not consistent), they’ll issue a traveler’s pouch - commonly called “Fae Coins”. Money placed into or removed from the bag goes directly to and from the goblin banking account, complete with real-time currency conversion at “competitive” exchange rates. For additional security (and an additionally high fee), these bags can be biometrically encoded so only authorized users have access.

Warning: Fees apply if mimic coins are deposited. Goblin Bank Corporation is not responsible for mimic infestations, tooth marks on valuable possessions, or the existential crisis that comes from discovering your life savings have developed a taste for adventurers.

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Holding Containers

Often called Bags of Holding in some worlds, I wanted to generalize the idea of any container that holds an extra-dimensional space. Travel across the realms is often limited by what you can carry, so having the ability to carry more than what seems possible works wonders. It seems like there’s a universal constant that while these containers contain their own subliminal dimensions, they don’t have issues crossing the dimensional realms. Now, make sure you don’t limit yourself to a dreary bag.

Have I told you about my jacket yet? I love my jacket. I can turn it inside out, and it will often become another jacket completely. Throughout my travels, this feature has been extremely useful, as I can quickly change my attire without much issue. However, another feature is all the pockets. No matter the form, I have an unusual amount of pockets in the jacket. Each of these pockets holds small subliminal spaces (or maybe they connect to the same one. I’m not sure). Thus, I have a jacket of changing that is great at holding all that I need. Mind you, I have only seen one like this in all my wanderings, but I mention it to give you ideas as to what could be a useful holding container. I once had a friend who kept a container in their ring and intentionally kept weapons in that container. Thus they were always armed, as long as they had their ring. I had another friend who used to carry a lunch box of holding around. They especially liked to eat, so no one questioned it until they pulled out a great axe from the lunch box.

Also, you may be concerned about the creature called the Bag Man. I won’t say they don’t exist, and that I have never come across them. All I can say is make sure you always keep something in your container… so don’t get too clever, or have to many, or you may forget to keep it filled. Empty extra-dimensional spaces have a tendency to attract things you really don’t want to meet, and the Bag Man is just one of many entities that seem drawn to vacant pocket dimensions like moths to flame, except these moths have teeth and an appetite for anyone foolish enough to reach into what they now consider their territory.

Another word of caution. There is a world that exists as its own realm, Mad Mervel’s Miraculously Manageable Mimic Menagerie. This is a lovely place, which the caretaker - who is not at all mad, but completely crazy - takes care of mimics from across the realms. She has entire areas full of them, and often if you leave a bag of holding or other item unattended, one of these mimics may take its place. Coincidentally, they are good at holding items, and it’s just that things may vanish once in a while. They are especially good at giving coins that are also mimics, who then get into the normal coin population eating other coins while doubling in numbers. I sometimes wonder if this is how they reproduce, or a way Mervel tries to bring down capitalism (she will often rant, only using M words, about the evils of capitalist society). Either way, keep your bags close if you stumble into Mervel’s domain. At the same time, don’t be afraid to leave with a pet mimic. They are tragically misunderstood creatures that, if they are raised right, are quite lovely companions. In fact, the hat I often wear is an adoption from Mervel. They go by the name of “Baron Wigglesnoot3”. No that isn’t “the third”. It is actually a three. I am not sure how to say it either, but Baron is fiercely protective of me and overall a wonderful travel companion.

Containers of Holding
Vary greatly based on what is being used. Rings, often called “quicksilver rings,” are common for holding weapons. They get their name from how items flow into the ring, almost like they are made of quicksilver. Items with pockets of holding are common, though multiple pockets are often difficult to maintain. Bags are of course common, but so are small chests and pouches. Each item has its own weight and size limitations, but often 250 lbs and nine cubic yards of space is common. If the limit is exceeded, they are often known for exploding in spectacular ways.

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Psychic Paper

I am pleased to meet you! Did you know I have accumulated over a thousand titles, names, and job descriptions throughout my travels? While some of them are from legitimate times I attempted honest employment (horrible experience, do not recommend), most occurred when people simply assumed things about me. Purely not my fault. Why would they make such assumptions, you ask?

The answer lies in a delightful little device coveted by travelers across the multiverse: psychic paper. Often just a small scrap tucked into a nifty wallet that you can flip open with proper dramatic flair, this remarkable invention reacts to the viewer’s mind, helping influence them toward accepting whatever clever reason you have for being somewhere you absolutely shouldn’t be.

Need to get past security that only allows police officers? Congratulations, you’re now the visiting detective they’ve heard rumors about! Want access to that exclusive tower where only certified magicians are permitted? Why yes, you were personally invited to lecture the renowned Professor Maximilian Magical on advanced theoretical applications of practical impossibility!

The paper works by reading the viewer’s expectations and presenting exactly what they expect to see - provided your story is reasonably plausible and delivered with sufficient confidence. It won’t make you appear to be the Queen of England if you’re clearly a scruffy adventurer, but it might convince someone you’re her official representative if you dress the part and speak with authority. You may even be able to claim you are her scruffy nephew twice removed, but rarely is that helpful even for the actual nephews.

Sadly, psychic paper is both expensive and remarkably difficult to acquire. Most interdimensional black markets don’t carry it, and those that do charge prices that would make a goblin banker blush. However, dear traveler, I cannot recommend highly enough that you find yourself a piece of this clever dimensional hack. It could be your gateway into solving mysteries, accessing restricted knowledge, or even getting tickets to that sold-out concert everyone’s been talking about!

Psychic Paper

This device manifests appropriate credentials based on the user’s roleplaying and the situation at hand. When attempting to convince someone of your authority or credentials, the paper provides a +d12 bonus to Charm rolls. In many cases, if the preceding roleplay is sufficiently plausible and confident, no roll is required—the paper simply works, displaying exactly what the viewer expects to see.

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Shifter Threads

A good sense of style is essential if you’re going to be a proper dimensional traveler. Really, while the scruffy “housing-challenged” look is almost universal across realities, appropriate dress (or states of undress - there was one world I visited, the higher status you had, the less clothing you were expected to wear.) varies dramatically between cultures. This presents you with three possible approaches to wardrobe management.

Option One: Take your entire wardrobe with you, no matter where you travel. This is, of course, incredibly bulky and still quite limited. Even the most extensive personal collection can’t account for every possible cultural variation across infinite dimensions.

Option Two: Gain access to a subliminal plane where every possible outfit across time and space exists in perfect organization. While this represents a genuinely clever dimensional hack, the Costume Masters who maintain these repositories become extremely upset when items are removed without proper authorization. It’s called requisitions for a reason - if no one properly requisitions the items, the entire system becomes worthless bureaucratic theater. Still, if you’re fortunate enough to have such a rift in your closet, these can be incredibly useful (borrowing or with the correct paperwork). If you are really lucky, you’ll end up with exactly the right outfit every morning.

Option Three: The most common and practical approach is to obtain shifter clothing. These remarkable garments appear as appropriate attire for whatever realm you’re visiting, within reasonable limits, of course. If you’re dressed as a street merchant, don’t expect the threads to suddenly transform you into apparent nobility. But if you’re already wearing noble garb, the clothing will shift to match the local aristocratic style wherever you happen to materialize.

Each piece of shifter clothing typically works for a small band of related realms, so your collection remains somewhat limited. But it’s certainly better than hauling seventeen steamer trunks through dimensional portals or trying to explain to local authorities why you’re wearing what appears to be your pajamas to their sacred coronation ceremony. Actually, I do recommend that. It was a blast, and the queen and I even ended up in a pillow fight.

How does it work? I believe the mechanism is similar to psychic paper, though considerably less powerful. You simply look correct to the local inhabitants, whether you’re actually wearing their traditional garments or not. The clothing doesn’t physically change. It just appears to observers that it has. Rather elegant, actually, and far more reliable than trying to research proper etiquette for every dimension you plan to visit.

Shifter Threads

Clothing enchanted to appear as appropriate attire for specific realms or dimensional clusters. Each garment is typically attuned to 3-5 related worlds. The clothing doesn’t physically transform but creates a mild illusion that makes the wearer appear properly dressed according to local customs. The effect maintains the general social status implied by the original outfit—merchant clothes appear as local merchant attire, noble garments shift to local aristocratic fashion, etc.

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Travel Blocker

Now, I may or may not have jumped dimensions while attempting to flee from… well, let’s not discuss exactly what I was running from. The important lesson here is that sometimes the creatures pursuing you can also jump between realms, which makes dimensional travel considerably less useful as an escape strategy. Having something with tentacles and too many teeth follow you across three different realities really puts a damper on your day.

Thankfully, travel blockers come in all shapes and sizes, and I consider them essential equipment for any sensible traveler. What are they? Simply put, they’re devices that prevent dimensional travel within a specific area for a predetermined amount of time. Think of them as interdimensional “Do Not Disturb” signs with actual enforcement mechanisms.

The most common variety, and the type I personally carry, are no larger than caltrops and, in fact, look exactly like caltrops to casual observation. I drop one the moment I arrive at a new location, and it prevents anyone else from dimensional-jumping to that spot for precisely 29.6 minutes. This happens to be the exact amount of time required for dimensional decay to take effect and prevent magical tracking, a delightfully convenient coincidence that’s saved my life more times than I care to count. It’s usually enough time to locate the nearest conventional transportation and put some proper distance between myself and whatever unpleasant thing was chasing me.

Larger devices certainly exist, ranging from room-sized units to massive installations that can lock down entire city districts. Some are even powered by permanent energy sources, allowing governments and security-conscious organizations to maintain no-travel zones around sensitive locations indefinitely. Banks love these things, as do paranoid dictators and anyone who’s tired of uninvited dimensional visitors appearing in their private chambers.

One must be cautious, however, travel blockers are decidedly double-edged tools. What prevents your enemies from following you also prevents you from leaving if the situation turns sour. I’ve seen more than one clever escape plan ruined by someone activating a blocker at precisely the wrong moment. Always know where the nearest conventional exits are before deploying these devices, because when they’re active, those exits become your only exits.

Travel Blocker

Devices that prevent interdimensional travel within a specified area for a set duration. Available in various sizes and power levels, with costs increasing exponentially for larger coverage areas and longer durations. Small personal devices typically cover a 30-foot radius for 20-30 minutes, while larger installations can affect areas measured in miles and operate indefinitely with proper power sources. Once activated, no dimensional travel (in or out) is possible within the affected zone until the device deactivates or is destroyed.

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Veil Lens

The Veil is a powerful thing. Have I not mentioned it before? The multiverse isn’t all elves, dwarves, and technological swarms, you know. Much of it is surprisingly mundane in terms of racial diversity, and for some inexplicable reason, the species you call “human” seems to be frighteningly prolific across dimensions (even though they often go by different names on other worlds—“Terrans,” “Sol-spawn,” “those bipedal nuisances,” and so forth).

When you enter a world that hosts only a single dominant species, whether that’s a planet of evolved apes, descendants of dragons, or something even more peculiar, a mystical phenomenon known as the Veil automatically takes effect. To the inhabitants of that world, you’ll appear as a member of their local species, complete with appropriate physical characteristics and cultural markers. This veil is most common on worlds without overt magic, where it serves the dual purpose of hiding both your true species and concealing any magical abilities you might possess from the local population.

This doesn’t mean there isn’t actually a plethora of magical beings scattered throughout such worlds. It’s simply that the locals genuinely believe there aren’t any. The Veil is remarkably thorough in maintaining this collective delusion, which can be both convenient for blending in and absolutely maddening when you’re trying to locate other supernatural entities.

However, it’s often far better to see things as they truly are rather than as they appear to be. A Veil Lens is a device that allows you to perceive the world without the Veil’s influence. It could be a monocle, a pair of spectacles, a crystal pendant, or even a stone with a hole worn through it. When you peer through it, the mystical camouflage drops away, revealing what’s actually standing in front of you.

This proves extremely useful when you’re trying to locate, say, a local demon who’s been hiding as a barista at the neighborhood Nero’s Roasters. Your only clue might be that the coffee is literally hot as the fires of perdition, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the demon is the barista. Of course, if the barista’s name happens to be Larry, short for Lareth’nazgul the Soul Burner, that should have been obvious even without the lens. Sometimes the signs are right there if you know how to look. Larry is fine by the way. Learned how to make coffee without it burning, and he gave his job as Soul Burner. Now he only burns the occasional beans, but ever so rarely. Opened his own coffee shop, called Larry’s.

Veil Lens

A device that allows the user to see through the Veil while looking through it, revealing the true forms of people, creatures, and magical phenomena that would otherwise appear mundane. Only affects the natural Veil that conceals supernatural elements on low-magic worlds. Does not dispel intentional illusions, magical disguises, or other forms of deliberate concealment.

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Other Ways To Travel

The travel tools I previously listed above are items you can carry with you, but they’re by no means the only ways to traverse the various realms, worlds, and cosmic neighborhoods. There are many other methods for dimensional travel. Hitchhiking is always possible, as are kidnappings, forced relocations, and those delightfully unexpected accidental slips through reality’s cracks. I must admit, I’m rather fond of the hitchhiking method myself. It’s gotten me to some of the most wondrous and dangerous places across the multiverse, though I wouldn’t recommend it for travelers with delicate constitutions.

Aether Ships

Imagine a sea of stars - an Aetheric Expanse where ships sail on waves of crystallized light and magic. These vessels maintain their own atmosphere and life support, allowing entire fleets to journey from world to world across currents of pure possibility. The ships themselves are as varied as the species that build them.

Imagine other vessels that never conceived of earthly seas but always knew the stars as their natural domain. Spherical craft that ride the backs of colossal space squids, their crews cheerfully devouring other ships along the way (the squids do the devouring, not the crews—usually). Picture ships that resemble nothing more than tumbling asteroids, bounding through space with random eyes that serve as portholes for their occupants, blinking at passing travelers with what might be curiosity or might be hunger.

These represent just a few of the countless ship designs that navigate the Aetheric Expanse and similar “pocket universe” regions. These are areas where magic and technology intertwine so thoroughly that it becomes possible to drift from one world to the next like islands in an archipelago of stars. Such regions create natural trading ports filled with commerce, cultural exchange, and the occasional pirate crew hoping to relieve you of your cargo. And possibly your ship, your crew, and your comfortable assumptions about physics.

As for ship design, the variety is truly staggering. The most familiar vessels resemble traditional seafaring ships, complete with sails that catch currents of solidified starlight instead of wind. However, many spacefaring races have never known terrestrial oceans, so their ships rarely resemble anything a sailor would recognize. I’ve seen vessels that look like enormous flowers, mechanical whales, crystalline cities, and at least one that appeared to be a very large, very angry fish with windows.

All Aether Ships share one crucial limitation: they’re restricted to regions where aetheric currents flow freely. These magical streams carry vessels across vast distances in remarkably short time, but they don’t extend everywhere. Once you reach void space, the empty regions between aetheric zones, you must rely on conventional faster-than-light travel, space folding, or other means of propulsion. Out there, things are really far apart, and the usual shortcuts simply don’t exist beyond the occasional wormhole.

Oddly enough, most ships capable of navigating void space are completely incapable of sailing aetheric currents. The magical flows play absolute havoc with their engines, causing everything from minor malfunctions to spectacular explosions. This technological incompatibility means that at the edges of aetheric space, you’ll find bustling border stations and trading posts catering to travelers who need to switch between vessel types. These frontier ports are excellent places to find passage, trade exotic goods, or simply enjoy a drink while watching the two different kinds of ships try to figure out how the other type actually works.

Aether Ships

Vessels designed to navigate aetheric currents - magical streams that exist only in certain regions of space. Most of the universe consists of void space, which requires ships capable of faster-than-light travel or space-folding technology. Aetheric currents allow ships to traverse vast distances quickly, but the two propulsion methods are mutually incompatible. Void-capable ships suffer system failures in aetheric currents, while aether ships become stranded in void space. Occasional pockets of void space can trap aether vessels, while unexpected aetheric currents can capture and carry off void ships, leading to some very confused crews on both sides.

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Gates

Throughout the multiverse, there exists a guild known as the Navigators. They’re renowned for operating Aether ships, void vessels, and most importantly, Gates. No, these aren’t the sort of gates that prevent your neighbors from wandering into your back garden uninvited. These are interdimensional portals that create permanent connections between two fixed points across space and time, a feat that would be impressive enough if the universe had the courtesy to hold still for five minutes.

The actual ability to create and maintain such gates is extraordinarily difficult, primarily because nothing in the vast cosmos is truly static. Everything is constantly moving along predetermined courses toward unknown destinations - planets orbit stars, stars drift through galaxies, galaxies hurtle through space, and the very fabric of reality shifts and warps with the passage of time. Maintaining a stable portal between two points that are both moving in different directions at incomprehensible speeds requires mathematical precision that would make most scholars weep.

The Navigators seem to have mastered this impossible technology, though they charge absolutely exorbitant fees for gate usage. Of course, they’ll also sell you ships, hire out individual Navigator services, or even negotiate exclusive contracts - all for the right price, naturally. Most Navigators are dedicated to the Guild shortly after birth and serve the organization throughout their lives, learning the complex arts of dimensional mathematics and portal maintenance from childhood. I will say, you may think they would be great at a party, but really, they aren’t. I am not sure they are trained in the basic civilities of drinks, games, and merriment.

Occasionally, you might encounter a Navigator known as a “Wild Star”, someone born to Navigator parents who chose to leave the Guild and strike out on their own. These individuals possess the natural talents of their lineage but lack access to the Guild’s resources, including their precious gates. Wild Stars make for interesting traveling companions, though they tend to carry a certain wistful melancholy about the paths they’ve chosen not to take.

I admit, I find the entire organization absolutely fascinating, and I may discuss them in greater detail later. They represent one of only a handful of organizations that exist simultaneously across multiple dimensions which is a feat nearly as impressive as their gate technology, and considerably more politically complex.

Gate commerce, while seemingly the perfect solution to interdimensional trade, remains surprisingly rare. Even without the Navigator Guild’s monopolistic control, maintaining an active portal between two worlds often leads to conflict unless the connection is carefully monitored and controlled. Unrestricted gates have a nasty tendency to become invasion routes, smuggling conduits, or pathways for unwanted entities that really should stay on their side of reality. Most governments view permanent portals with the same enthusiasm they’d show for leaving their capital city’s front doors wide open with a sign reading “Please Invade Us At Your Convenience.”

Gates

Permanent interdimensional portals created and maintained by the Navigator Guild. These connect two fixed points across space and dimensions, requiring constant recalibration to account for planetary movement and dimensional drift. Usage fees are extremely high, and the Guild maintains strict control over gate access. Independent gate creation is theoretically possible but requires advanced knowledge of dimensional mathematics and constant maintenance to prevent portal collapse or dangerous instabilities.

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The Hedge

One cannot discuss paths of interdimensional travel without addressing the Hedge. You may wonder why it’s called “the Hedge”? Well, to most people it actually appears as exactly that: an endless maze of thorny bushes, overgrown garden paths, or walks through seemingly pleasant forests. The key word here is “seemingly,” because in this particular forest, everything is actively trying to either kill you, drive you completely insane, or steal your name and identity for their own nefarious purposes. Sometimes all three at once, if you’re particularly unlucky.

Given the considerable dangers inherent in Hedge travel, it’s really only suitable for insane mages seeking to jump between locations within their own world, or those brave (or foolish) enough to attempt passage to the Arcadian realms, what some call the Faerie lands. While travel to Dark Fable or Light Fable realms is theoretically possible through the Hedge, such journeys typically happen by accident rather than design, and the travelers rarely return unchanged. Additionally, one could potentially reach completely different worlds through Hedge paths, but such routes are either purely accidental discoveries or fraught with dangers so extreme that attempting them would constitute genuine madness.

This leads to the crucial question: how does one safely traverse the Hedge? The answer is deceptively simple: by planning extensively and paying the right prices to the right entities.

There are indeed creatures who inhabit the Hedge and make their living helping wayward travelers navigate its treacherous paths. However, your conventional currency has absolutely no meaning to them. They trade exclusively in favors, memories, trinkets with personal significance, and stranger currencies still. Some of the most commonly encountered are the Tooth Faeries. They are smaller, more commercially-minded versions of the absolutely dreaded Bone Eaters who lurk deeper in the thorns.

The Tooth Faeries will negotiate safe passage in exchange for teeth, preferably baby teeth, preferably ones lost naturally and kept for sentimental reasons. Yes, sentiment matters as much as the teeth. So just pulling out your own tooth will work, the negotiation may be harder. Additionally, you must be extraordinarily careful in how you word such agreements. If you phrase your request incorrectly, they might cheerfully guide you past the Bone Eater nests as part of your “scenic route.” And if you foolishly ask for mere “passage” rather than specifically “safe passage,” well, it’s hardly their fault when you end up as something’s dinner. They fulfilled their contract to the letter, after all, and if they are able to claim your other teeth in addition to the ones offered, that is a bonus for them.

Honestly, dealing with anyone in the Hedge is remarkably similar to negotiating with particularly pedantic lawyers. Every word matters, each clause can be twisted, and ambiguity will inevitably work against you. You might wonder why they’re all so obsessively literal, but the truth is, they genuinely don’t know any different. It’s simply how the Hedge shapes those who dwell within its boundaries for extended periods.

The only relatively “easy” path through the Hedge leads to the Night Market - also called the Faerie Market. This is because the Markets themselves provide guides for travelers, recognizing that commerce is commerce regardless of the dimensional boundaries involved. If you find yourself in a world searching for passage to the famed Night Market, seek out an authorized guide. First, ensure they possess the correct token for the current lunar cycle. Second, have your payment ready. The contract is sealed before departure, guaranteeing safe passage to your destination. Well, mostly safe. Nothing in the Hedge comes with absolute guarantees, and “mostly safe” represents the best odds you’re likely to get.

What is this mysterious token, you ask? Well, I can’t reveal all the secrets of interdimensional travel in one sitting, and truthfully, the token changes with every full moon anyway. Your best bet is to consult with a local bird maven. I’m reliably informed that ravens almost always know the current token, though getting them to share this information typically requires its own negotiations and possibly a shiny trinket or two.

The Hedge

A dangerous interdimensional pathway that appears as overgrown gardens, hedge mazes, or dark forests. Primarily used for travel within the same world or to Faerie realms. Most inhabitants of the Hedge interpret agreements with absolute literality—ambiguous wording in contracts or requests for aid can have deadly consequences. Safe passage requires specific negotiations with Hedge dwellers, typically involving unusual currencies like baby teeth, personal memories, or meaningful trinkets. The safest routes lead to the Markets, where professional guides operate under standardized contracts.

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Mirror Realm

Another realm I would be remiss not to mention is the Mirror Realm, though the owner of said realm may be slightly annoyed that I’m discussing it publicly. I’m using it primarily as an example of a broader category of interconnected travel realms. There’s a realm consisting entirely of doors, another that’s nothing but interconnected roads stretching across infinity, and then there’s the infamous Mirror Realm.

The Mirror Realm should not be confused with mirror realms - note the subtle but crucial distinction. Some people refer to Dark Fable and Light Fable worlds as “mirror verses” or “mirror realms.” There are even perfect duplicates of most worlds that seem to exist on the opposite side of looking glasses throughout the multiverse. The Mirror Realm, however, exists between these reflections - a world that occupies the space between the reflection and what exists on the other side of the glass.

It’s a dimension controlled entirely by a mischievous and slightly sadistic being who was either trapped there eons ago or represents a manifestation of the realm’s own sentience. I’ve never been entirely certain which, and frankly, I’m not sure the distinction matters much from a practical standpoint. The entity responds to various names, none of which I’ll repeat here for reasons of personal safety and professional courtesy.

If you can capture this being’s attention, and survive the experience, they can open pathways between worlds through any reflective surface. Sometimes these paths manifest as Möbius strips lined with doors, other times as twisting corridors of mirrors reflecting infinitely inward. In all cases, you enter through one reflection and emerge from another. Any reflection, anywhere in the multiverse, as long as the owner finds your destination amusing or profitable.

However, you must be extraordinarily careful when dealing with Mirror Realm travel. Perhaps it would be best if I illustrated the dangers through recounting a seminar I attended once. Why there was a professional presentation about Mirror Realm navigation, I cannot say, but the demonstration proved… educational.

The presenter stood on stage before a group of roughly forty attendees, wearing a crisp suit with a lab coat draped over his shoulders like some sort of deranged anime villain. He maintained only the slightest curve to his lips as he spoke about traversing the realm, his eyes holding that peculiar glint that suggested intimate familiarity with dangerous knowledge.

“I have provided you all with devices that will activate the mirrors,” he announced, gesturing to small pocket-watch objects we’d been given upon arrival. “You will be granted safe passage by stepping through the activated reflections.”

However, this particular group had grown tired of lengthy presentations, and one fool, let’s call him Jack, interrupted with obvious impatience. “Great, can we go now? So we step through the mirror and we’re safe. Good to know.”

For a brief moment, light seemed to reflect unnaturally off the presenter’s eyes, and I could tell Jack had made a serious error in judgment. The presenter’s smile became razor-thin.

“I believe your name is Jack,” he said with deceptive mildness. Jack seemed surprised the presenter knew his name, apparently forgetting we all wore name tags. I had wisely written only a single letter on mine.

“Yeah, Jack. What’s it to you?” Another flash of that unnatural light in the presenter’s eyes. Jack was clearly an idiot, but like most idiots, he remained blissfully unaware of his condition. A condition that is often contagious, so best to avoid idiots unless you too wish to catch the disease of being an idiot and spreading it.

“Please come up here, Jack. I’d like you to describe what you see in this mirror.”

Jack swaggered onto the stage, smirking with misplaced confidence. “I see a pretty good-looking guy in the mirror. You know… myself.”

“Correct. Now, if you step through this mirror, you’ll emerge from the other one positioned on this stage. Care to demonstrate?”

Jack did exactly that, stepping through with typical bravado. When he emerged from the second mirror, he appeared slightly chilled and damp but shook off the sensation quickly. The transit had worked perfectly, seamless travel between the two mirrors.

“Easy peasy,” Jack announced with insufferable smugness. “Can we go now? I have a date with a secretary tonight.” I seriously doubted any the self-respecting secretaries in the Company would have entertained him, but that wasn’t the point.

“Not so fast,” the presenter said, raising one finger. A crack appeared in the mirror, just barely visible, roughly where Jack’s hand had been reflected. It was noticeable if you knew to look for it, but subtle enough that most wouldn’t notice.

“What do you see now?” the presenter asked.

Jack glanced at his reflection dismissively. “I still see myself. Same good-looking guy with the same hot date.” He winked at several women in the audience, most of whom turned away in embarrassment or disgust.

“Excellent. Please step through once more, and then we can all conclude today’s demonstration.”

I wanted to warn him, something about the presenter’s growing smile suggested imminent disaster, but Jack stepped forward before I could voice my concerns. I didn’t know exactly what would happen, but the predatory gleam in the presenter’s eyes made it clear that nothing good awaited poor, stupid Jack.

He was too quick, too confident, too foolish. Jack emerged from the second mirror with his hand severed cleanly from his body. His screams echoed throughout the room.

“Quiet,” the presenter commanded with casual authority. His screams quickly subsided to whimpering as he stared at the stump where his hand had been and the detached appendage lying on the stage floor. “As you can all observe, precision is paramount. The reflection must be absolutely perfect. If it’s warped, cracked, or broken in any way, you will match that imperfection when you exit the mirror. In this case—” He gestured elegantly at Jack’s severed hand. “—a rather clean amputation.”

He paused for dramatic effect, which proved particularly effective since we sat in horrified silence while Jack swayed behind him, clutching his wounded arm.

“Now then, let’s give Jack a hand,” the presenter continued with grotesque cheerfulness and a small golf clap, “and you can all return to your regularly scheduled activities.”

That was the first time I witnessed the owner of the Mirror Realm smile with genuine pleasure, and I can confidently state it’s not an expression you want to see directed at you. Though after working with him, and occasionally for him, over the years, we developed what I suppose could be called a collegial relationship. He’s sadistic rather than evil, I’ve learned. Well, mostly not world-devouring evil, at any rate. Maybe just slightly evil.

The Mirror Realm and others like it definitely exist throughout the multiverse. If you can negotiate safe passage, by all means take advantage of their services. But finding these realms and securing safe transit represents its own considerable journey; one that requires careful preparation, precise language, and a healthy respect for entities whose idea of humor tends toward the permanently disfiguring.

Travel Realms

Specialized dimensions that exist primarily to facilitate travel between other worlds and planes. Most are ruled by powerful entities with their own agendas and peculiar senses of humor. Safe passage typically requires specific negotiations, tokens, or payments that vary by realm and ruler. Commonly known travel realms include the Mirror Realm (travel through reflections, requires perfect mirror surfaces), the Door Realm (infinite doors leading everywhere, requires proper keys), and the High Road (mystical pathways, requires tribute to the Road Wardens). All travel realms should be approached with extreme caution.

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Shadow and Spirit Realms Travel

Since the Shadow and Spirit realms exist as overlapping dimensions across all worlds, it is indeed possible to use them for interdimensional travel. The significant problem is that such journeys can either require considerable time and preparation, or happen entirely by accident—often with consequences you never intended.

The Long Road Through Eternity

For the deliberate, time-intensive version of Shadow and Spirit realm travel, you must understand that these dimensions contain vast expanses of ethereal landscape that exist between the worlds. If you possess the knowledge and courage to navigate these spaces, you may discover gateways leading to other realms entirely. There are even specialized caravans that transport travelers across these otherworldly distances, guiding them safely to the interdimensional portals scattered throughout the shadow-paths.

The catch, because there’s always a catch, is that the creatures who guard these portals are the portals themselves. These ancient beings serve as living gateways between worlds, and they must be willing to allow your passage. Fortunately, many prove quite reasonable in their negotiations, accepting payments in memories, dreams, or small pieces of your life force in exchange for safe transit. It’s rather like paying a toll, except the toll booth occasionally demands your childhood memory of your first pet instead of coins.

While four or five months of travel through ethereal landscapes might seem excessive, it’s considerably faster than attempting to fly conventional ships across light-years of void space. The journey becomes almost pleasant once you adjust to the strange physics and the way time moves differently in the spirit/shadow-paths. Days can pass like minutes, or minutes can stretch into subjective hours of contemplation and wonder.

However, there’s a crucial limitation to this method: you can only bring what you can physically carry. Caravan ships, wagons, vehicles, and other large inanimate objects simply cannot shift into the Shadow and Spirit realms. While personal possessions like clothing, weapons, and small tools seem to make the transition without difficulty, larger items never manage the dimensional crossing. Instead, you’ll sometimes find yourself approached by a cheerful spirit announcing that they were the essence of your wagon and are delighted to finally meet you in person.

You must also understand that the paths through both realms are extraordinarily dangerous - nearly as perilous as the infamous Hedge, though in different ways. There are spirits that will steal your face, leaving you with smooth skin where features should be. Entire regions exist where travelers forget who they are, wandering the vast expanse as nameless shades with no identity or memory of their former lives. Trickster spirits and shadow demons will devour your soul while forcing you to watch the process, treating your spiritual destruction as entertainment.

While the organized caravans provide relative safety through experienced guides and protective rituals, it’s always wise to approach such journeys with appropriate caution and perhaps a few backup plans for preserving your essential self.

Accidental Interdimensional Tourism

The other method of Shadow and Spirit realm travel happens entirely by accident and typically involves stumbling into places specifically meant for the realms’ natural inhabitants. These nexus points serve as gathering places, sanctuaries, or social hubs for spirits and shadow-dwellers—locations where mortals are decidedly unwelcome and usually unaware of the danger they’re in.

Let me illustrate this with a common example: Imagine discovering a mysterious bathhouse that appears only when the moon is hidden from view. This establishment serves as a retreat for spirits seeking respite from their otherworldly duties. It is a place for relaxation, gossip, and the sort of supernatural socializing that doesn’t translate well to mortal understanding. As a living human, you have no business being there, but let’s say you accidentally wander inside during your travels.

The next morning, wisely deciding to leave before the spirits discover your unauthorized presence, you exit through what appears to be the same door you entered. However, and this is where interdimensional geography becomes problematic, that door is actually connected to an entirely different realm. You step out expecting to find the familiar world you left behind, only to discover you’ve emerged in a Light Fable realm where the grass sings lullabies and the trees offer helpful directions, or perhaps a Dark Fable world where the shadows whisper threats and the flowers have rather too many teeth.

Congratulations! You’ve just achieved interdimensional travel, avoided detection by spirits who would have been considerably upset about your trespassing, and probably gained a story that no one will believe when you eventually make it home. The downside is that you now need to figure out how to get back, and the return journey rarely proves as simple as the accidental departure.

Shadow and Spirit Realm Travel

Two methods exist for using these overlapping dimensions for interdimensional travel:

Caravan Travel: Organized expeditions lasting 4-5 months or even years through ethereal landscapes, guided by experienced navigators. Requires negotiation with portal guardians who are living gateways between worlds. Only items that can be personally carried make the transition—larger objects are left behind, sometimes replaced by their “spirit essence.” Extremely dangerous without proper guides and protection.

Accidental Transit: Unintended travel through nexus points meant for realm inhabitants. Often involves entering spirit gathering places (bathhouses, markets, temples) and exiting through different doorways that lead to other dimensions. Destination is unpredictable and return journey is not guaranteed. Generally safer than deliberate exploration (if you are not caught) but offers no control over where you end up.

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These are just a few of the many ways to travel. My suggestion, find a hub city as soon as possible, and prepare yourself. Prepared Travelers are alive travelers, and the multiverse eats the unprepared… often literally.

Hubs and Sanctuaries