Reality is far more malleable than you may think.

The laws of physics can be altered.

The world may be both billions of years old and also only a few thousand. It’s not a matter of who you ask; it may actually be that way.

Can only two people populate an entire planet? Of course that’s completely impossible… except when it happens.

Under certain conditions the impossible can become possible.

Each universe resides in its own dimension.

Each dimension is like a soap bubble floating in the wind.

Inside each soap bubble, a Supreme Being exists, born during the dimension’s creation. In a way, perhaps, it could be considered sentient. Although it is self-aware, it does not think, because it knows. It knows everything in the universe, because it is everything in the universe.

It has one job, one reason for existence.

Everything it does is to preserve its bubble, to keep itself balanced.

Sometimes a Supreme Being creates sentient entities to help keep the balance.

Sometimes those entities create life, and with it, people.

Those people tend to call the entities, “Gods”, even though each one is merely a tiny part of a much greater whole.

A God of Good, along with a God of Evil. A God of Law, and a God of Chaos. A God of Life, and a God of Death. Minor facet gods can appear, like the Goddess of Crops, and the God of Disease. Sometimes a god can be two facets, such as Law and Good. It doesn’t matter, as long as the all-important balance is kept.

And sometimes… two dimensions meet.

When that happens, the barrier where the two soap bubbles touch becomes thinner, and information, energy and even souls can transfer.

At that moment, all reality in each dimension changes.

If both dimensions are similar in size and “flavor”, then they become mirror-like, where Dimension A is where the North won the war, and Dimension B is where the South won the war, or where the Federation expanded peacefully through the galaxy in A, and the Empire conquered its way through the galaxy in B, and it has always been that way.

If Dimension A has a better “flavor”, then Dimension B becomes a twisted version of A. Perhaps B turns into a “looking glass” version with disappearing Cheshire Cats and giant talking drug-addicted caterpillars. Perhaps B turns into a dystopian version of A, with total war and devastation. Perhaps B becomes “Hell”, and its “demonic” inhabitants try to cross over and conquer the other, more prosperous dimension.

If the barrier is allowed to be breached enough, the walls between the two soap bubbles may come down, and the two dimensions (along with their Supreme Beings) merge to become one. When that happens, reality shifts again to a more normal, more stable footing, and it has always been that way.

Whenever two dimensions meet and connect, a certain kind of energy is released, and tends to collect in the smaller of the two. It is a chaotic type of energy, and if there’s enough of it reality in that dimension becomes extremely unstable. The laws of physics are forced to change into something much more basic, and suddenly it’s possible to have fantasy kingdoms with elves and fairies and zombies and Demon Lords and kidnapped princesses and the occasional summoned-or-reincarnated hero, and of course, it has always been that way.

The destabilizing, chaotic energy that can warp reality is called “magic”.

So what happens when multiple soap bubbles meet?

In Dimension M, an ordinary, boring human dies an ordinary, boring death while playing an MMO game.

Perhaps an exchange was made.

Perhaps a soul was carried over somewhere else.

Perhaps something was removed.

Perhaps something was added.

Meanwhile in Dimension E…

Teresa awoke with the dawn, the sun’s reflected light making its way into her room. In this world where an attack can come from anywhere, windows only invite invasion.

She gave her morning prayers to the Goddess Ilya while still wrapped in her blankets. Her room wasn’t freezing in the autumn weather, only cold enough that one would want to wear a sweater. The nipple-fort was well made, after all.

“Nipple-forts” are one of humanity's many answers to this world.

For there is magic here.

At any moment your home can be destroyed by monsters coming from the north, east, west, or south. Death can come from above, and it can come from below. Death can come from inside.

A nipple-fort is a defensive fortification of three rings: The central tower, where the important people live and where magic casters can fire their spells with the best line of sight; the inner ring, the slightly shorter wall where most of the residents live and which provides covering fire for attacks from above or inside; and the outer ring, which is the shortest of all and serves as the guards’ barracks and the first line of defense against attacks from land. All rooms are made compartmentalized with almost no windows, much like a medieval submarine, to protect against poisonous gases, sudden fires, or vaporous intruders. Underneath the fort is a cistern for keeping fresh water, and a special holding area for subterranean creatures: a welcoming gift for anyone or anything attempting to burrow in from below.

Viewed from above, the nipple-fort looks like a certain part of the anatomy, hence the name.

After thanking the Goddess Ilya for her daily spells, Teresa cranked cold water from the pump that was built into the floor into her wash basin that doubled as a bath during warmer times.

Lavender filled the air as she washed her body, burn scars and all, with the scented soap (a luxury around these parts) she got a month back from the last merchant caravan that passed through, still trying to keep her lethargic body warm. Quickly weaving her long blond hair into its usual ponytail knot with her cold fingers, she pulled out today’s clothes from the oak drawer by her bed and the tall white wooden cabinet that stood against the grayish-brown brick wall.

First to be worn was her “protection”, a soft black linen half-mask that was made to cover the ruined part of her face. No sense in scaring the children any more than she already does. After putting on the white long-sleeved woolen underwear blouse and the matching underwear leggings, she donned her blue-and-white nun’s habit. She hid her hair under her usual nun’s coif that covered her head.

Finally, she shrugged her way into her plate armor. It wasn’t a full set, the gauntlets and legs were missing and the helmet didn’t fit her anymore, but that was okay. She preferred the ability to run without sounding like somebody’s kitchen was escaping and not having one’s vision blocked by a visor is helpful when one only has one eye to see with.

She went through the day’s schedule in her mind as she dumped last night’s clothes into the wash basin, to be washed in the evening when the heat from the ovens downstairs warmed it up to the fullest.

Today is the funeral for old Farmer Johnday. Also, I need to prepare three scrolls, check on those two who got into a drunken fight last night and make sure they’re healing alright, bless Farmer May’s new calf…

As a priest, she had to preside over functions such as weddings and funerals. As a cleric, she had to bless and heal. As a user of magic, she had to pay taxes in the form of spell scrolls.

The more magic you have on your side, the safer you are. This is a fundamental truth of the world. Most people won’t even consider living in any place that doesn’t have at least a magician or cleric residing there.

However, magic does not come easily. Only one in a thousand are born with the natural ability to become a magician. Although apparently anyone can become a cleric no matter how young or old, male or female, human or other, each god can only have up to a thousand or so clerics at best, depending on whatever currency or power source it is that a god must use. As a god grows stronger, the number of clerics serving him or her grows too.

The next best thing to having a caster in residence is to have a stockpile of scrolls that can be cast by any person with the ability to read.

As Teresa left her bedroom and entered the main hall of her church, she had to sigh. “Bitsy” the dog was sleeping next to the altar, having pulled the tablecloth down again to make a bed with. The statue of the Goddess Ilya was somehow still okay on top of the altar (a minor miracle to be sure). The Holy Truths of Ilya wasn’t so lucky, having fallen onto the floor, opened to the Divine Prophecies.

“1.2.4 And there came unto the People a GIRL that was not born of Woman, and a Boy that could melt all Hearts. And all Bodies were Cleansed in the Light of Hope.”

Bitsy thumped her tail ‘tap tap tap’ on the floor upon seeing her, but didn’t move an inch. Her swollen belly, not full of food but of puppies-to-be, quivered a little.

Almost time for you to pop, huh? Not on THAT you don’t!

“Yeah, yeah, ‘tap tap’ to you too. You DO realize the cloth you’re sleeping on is supposed to be clean and pure, to symbolize the clean and pure image of Great Lady Ilya, RIGHT?”

Arguing with dogs is rarely productive.

Bitsy raised her head and looked at Teresa. A small whine came out, and her tail thumped ‘tap tap TAP TAP’ in a clear, “please feed me,” message.

Teresa sighed again, the sigh of all pushovers at the sight of needy adorableness.

She left the church floor of the central tower, and walked the stairs down past the almost empty second floor (to be given to the magician Lord Bowen was trying to attract) and down to the ground floor where the storage rooms and kitchens were. Most of the community’s dogs and cats were already begging the cooks, who were preparing breakfast.

Dogs and cats are essential for home defense. Dogs have keen senses of smell and hearing, making invisible and phased intruders far easier to spot, and cats can see ethereal creatures and enjoy hunting small vermin, such as insects, rodents, and the occasional gremlin. As such, both are welcome and raised by the community as a whole, with early training so that they will know what their duties are. The trickiest part has always been to teach them where to relieve themselves.

Emilya Evans was a cook who could easily be mistaken to be a man. She had large, thick arms from her work, no makeup (“It might get in the food, idiot!”), and only bothered to shave off her mustache when it annoyed her enough. Her light brown hair was cut very short to avoid the heat from the many stoves and what was left was tucked under a large plain scarf. Like a man, she focused on only one thing at a time and desired nothing more than to get back to her work “without so much jawing”. However, she always made time to pet her ‘babies’. The first meal of the day was a light breakfast for them, since the other villagers will most likely share some of their meals as well.

Emilya grunted at the Teresa when she saw her, pointing her head at a counter top where two dishes sat, a large one for the nun with potatoes and ham, and a slightly smaller one for Bitsy, made of the meaty mash of spare parts and grains that served as pet food.

Having fed herself and a pregnant dog (and swapped a blanket for the tablecloth after some effort), Teresa left the nipple-fort and headed out to the graveyard… or rather, to the furnace on consecrated ground.

The dead can rise from their graves (even with proper precautions), and rather than bury their loved ones again most families opt to simply burn the bodies completely to ash. Ghosts are remarkably more difficult to deal with than zombies, but vampires are on another level completely. It’s best to be safe. She spoke words of comfort and hope to the bereaved families of Farmer Johnday Evans and finally left near lunchtime.

Stopping by the General Store in the inner ring of the nipple-fort, she bought a number of blank scrolls and some more ink from Robin Evans, and spent a nice hour sharing lunch and chatting with the busty brown-haired gossip about who did what to who and WOULD YOU BELIEVE that such-and-so was secretly seeing THIS person?

George and John Evans were NOT happy to see Teresa, and she gave them good reason to not be happy as she sternly and thoroughly lectured them on self-control and drinking in moderation while seeing to a broken arm and cracked head. Their wives Hilda and Kathy nodded and agreed and added some ‘percussive enhancement’ to the lecture.

The baby calf was, of course, adorable. Farmer May Evans beamed as if she were the mother instead as Teresa gave a formal Blessing and asked Goddess Ilya to watch over this farm and to please bring prosperity to her worshipers.

It was evening when she got back to the central tower. It was far warmer inside now that the kitchen was in full swing for the evening meals, but oddly… no dogs or cats around. Emilya shoved a number of buckets of what seemed like pet food and a plate of plate of real food at her and said, simply, “Dropped eight, one scroll.” – Meaning that Bitsy had given birth to a litter of eight, but that a spell scroll was required to save either the mother or a puppy.

“How did--” (you get your hands on a scroll?) she almost asked but a rare blush on the cook’s face told all. Kitchens have first-aid kits in case of accidents, and Emilya obviously ransacked one to help out one of her beloved ‘babies’.

Make that FOUR scrolls I have to make now…

Mike Evans gallantly offered to carry the buckets with a handsome smile, his wavy brown hair glowing golden in the magical light that illuminated the stairs. She smiled a flirty thank you to him as the two eventually made their way up to the church level.

Every single dog and cat in the community looked up at them. They were seated in a full circle around…

“What the hell?” asked Mike.

“Oh Great Lady.” Teresa gasped.

In the center of the animals slept Bitsy and eight puppies on a rumpled blue blanket....and a naked person, wrapped in the tablecloth that had been pulled off the altar. The statue of the Goddess Ilya was somehow still okay on top of the altar (a minor miracle to be sure). The Holy Truths of Ilya wasn’t so lucky, having fallen onto the floor, opened to the Divine Prophecies.

“1.7.4 And lo our LADY ILYA didst say, ‘I wave MY Hand, and create Fields of Grain. I give a Breath, and create Life. Who is to say that I, your Goddess, cannot Do so again?’ and the people rejoiced, for though Death comes to all, new Life can come as well.”

The person had silvery-blue hair, pointed ears, and was clearly not human.