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// Journal of a multiverse traveller 
// Story: Stranger Things Have Happened 
// by Mulldragon 
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	The Spinner's Prison. That is what this place used to be called, back before Lolth decided that ramming the two worlds of "Eberron" and "The Forgotten Realms" together would be a good idea. This place is now nothing more than pieces of stone and dirt floating through an empty void connected together by massive, indestructible strands of spider webbing. This is what happens to the impact zone when two universes are forced together. All of this debris and webbing connects in a twisting maze but all leads back to one central location. This platform, once the holding place of the Spinner of Shadows, now lacks it's intended resident and instead holds dozens of the most renowned mages, artificers, and sorcerers in all of Stormreach, perhaps even all of Argonessen. All of these masters of the arcane are here because of one thing, the one and only prominent and sturdy feature of this void. A portal to another world.

It is in this void that we find arguably one of the most powerful wizards in Stormreach, but he is not a part of this gathering. No, for he is shunned by the majority of those others. He is persecuted, not for any evil actions on his part, but for what he is. What he was born with an inherent talent for. For you see, This man is not just your typical wizard that throws balls of fire and bolts of lightning. Now, don't get me wrong, he does these things too when the need arises but that is not what sets him apart. What sets him apart is that he was born with a natural attraction towards and talent with one particular school of magic, Necromancy. The magic of death and undeath. Magic meant to kill your foes with a wave of your hand and reanimate the dead to fight as your side. One of the most hated and darkest forms of magic in this world. But, contrary to popular belief, dark doesn't always mean evil.

"Who is this man?" you ask? This man is one who has chosen the path of adventure. He is one who has decided to devote his life to saving others and proving to the world that Necromancy can be used for good. This is a man who has been called a hero many times, but called monster so many more. Why is this man so hated and reviled? Because he gave up his life for this goal. I don't mean that he died, well not in the general sense. If I meant that then he wouldn't be found here now would he? No, I mean that he performed a necromantic ritual to exchange his mortal life for an eternal undeath. He has become a lich, an undead master of necromancy and among the kings of the living dead.

Now, why did this man do such a thing if it would bring him such hatred? Why is this man here in a desolate void where two worlds have collided? For what does he risk being so close to mages that have enough combined power to utterly destory him? The answer is the same for all of these questions, his goal. He realised rather quickly that his mortal life would end long before he could bring about the acceptance of necromancy in his world, so he sought out the lich ritual in order to survive long enough to see his goal completed. He is here because this is where he realized that his world was not the only one and that there were likely hundreds if not thousands more out there, and that his goal was far larger than he ever imagined. For he could never bring peace to the necromancers in one world while there are still more worlds where they face persecution and destruction. He comes to this place, where he could be blasted apart by the most reviered wielders of the arcane ever heard of, because he realized that even a lich can be killed too easily for him to survive long enough to bring acceptance in two worlds let alone thousands. So it is that he has theorized that if these worlds collided then there must have originally been something in between and if he can hide his phylactery there than it would likely never be found.

The only problem, is getting access to this space between worlds. That brings us to why he has come here in particular. He has chosen this place because if he were to find access to this space anywhere, it would be the one place where these worlds met, for whenever two things are smashed together there are likely to be cracks.

And so it is that we find this man wandering from floating island to floating island, constantly probing the fabric of reality in search of an opening. He is not a particularly muscular man, as is to be expected of any mage, but he is not frail by any stretch of the word. He stands at about six feet in height, around average for a male in Eberron, and has a rather slim appearance. By looking at his body build or seeing the way he carries himself you would believe him to be in his prime, no more than his 30s if anything. But if you get close enough to see his face and his pure white, shoulder length hair you can see how old he really was when he freed himself from the hands of time. His is the face of an old man, most would guess him at around mid-seventies based solely off of this and that would be as near to accurate as anyone could be any more. He is centuries old but necromancy and an existence filled with adventure and exertion have granted him the endurance and agility of a man in his prime. But even a lich has to rest eventually.	

This man walked to what had to be the thousandth island of stone he had visited since his arrival, clad in a white robe inlaid with golden runes written in a lost version of the draconic language, known only by a handful of beings. He had a belt tied around his waist from which hung twelve small pouches: nine contained spell components, one contained his money, one held ritual components, and the final held everything else he may have need of. In his hand he held a large, wooden staff with runes tracing in a spiral pattern from the bottom to the top. When he neared the center of this floating rock he thumbed his staff against the ground, releasing a pulse of arcane energy. He waited a few seconds for the pulse to return and when it did he sat down with a disappointed sigh.

"So much of this place searched and still no cracks to be found." he mumbled to himself as he untied his miscellaneous items pouch. opening it he peered inside and reached all the way up to his elbow into the small bag that looked like it could hold no more than his hand and pulled out a perfectly preserved slice of meat "Thirty odd years researching and creating a ritual to hop worlds, and three more gathering the materials and it may all be for nothing unless I can find a location!"

The man sighed again and then set to eating his lunch. When that was finished with he began his search again, making sure to maintain his arcane map spell so as not to search the same place twice. Six hours of searching and one break later, he stepped onto another bridge of webbing on course for yet another desolate, boring rock, only for the webs to shift beneath him and cause him to fall over the edge!

Now, this would normally be no issue to him because if he isn't prepared to cast a feather fall spell on himself he has a ring that does the job just as well. In this instance however, there is a slight problem caused by this falling... the only surface beneath him was a small outcropping of rock far below him, just big enough for him to lie down on, and it was connected to others only through long webs too thin for him to climb. So it was that the man dejectedly fell slowly down to an isolated space and sat down with an annoyed sigh.

"Great, now I have to spend six hours sitting on a tiny rock to prepare a flight spell!" he hit the bottom of his staff against the ground in anger, inadvertently sending out another pulse of energy. "At this rate I'll never find a... WHAT?!" he was suddenly interrupted by the pulse coming back, and showing that there was just the thing he was 
looking for one the very rock he was standing on! "This tiny, insignificant, isolated little stone held the thing I have spent the last three days looking for!?" He sat down hard and rested his head against his hands and after a brief few seconds began to chuckle, which eventually turned into full blown laughter "hahaha! The irony of fate never ceases to amaze! I haven't found something this far from expectation in years!"

With his initial rage gone and his laughter finally calmed down, the man wasted no more time in untieing his ritual puch and pulling out all of the various rare ingredients he needed, all the while a giant smile on his face. When the final ingredient had been place he found that the rock was the perfect size to fit the arrangement with himself inside, another coincidence that could only have been set up in the weave of fate.

"finally, after all these years I can finish this ritual, store my phylactery, and get back to work on my goal." he began the gestures and incantations required for the ritual and released a steady flow of arcane energy. He maintained this for close to an hour before finally he reached the final word and slammed his hands together on the ground. Nothing happened for a solid minute and the man began to wonder if his efforts were all for naught. But then, just as he was about to give up hope, the air around him began to rush towards a spot in front of him. He had to brace himself with a shielding spell to keep from being blown off the rock. Unfortunately, his ritual pouch was still on the ground and he was not fast enough to grab it. Just as the pouch was about to fall off of the edge, a split began to become visible in the air where the wind was gathering and the pouch disappeared within it. The man laughed into the gale force winds around him shouting to himself, barely audible over the winds.

"Finally! I have done it! I have opened a portal to the space between worlds. I have accessed the Aether!" With that, he threw himself forward into the portal.

He emerged to find himself floating in yet another void, his pouch nowhere to be found. He looked around him and realized that he was not in fact in an empty void, but was instead surrounded by what appeared to be giant moving orbs, about five times his size. His original theories about the Aether appeared to be wrong, He had originally theorized that the Aether would be a motionless expanse that held doorways to countless worlds. Instead what he got was a space that seemed to have no gravity and was filled with ever-moving orbs of color that he could only assume to be worlds. No, they weren't moving. He now realized that he felt HIMSELF moving, as if caught in a rapid stream. But, despite the apparent speeds the motion did not appear to be violent. in fact, he felt almost calmed by the steady motion and his course never veered closer to those orbs, always weaving perfectly between them.

"So, this is the great Aether. The space beyond the barriers that protect each universe and connects all worlds to each other." He could not really distinguish the orbs from each other but no matter, he simply had to find the two spheres pressed together to get back home. He tried to move but realized that there was obviously nothing for him to walk on. He had an idea come to mind. This was not the first void that a mage had found themselves floating in and from books written by them he decided to try their method of movement. Willing yourself to move.

Surprisingly enough this preposterous sounding idea worked. Any normal person would have taken a moment to wonder at this new form of movement but this man had seen far too many strange things to be amazed by this. Besides, He had a job to do and was already delayed far too much for his liking.

"well, this place seems safe enough. Constantly moving, no discernible signs of life, no apparent risk of collision or any obvious danger of any kind. Seems like just the kind of place I was looking for." He reached into his robes and pulled out what looked like a stone scroll case. This man was doing something that only the most idiotic or desperate of liches would do. Something so foolish that it is only done if absolutely necessary. He was carrying his Phylactery on his person.

He released his Phylactery and watched it get swept away as he willed himself to remain in place. He still had a back up in Eberron of course, it never hurts to play it safe, but as far as he could tell this would be the safest possible place for the very thing that maintains his existence.

"Now, My phylactery is safe, I have successfully accessed the Aether, and I now how to move within this void. All that is left now is to find my way home so I can continue my mission. First Eberron, then the Forgotten Realms, then after that I will just pick worlds at random until I have accomplished my goal in as many worlds as I can." With that, the necromancer set off through the void in search of his home world. Now, time is hard to measure in a void but after what the man guessed to be four hours of wandering, he had still not found his home. This seemed like it would be harder than he thought.

I won't bore you with the details of his search as it is about three weeks of pure monotony as he wanders with still no sign of his world. Throughout this time he does experiments as he moves, testing how the barriers react to certain things. About one in every ten objects he tossed towards a world would slip through the barrier while the rest would simply bounce off and return to the stream of the Aether. This rule seemed to have one exception, anything that had or used to have life would pass through without fail. Meat? Yes. Plants? Yes. Dragon scale? Surprisingly, yes. Throughout all of these tests however, he never once tried to enter a world himself, now knowing whether or not he would be able to escape.

The constant process of search, throw something, watch it, search some more, etc... was finally disrupted, but not in a way that the man expected and definitely one he did not want. On what seemed to be the third week of his search he sensed a wave of energy passing though the Aether and quickly shielded himself. The wave passed by and he released his shield. However, the wave hit the world directly behind him... and bounced off, catching him on it's return trip heading toward its' original source. The man saw himself rapidly approaching a world that shone brightly with many colors, all the colors of the rainbow in fact. His eyes widened and he attempted to escape the wave of force and when that didn't work he tried every spell he could think of to free himself but as he approached the chromatic ball of light at a faster and faster pace it became apparent that he would not be able to escape. Resigning himself to his fate, the man braced himself for impact and closed his eyes.

One moment he felt himself being forced towards the unknown world and the next he felt rough, cracked stone beneath him. He opened his eyes to see that he was facing the floor of a well lit room and was on his hands and knees.

"huh, that was anti-climactic." He said as he began to stand up, only to fall down as an inexplicable fatigue washed over him and he hit the floor hard, landing with his back hitting a wall equally rough and stony as the floor. "ow" he said weakly as he reached his hand up to rub the back of his head which also had a rather abrupt introduction to the wall. He looked up to observe the room he had apparently landed in and saw what looked like decrepit ruins of some sort, likely a keep or castle from the fact that everything was stone and the room was massive. He also was able to discern that he was not alone, he 
could see moving shadows being cast from the other side of a pillar and he could hear voices. Many voices.

Having little other choice, having found out the hard way that moving would be quite difficult for the time being, he decided that hiding from unknown beings would just make him seem suspicious if they did find him. So, he attempted to call out to them, managing a moderate level speaking voice but getting more and more tired by the moment "Whoever you are, I really hope you are friendly cause I think i'm going to need some help getting out of here. Or moving at all for that matter."

He heard a collective gasp from the other side of the pillar and the sound of... hooves on stone? In the man's last few moments of consciousness he was able to see the silhouettes of some sort of of equine creatures, likely the mounts of his potential rescuers, before his vision faded to black and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Now, throughout this tale I have told you about this man and explained his goals, his powers, what he is, and even where he comes from. But, I have yet to answer the question of who he is or tell you who I am for that matter. Well, the answer is the same to both questions is the same, for I am that man. My name is Yetagain. You may know of me as "The Dark Redeemer" or some equally ridiculous title. I have compiled this journal to help explain to my potential successor (though I hope that I should never need one) my past, my mistakes, and my accomplishments in the hopes of helping him or her better achieve the goal I have started. I have chosen this event to be the introduction of this journal because this is the beginning of my first venture into the multiverse and one of my earliest adventures of any great significance. This is the tale of how I was sent into the world of Equestria.