In the Blind Eternities, the only thing you can be sure of is that nothing is set in stone. Of course, given the impermanence of rocks in the infinite multiverse, the parable loses its gravitas, but you get the point. Across endless parallel universes, there will be infinite variations of the same thing. But eventually, perpetual chaos begets order.
Suppose you draw infinite curves on a sheet of paper. Some will overlap, and some will be parallel. And some will have such minor differences that differentiating between them would be pedantic. Now, if the paper was a space with infinite dimensions, those curves would represent different worlds and their timelines, practically but not accurately. This analogy is quite limited and does not fully represent the Blind Eternities. But it represents how different worlds can have similarities.
If you take a clumped cluster of worldlines and average them out, you get a timeline of how things go. A canonical timeline, if you will. It can also be represented as stories.
As an example of such stories, here is a brief meta-overview of one:
It begins with a species of space worms trying to survive the heat death of the universe by consuming resources. These worms consume anything and everything, including each other. A parasitic species, unable to comprehend the Blind Eternities, like a frog in a well.
But today's story is not of that. Today's story begins with a Demon Lord.
Archive of Pandemonium,
Campaign 1, Episode 1
When the Rulgaer Gravelbrew, the owner of Flowing Amber, was hiring a bartender, Gurth Orebeard proudly claimed that he could determine the type of drunk someone was when they walked into a bar. And if a drunk broke anything, the boss could deduct the cost from his paycheck. Finding an excuse to cut wages, the boss hired him on the spot.
Gurth had been a bartender at the Flowing Amber for about half a century. Throughout his career, he had interacted with a wide variety of individuals who enjoyed a few too many drinks, coming from all walks of life. As a result, he honed the particular skill that he boasted about. It was probably because of that one instance when he had to hand over money to his boss instead.
The new customer piqued his interest. People who wanted to drown themself in alcohol had tales to tell. Those started in the morning, even more so. This wanna-be drunk was a human male wearing an untucked and creased white shirt with faded black jeans. He walked with a slouch, his head angled towards the floor, making his face hard to see. His black hair was shiny with grease. He was perfect.
The human sat on a cheap backless stool in front of the bar. He put his elbows on the table and paused for a moment. Raising his right arm straight above the table, he folded the sleeve and did the same for the left arm. Only then did he put his elbows on the table and his face in his hands. And Gurth knew his time had come.
Gurth walked steadily toward the human, ensuring his footsteps were discernible yet not boisterous. When he reached the human, he posed with a rug in one hand and a mug in another and, in a subdued manner that he would deny practicing, inquired, "May I inquire about your preferred beverage, my friend?"
