In a quiet little dwelling in the myriad of rooms and tunnels beneath a city owned by the Crossroad Wayfinders, 5 kobolds sat around a table. Four pairs of eager eyes glance down at some papers and sets of dice before each of them. They also try to make eye contact with the fifth, but he is secured in a fortress of trifolded paper set upright, such that seeing him is difficult unless he sits up straight. The anticipated moment arrives, for this individual clears his throat and begins speaking.

  “Welcome back, everyone, to another session of Firmament & Filaments. Would anyone like to share with the group what they remember from our last session.”

  Many hands shuffle papers as sheepish eyes suddenly find one set of written words or another to be utterly fascinating, if not useless for their first endeavor. Finally, one speaks up.

  “Uh, I have in my notes here: ‘heretics wearing white after Harvest Festival Day, target ship will arrive out of the Loom in five days, don’t trust elf.’”

  With a heavy sigh, their leader takes a moment to collect himself before speaking again.

  “Thank you for your attempt to recap, but that was from the session before last. To be brief, the traitorous Vogue Trader’s ship has exited the Loom, and you have boarded it. You are currently in combat. Tweedles of House Overcheck, it is your turn.”

  Realization washes over the collective kobolds as they remember the events of their last session. The kobold in charge of that character looks at his character sheet before making a decision.

  “I load my bolter with Thread of Saint Versace and fire it at Heretic C.” Dice are rolled before he continues. “Does a 23 hit? Also, I have a plus two bonus because he was hit with fabric softener last round.”

  “It does.” Their leader declares “Roll for damage.”

  More dice roll.

  “That’s 11 damage, and he now has the Threadbare debuff. As a bonus action, I draw my lintsaber and charge him.”

  “I don’t know if the circumstances allow for you to apply Threadbare in this situation, but I will allow Rule of Spool and research it more for our next session. Either way, that will provoke an Attack of Opportunity from Heretic D. Do you wish to continue?”

  “Yeah, it is what my character would do. I trust my thimble armor to protect me. I also shout ‘For the Emporium!’ as I do this.”

  More dice are rolled. Heretic D misses, while the token for Heretic C is removed from the board.

  Before they can continue, another kobold bursts into the room, his expression excited and concerned.

  “Guys!” he shouts as he tries to catch his breath. “You gotta come see this. There is something weird in the sky.”

  Curious and concerned, the kobolds pause their session and hurry outside, utilizing a secret stairwell in a building that directly connects the underground to a rooftop vantage point.

  “What is THAT?” shouts one kobold in alarm and concern.

  “I think it might be a portal of some kind,” one answers.

  “A portal,” another scoffs. “It looks like a giant-”

  “-pussy, pussy, pussy! Here, pussy, pussy, pussy. I have some delicious fish.”

  The elven maiden scampered through an alleyway after the cat in question. Unlike most alleyways throughout the world, this one remained remarkably clean and tidy. However, it does have some wooden crates, trash cans, and other things covered in tarps. Such clutter had been previously forbidden, but thanks to the work of those like Ambriolita, who advised the Emperor on policy changes, it was made permissible. Such items added character to the alleyway and broke up the monotony of perfection that order can bring.

  Similarly, the cat, like the others, is a new addition. With no vermin in the city due to protective wards to repel them, there had been no need for cats to control the population of mice and rats, but it turns out that people like to see stray cats. Some people, like this elven maiden, are overly enthusiastic, and don’t yet seem to appreciate that a stray cat will only run if you chase it. Such is the folly and wonder of youth.

  “Hey, wait, come back here. Why won’t you let me love you?” she cried out in exasperation.

  The cat retreated upwards, using boxes and windowsills to aid in the endeavor. Not to be outdone, the maiden gave chase. While the cat was nimble and light, the same could not be said for the maiden. Ignorance and overconfidence led to a misplaced foot on a tarp that could not support her weight. After some undignified scrambling failed to arrest her descent, she ended up on her backside on the ground, her pride more damaged than anything else. Nearby and above, a cat looked down on her smugly as said cat dismissively licked a paw.

  “You will be mine, some day,” the maiden declared as she raised one fist into the air from where she lay prone. “Then you will know unending affection. Resistance is futile.”

  Then, her eyes caught something in the sky. The maiden blushed as she looked at it and laughed lightly.

  “Woah, do you see that, Sir Fluffington! It sorta looks like a huge-”

  “Gash. Half an inch wide, four deep.”

  The riccen [Shadowpad] pointed out the wound on the corpse of a male dwarf. His compatriots leaned in to examine the wound that felled the poor sod.

  “Hmm,” the eldest amongst them mused as he rubbed his whiskers, “I think it was made to be a convincing cause of death, but on a dwarf of his build, I don’t think that would be lethal. With as much alcohol they drink, dwarves are too resilient against poison for it to be the culprit. What else could be the cause of death?”

  The poor sod who allegedly did not die from the stab wound would have died of shame as the riccen unceremoniously poked and prodded at every nook and cranny on the dwarf’s body.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Here, between his toes!” one exclaimed as he pointed excitedly. “Necrosis, but not from any poison that would make sense. Do you think this was a direct application of necromancy? I say that because, if you look at his shin and calf, you can see someone did some touching up of the outer skin to make it appear healthy.”

  He used a flaying knife (which is vastly different from a flensing knife) to remove the skin on the dwarf’s leg, and beneath it, necrotic flesh greeted them, although it was remarkably absent of any stench of decay.

  “I honestly have no idea what could have caused this,” the eldest riccen said.

  “Maybe those necromancer dragons would know something. The Bone Warrens or something.”

  “The Bone Wardens,” the elder corrected with emphasis. “Furthermore, what they do isn’t necromancy. Well, they do have [Necromancy] as some level of Focus, but that isn’t the driving force behind their skeleton army. Those things are made by [Animancy], which makes them closer to golems than undead. That’s also why they need to be piloted for practical combat.”

  “So, are you saying that they wouldn’t know or could not help?”

  “I’m saying-” The elder stopped speaking as his whiskers twitched and his snout sniffed for a scent that could be a clue.

  Wordlessly, he gave hand gestures for “trouble (unknown origin)” and “investigate (exterior)”. In total agreement, the riccen silently made their way outside. Collectively and inevitably, they all ended up on the same rooftop as all eyes turned to something strange in the sky to the west.

  “It looks a bit like an egg, don’t it?” asked one of their junior members.

  “Too pointy to be an egg. I would describe it as being rather-”

  “Yonic fits your rhyme,” came the sweet and teasing voice of the remnimi woman’s friend. “And if your poem is for the purpose I think it is, it may just fit nicely.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” came the reply of the one attempting to dabble in poetry.

  One whisper in an ear and one blushing face later, and a pen scribbled furiously at the last line written upon the page.

  “Too spicy, far too spicy!”

  “Not spicy enough!” her senior countered. “I know orcs may behave all prim and proper about such things in public, but they enjoy their smut and romance. He will appreciate both clever innuendos and wordplay that is far more-” she leaned in to whisper in her friend’s ear as she spoke “-intimate.”

  “In-in-in-intimate!” the younger one stammered as she blushed and put on a facade of indignation that fooled no one. “We are just friends. Coworkers really. Acquaintances at best.”

  “Uh huh,” her senior said, her tone entirely unconvinced. “So you say it is normal to stare longingly at a coworker, to blush whenever his name is mentioned, to write poetry for him.”

  “It’s an invitation!” the youth countered. “I am inviting him to a full moon party in the traditional fashion. There is nothing deeper to my purpose here.”

  Her senior sighed as she tried for a new tack. She pulled the pen out of her friend’s hand and sat down across from her to look her directly in the eyes.

  “Heart of my heart, there is nothing wrong with having feelings and desires for a man, least of all for one of another race if you are not ready to have children. He is on the puny side for an orc, which still makes him bigger, tougher, and more muscular than the strongest remnimi male. He is handsome to us, but not so much to his own kind. I’m certain he would be head over heels with joy if you made a move on him.”

  She raised a hand to smother any rebuttal in the crib.

  “Life comes at you one way or another. You can stand by idly, hoping and waiting for a man to come along as you waste away, or you can utilize some agency with your actions and bend the world to your will. The worst that can happen is he says no and things are awkward for a few days. However, I am pretty sure that he likes you, too, but you are just not familiar enough with the orcish body language to pick up on his hints. I could give you a rundown on everything you need to know so that there are no missed opportunities.”

  “I think I need some fresh air.” the younger remnimi commented suddenly as she stood up and walked out onto the balcony while her friend slowly followed so as to not make the poor thing feel cornered.

  “I get it,” she confided in her friend as they leaned over the balcony to watch the people on the street. “Romance can be scary when you first start out, and love can pounce on you at any moment, for the heart seldom heeds the commands of the mind. But, it is all worth it once you get some experience under your belt, even if you make a few blunders here and there. No one is going to be mad or disappointed in you for trying.”

  “I know that!” the younger one snapped. In shame, she turned away to look down the street. “It is just-”

  She turned and pulled on her friend’s arm to tug her over to the edge of the balcony as she pointed.

  “What the fuck is that?” she shouted as forced her friend to look at the mystery in the sky.

  “Uh, I don’t know,” she answered. “First the moons go away, now strange tears in the sky. Do you see something coming out of it?

  With a quick incantation of a spell she had learned from a [Mage] that didn’t ask too many questions if the money was good, her vision enhanced until she could see the spectacle more clearly.

  “Not something,” she nearly screamed, “But people of some kind. They have wings and they don’t look like any race I have seen before.

  With a wavering wail, an alarm siren sang out a warning and order as others like it joined in throughout the city.

  “Quick now!” the elder remnimi urged as she pulled her friend inside. “We need to get to the shelters. I’ll be damned if I did these stupid monthly drills just to fail to get to the shelters in time during a real event.”

  Hurriedly, but calmly, they left their apartment as they made their way into the hallway. Already, other individuals and families were crowding into the same hallway as they made their way to the emergency stairs that gave them direct access to the underground. Abilities from Blessings were in full swing to keep people calm and organized as they moved forward without pushing or panic.

  Many flights of stairs later, they found themselves amidst a crowd as they shuffled down hallways towards bunkers beneath the city. Kobolds ushered them into one of many bays that were compartmentalized for safety.

  An elbow in the ribs from her companion alerted the younger of the two that her senior wanted her attention.

  “Looks like trouble can also be a source of opportunity,” she [Whispered] via one of her Abilities. “Unless my eyes deceive me, that is one particularly noteworthy orc up ahead.”

  Deftly and without hesitation, the senior remnimi guided her friend towards the orc in question before she grabbed him too with her free hand.

  “Hello, love,” she greeted as she tugged him along. “I say, we best get a room while the getting is good. Maybe one of the smaller ones will do.”

  Without waiting for affirmation or consent, she shoved the two of them into a smaller room that only had two bunkbeds in it, the whole of it so cramped as to seem like a prison cell if not for the locks being on the inside.

  “You two get comfy in there while I help with things out here.”

  Before her friend or the orc could do anything, the door had been shut firmly with the pair of them as the only occupants inside. Illuminators on the wall opposite the door provided ample visibility for the pair of them to view how awkward each other was about being so close to one another.

  And while the opportunity sired by trouble eventually yielded to deeds best left unspoken (except to besties, everyone knows that), some new visitors had arrived to town, and they were not the friendliest sort.