Most storms on most worlds passed as little more than atmospheric disturbances; possibly devastating to the inhabitants of that world, but unremarkable in the grand scheme of the multiverse.
Now and again, it happened, that a storm came along so charged that one plane of existence couldn't contain it.
On the plane that existed Rhy'din, in Room Sixteen of the Red Dragon Inn, the effect was minimal. So small, even, as to be barely noticed.
It happened just after dawn, quiet, and for no real reason at all.
The winds of time and space swirled and parted, and from somewhere in the realm next door, a stetson dropped to the floor and rolled off, settling somewhere by the bed.
The storm had no opinion on the matter. Neither, in fact, did the stetson.
Somewhere, though, the owner hoped that one day it would find its way back to him. Or her, as the case may be.
Now and again, it happened, that a storm came along so charged that one plane of existence couldn't contain it.
On the plane that existed Rhy'din, in Room Sixteen of the Red Dragon Inn, the effect was minimal. So small, even, as to be barely noticed.
It happened just after dawn, quiet, and for no real reason at all.
The winds of time and space swirled and parted, and from somewhere in the realm next door, a stetson dropped to the floor and rolled off, settling somewhere by the bed.
The storm had no opinion on the matter. Neither, in fact, did the stetson.
Somewhere, though, the owner hoped that one day it would find its way back to him. Or her, as the case may be.