Summoned Across Realms — Demon Multiverse RPG

“A thick haze of pipe smoke and cheap ale hangs over The Demoness Bar as a loudmouthed goblin bangs his mug against a table in the center of the room, holding court for a crowd of wide-eyed travelers.”

The goblin leans forward, lowering his voice to a theatrical rasp as nearby patrons huddle closer. “I heard this rumor about a demon known across all universes—one who can only cross between worlds when summoned. Some say that demon slaughters whole armies for no apparent reason, while others swear the demon only does what their summoner commands. Personally? My working theory is that the motherfucker doesn’t even exist.”

A ripple of nervous chuckles and whispered questions spreads through the crowd. Over by the bar, a customer mid-conversation with the bartender pauses, glancing nervously toward the shadowed corner booth where you sit.

The bartender merely sighs, already reaching behind the counter to check that his trusty mop is within arm's reach, muttering under his breath, “Why do they never check the corner booths first...”

“The entire tavern goes dead quiet for a heartbeat as the goblin continues boasting, completely oblivious to your presence just a few paces away.”

“The faint smell of burnt oak and cheap ale still lingers in the air as the scorch marks on The Demoness Bar’s floorboards cool behind you. Down in the ember-lit depths of Hell, the quiet barely lasts a heartbeat before a familiar, jagged hook of arcane force latches onto your chest, accompanied by the frantic, overlapping voices of desperate mortals.”

A blinding circle of crimson runes erupts beneath you, dragging your form upward through the planar veil. With a deafening crack of displaced air and a rush of cold midnight wind, you materialize inside the shattered courtyard of a rain-slicked stone fortress.

Lightning flashes overhead, illuminating three robed summoners kneeling around a smoking chalk sigil. Two of them take one look at your sudden demonic manifestation before scrambling backward into the mud in sheer panic. The third—a battered young war-mage clutching a bleeding shoulder—forces himself to stay upright, trembling violently as heavy battering rams thunder against the courtyard gates behind him.

“I-It worked... the tavern rumors were true!” The mage’s voice cracks over the roar of distant battle as he points a shaking finger toward the splintering iron gates. “Demon! I am the one who summoned you! Hold off the warlord's vanguard until my people escape through the tunnels—name your price in gold, relics, or souls, just don't let them breach that gate!”

“Instead of the usual smell of brimstone and battlefields, you are pulled out of the planar rift into the scent of burnt lavender candles, spilled ink, and ozone.”

You materialize inside a cluttered, velvet-draped dormitory room lit by floating fairy lights. Sprawled on the floor just outside a crooked, half-smudged chalk circle is a flustered magic-academy student wearing oversized spectacles, clutching a smoking textbook titled ‘Beginner’s Guide to Familiar Pacts’.

The student blinks up at you through crooked glasses, their face turning bright crimson as they realize they summoned an actual, legendary demon instead of a harmless pocket-sized imp.

“W-Wait a second... you’re not a horned toad familiar!” The student scrambles backward against their bedframe, knocking over a stack of romance novels and spell scrolls, before staring back up at you in wide-eyed awe. “Oh no, oh no—I mispronounced the third syllable, didn't I?! Look, please don't eat my soul! Tell me what you want—gold, snacks, a blood pact, anything—just don't tell the headmaster I accidentally summoned a real demon in my dorm!”

“A heavy, suffocating chant of a hundred blood-priests yanks you through the veil, dropping you onto polished obsidian tiles in the center of a cavernous royal throne room.”

Shattered stained-glass windows let beams of moonlight cut through the smoke of burning incense. Around the perimeter of the summoning circle, dozens of armored royal guards instantly level crossbows and enchanted halberds at your chest, their hands visibly trembling.

At the top of the marble steps, a wounded, silver-haired Queen leans heavily on a notched greatsword, blood dripping from her gauntlet onto the steps. A cruel smile curls across her lips as she gazes down at you.

“They called me mad for breaking the ancient seals,” the Queen calls out, her voice echoing off the stone pillars as thunderous footsteps of a rebel army echo outside the grand doors. “My own generals betrayed me at dawn. So I paid the blood price to summon the demon of the tavern legends. Slay the traitors breaching my gates, Demon—and when my kingdom is reclaimed, half its treasury and every soul among my enemies is yours to claim.”

“There is no chalk circle or chanting this time—only a violent tear in reality accompanied by the deafening wail of klaxon alarms and crackling blue plasma.”

You drop onto cold, grated steel decking inside the dimly lit engine bay of a massive starship. Holographic warning screens flash red in an unknown alien script, while sparks shower down from an overloaded rift-core reactor behind you.

A scarred, cybernetically augmented smuggler in a battered leather coat dives behind a crate, aiming a glowing plasma rifle at you—only to freeze dead in her tracks as she registers your unmistakable demonic presence.

“By the void... the spacer rumors at the rim-stations were actually true,” the smuggler breathes, slowly lowering her barrel a fraction of an inch as a massive dreadnought’s tractor beam rocks the entire ship. “Our hyperdrive misfired and dragged you straight out of Hell. Listen—pirates are boarding my airlock in thirty seconds. Help me clear my deck, and I’ll figure out how to jump-start your rift so you can get home—plus I’ll pay you in uncut astral gems.”