Dear Tes,

Sorry for the scare but, well, you were praying to Yl and I figured interrupting you in the middle of your prayers to a dead god wouldn’t be the worst thing I could do. You don’t know me, and you won’t for quite some time, but I passed by your village when you were younger and I listened to your grandmother’s tales alongside you. 

If I may comment, you seem to be in a rather sticky situation now- what with the prison cart and handcuffs and death sentence awaiting you past the woods and all – so I hope this letter and the story it contains will provide a bit of familiarity and comfort to you. 

—

THE TALE OF THE TIME MARKET

It had been a week since the strange figure had shown up at the tabaxis’ doorstep. None of the tabaxis in the village knew what the stranger was, only that it wasn’t any of the genera in  Ritenus. 

The stranger, luckily, still proved to be proficient in Common – after uttering a few words of a spell, they were able to communicate with the tabaxi. They told them strange tales of what they had seen, stuff of myth – “giants” that parted the ocean, clever “gnomes” and their inventions, “humans” that thirsted for gold and adventure. In return, the tabaxi villagers gave the stranger food and water, and offered to take them in and help them get back to wherever it was they were from.

But every time this offer of shelter or a way home was made, the stranger would reject it with a sad smile. “This is my way home. I’m waiting for a door, and I’m afraid to miss it again,” they said, and would never say more. 

So as days and night passed, the stranger sat there and grew to know all of the tabaxi in the small village. A tabaxi elder, who all of the other tabaxi called “Grandmother,” took special interest in their stories and would swap tales with them, telling them tales of a great fallen dragon and the organizations that grew to fill its place. She told them about eccentric toymakers and suspicious bankers and floating cities and in this way, they grew to understand this strange world a little better. 

Still, they grew lonely – they wanted to tell the story of their origin to someone, to anyone, but they were too afraid they would lose their only source of sustenance and company if they told anyone the truth about their past, about their thievery. 

Then, one day, a new tabaxi came stumbling out of the woods. They were tired and haggard, but their eyes flashed with a tense sharpness. They studied the stranger, a look of confusion on their face. “I’ve never seen anyone like you.”

The stranger nodded, studying them too. The newcomer carried a map, so at first the stranger thought the tabaxi was some kind of explorer until their gaze was then pulled to the manacles around the tabaxi’s wrists and the brand on their palm. Ah. Another thief.

“I’m like you,” they said simply. “I’m a trapped thief, and I’m looking for a way out.”

The tabaxi scoffed, gestured at the stranger’s free hands and feet. “Trapped. You can leave any time you like. You don’t have a whole prison caravan after you.”

The stranger shook their head. “I’m not trapped in space, I’m trapped in time. I went through a doorway in time to dig up my stash here, but there was a passing patrol and, well, I got arrested. I managed to escape, but by then it was too late. I took too long and my door closed, so I’m stuck here until the tear opens up again to let me through again. I don’t dare leave this spot again, and I don’t have to – the tabaxi bring me food and water, and the summer weather is nice.”

The thief sat here, considering this, the idea of a miraculous doorway that could bring them somewhere else. “Where does the tear go?” They finally asked, in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

So the stranger spoke of the time market.

Everyone said time was like a street, receding behind you even as it stretched infinitely before you, and you went from point A to point B and on and on until you died. The stranger, however, knew that like any good city street, it had tunnels and pipes and catacombs running beneath, places hidden from sight – like the time market.

The time market came at night, and it came at day, and it pulled you in from the sky and from beneath your feet. For all its showiness, it never announced its entrance or departure with anything more flashy than blinking lights for a split second before time smoothed itself out again and shook off this temporary disruption. 

No one quite knows how the market began. Various folk legends featured a trickster who showed up at times of great fortune or great misfortune. She was revered by a superstitious sort, who saw her in the glint of every coin teetering on its edge and every wink of a shuffled deck of cards.

Here the tabaxi nodded. They knew what it was like to be superstitious – sometimes, before an important job, they would ask Yl’s blessing. She might be dead, but it brought them a bit of comfort nonetheless. 

Many of these superstitious found this trickster seemed to be intrigued by, and even moved to help,  the daring and audacious. Though no one quite knew what she was doing to help, sometimes when she was near a wind would blow at just the right moment or the right door would open.

One mortal that caught the trickster’s interest was a legendary thief known to history only as the Marauder. Menace of tyrants everywhere, he stole treasures and artifacts from conquered lands and returned them to their rightful owners. One day, as he was finishing up in a castle vault, he saw something that intrigued him- what appeared to be silks, but would dissolve into wind at a touch.

Intrigued, he let down his guard for a second too long to examine it. The platform he stood on fell open and he found himself shooting down a long slide, then plummeting towards what would surely be his death on the earth below.

The trickster, watching from a nearby ledge, shook her head. With a crack, a void opened up beneath him and he fell in, still screaming. With a flick of her hand, the trickster closed the door again. There. He’d be safe.

After a long minute of not hitting anything, he dared to look around cautiously. The same cliff face sailed past over and over, but the trees growing out of the cracks seemed smaller and smaller. Looking up, he saw at least three different suns in the sky but felt the heat of only one. Every time he blinked, the sky looked different – here a crescent moon struggling to shine behind a veil of smoke, there a new moon and just the stars over the castle he had just escaped. His view blurred more and more until he found himself in an utterly empty city, much like the capital he had just passed through, but seemingly devoid of people.

With little else to do, he worked to make it a beautiful city. He found himself living in the king’s chambers and, despite the sturdy vaults he could have used, kept his treasure of the winds with him at all times – call it a hunch, call it fate. So it was with him when, as he grew old and could hardly leave his room, he noticed a group of tieflings approaching the castle door.

Here, the tabaxi again interrupted. “What are tieflings?”

“Devils,” the stranger said, shaking their head and continuing.

He listened as the tieflings explored the castle until, with some surprise on their part, they found him. They lamented to the Marauder about how empty the city was, and told him about the pasts they were escaping – as traitors to their army, who had saved a city the tieflings were burning and stolen a ship to escape. They thought they’d been doomed when a heavy storm hit, but with a crack of lightning that sounded like a thousand dice rolling, the ship had been swallowed up and sunk through the sea until they docked here. 

“I’m glad there are others escaping,” he whispered, smiling as he looked upon the tieflings and died as he lived – among thieves. They buried him, with his last treasure of the winds, in the castle vault.

After his death, other lucky criminals continued to slowly trickle in from all walks of time, from the beginning of it to the known “present.” They found refuge in this little city that seemed to be defended and utterly isolated from the rest of time, where people made a living offering their strange goods and services in seclusion.

That was until one ordinary day, when doors opened onto four specific times. No one dared to exit, fearing their pursuers lay on the other side. After a few days, they closed again. Everything continued as normal until a few months later, the doors opened again. For some reason, the magic isolating the time bubble was flickering. 

As criminals who were eventually brave enough to venture out and lucky enough to have associates in those years made contact, the time market gained its first outside customers. It evolved into a black market known for stocking items so powerful, so dangerous, they would be illegal in any time or place. It also populated slowly with more common criminals that hadn’t been chosen to live in the market, until it became a small town of exiles. Now anyone fleeing punishment in those four times could try to find entrances, listening with attentive ear for talk of places with extensive ghost stories about mysteriously disappeared children and bewildered creatures spit out years past where they claimed to be from.

“This is one of those four times?” The tabaxi asked, with new hope in their eyes.

“Should be. I’ve been here for about a month, so the gate should open soon,” the stranger said. 

The thief staked a desperate bet on the stranger’s story, and sat waiting for a week, hiding in the bushes at every tabaxi that came to give the stranger rations and any sound that even vaguely resembled a horse’s hooves. Finally, the world opened up around them and they folded into time.

They bid farewell to the stranger. As they explored the market and reached the time doors, they spoke to people and learned that one of them opened to a faraway kingdom, about a year before their time in the forest. They thought about their escape from that forest, how they had thought they were utterly alone and prayed to every god they thought could help them, but standing before the doors, they slowly realized that even if a god didn’t intervene, they could help themselves. It would be simple – tell their past self what they knew now, and wait.

The next morning they set out into the past, hesitating only for a second before the doors. Muttering a prayer to Yl, they walked through the third one, with a message to deliver.

—

Sorry it took so long to get to the point- I thought this might be the easiest way to break this all to you. I remember reading this letter and being pretty incredulous even with the easing in. I think if you’ve made it here, though, I can’t really sidestep the weird time things anymore.

If you unfold this envelope carefully, and hold the insides up to the light, you’ll see a more detailed summary of how to escape, and then how to get around the market. On the back of this letter is a map of the path you’re taking to your prison. You should be able to – you have broken out at the edge of the forest and you can do it again. For the first time. Whatever.

I know I’m speaking of you doing all this as an inevitability, and that feels overconfident to you. Look, I know by the fact that I’m writing this letter that you’ll succeed- I couldn’t have lived to write this if I got executed or died somewhere along the way, right? 

Right. That’s all – I’ve given you everything I can and it’s all up to you now. 

Good luck.

-Tes

This theme reveal was written by Alice L., Theme Master of Super Dungeon 2022.

When Pupsilludo was once again aware of his surroundings, he noticed three things. One, he seemed to have all of his appendages intact. Good. Two, he was definitely, absolutely, not in the meeting plane anymore. He was in so much trouble. And three, most importantly, he was faaaaalllliiiiiinnnnngggggg!

“Ahhhhhh!!!!” As he sped toward the misty floor below him, Pupsilludo flailed his wings desperately, forgetting two important facts: one, he was in the form of a Kenku child and hence couldn’t fly, and two, he was a god and hence could fly with magic, not wings.

Thankfully, it seemed as though Pupsilludo wasn’t alone in this strange new place. With a fwoosh! he was suddenly picked up by a stream of air, saving him from a painful crash landing. After a bit of tossing and turning, Pupsilludo found himself gently set down on the…ground, he guessed? It really looked more like a layer of clouds – he could even see his claws sink slightly into the springy vapor.

Where…? Looking all around him, Pupsilludo saw an empty, cloudy space as far as he could see. Yet the place looked vaguely familiar. Had he been here before? Think Pupsilludo, think!

However, Pupsilludo didn’t get much time to search his memory for the place, as he was suddenly interrupted by a voice from behind.

“Huh. I thought you’d be bigger.” With a start, Pupsilludo jumped around, looking for the source of the sound. Standing behind him was a strange figure that seemed to be made out of the air itself. But it didn’t look like a standard air elemental – it had four long appendages that ended in claw-like things and a head adorned with…fur, maybe? Three pairs of wings sprouted from its back like Aarakocra, and it wore a long flowing garment. All in all, it was a very weird and foreign looking being. And what gave it the right to judge Pupsilludo?!

“What do you mean you thought I’d be bigger? I am perfectly fine as I am! And also, who are you? Where am I? What are you going to do to me???” Having said his fill, Pupsilludo paused to take a breath, the sound of his words still ringing through the empty landscape. The air spirit seemed to be unimpressed though, simply cocking its head to the side as it regarded him. 

“So many questions…are all the little bird people as loud and demanding as you?” The spirit gave Pupsilludo no time to respond though, simply continuing on. “But I suppose I do owe you some answers – I did abduct you and drag you to an unknown place, after all.” It was a bit hard to tell, given the whole made-of-air business, but Pupsilludo was at least 90% that the spirit gave him a snarky smile afterwards. What a horrible, rude spirit! He thought. But he also wanted answers, so he pushed down his pride and continued to listen. 

“I’ll answer your questions in order, little one. First, why did I expect you to be bigger? I meant no offense – you’re quite cute as you are – but gods tend to be…you know, bigger.” At this, the air spirit gestured at a point far above Pupsilludo’s head. “So I was simply a bit surprised that you were so small and young looking. How old are you anyways, little god?”

“Old enough.” Pupsilludo was not amused. Appearances could be quite deceiving! And he wasn’t about to give his true age to some random stranger air spirit. That seemed ill advised.

The air spirit shrugged nonchalantly. “If you say so. Size doesn’t matter for the purpose I need you for anyways. Next, who am I?” The air spirit cocked his head in the other direction and tapped one of his appendages against his chin, seeming to think. “That is a most excellent question. I know who I once was, and the names I was once called – Lord of the Air, Keeper of Secrets, The Unseen One, The One that Sees All, and so many more – yet I do not know what I am now, for who I once was I seem to no longer be now.”

Pupsilludo looked up at the air spirit blankly. “What?” The spirit was now talking like Vicnaritas on his most riddle-y days. He had no time for such nonsense! Pupsilludo still had questions he needed answers to!

“Hmm.” The spirit scrutinized him carefully, then sighed. “It seems you do not recognize me. Oh well, my name is not that important. All you need to know is that I am a denizen of this place, and that I have something quite interesting for you.” 

“What? That’s not an answer at all! Answer me prop-” Pupsilludo’s rant was abruptly cut off because he suddenly lost all the air in his lungs. What a mean spirit! It wasn’t playing fair!

The spirit continued to talk as if Pupsilludo wasn’t gasping and wheezing in front of him. “Let’s see, what was your next question again? Ah right, what is this place.” With a great flourish of its six wings, the spirit spread its arms and proclaimed, “Welcome to my humble abode, the elemental plane of air!” 

Following this statement, there was a moment of silence, punctuated only by the heaving breaths of Pupsilludo. The spirit stooped down to look Pupsilludo in the eye. “No reaction? Huh.”

Pupsilludo raised a wing to bat the spirit away, forgetting that it was made of air. Rather unfortunately, his wing simply passed right through it. Still, the spirit moved back a few inches, resuming its initial position. Glaring at it, Pupsilludo rasped, “Maybe I…would have had…more of a reaction…If you hadn’t…tried to suffocate me…a few seconds ago!”

“Well you seem fine now. Besides, you were perfectly safe.” It shrugged, seeming to remain just as apathetic as before. 

“Yeah well it’s still rude. Besides,” Pupsilludo gestured to the misty terrain around them. “I’ve been to the elemental plane of air before with my siblings. Granted, it was a long time ago, but it didn’t look anything like this.”

“Well, that’s because you probably went to the part that is open to the public. The inner sanctum here isn’t so easy to access. It’s dangerous too – without proper elemental shielding, the sheer force of the raw elemental energy here would tear anyone – whether mortal or god – apart into smithereens. It is only through my power that you’re standing here, little one.” 

Pupsilludo shivered. Was this serene environment really that dangerous? He certainly didn’t want to test it. “Ok, point taken. Now answer my last question – what are you going to do to me?”

The spirit smiled. “Perhaps the most important question of all, hmm? Don’t worry though. I simply want to show you something that may be of interest to you – and to me too.” As it said the words, the spirit began to dissolve, fading into the air around it.

“Hey! Wait! Where are you going?” Pupsilludo tried to grab at the vanishing spirit, but a gust of wind smacked his wing out of the way. “Pay attention and watch.” The spirit’s voice ordered. “You’ll see.”

“Okayyyy???” Looking around him, Pupsilludo saw nothing out of the ordinary. The cloudy floor curled around him, the ever present wind blew up strands of mist and – oh! The mist was coalescing into shapes. Wandering around, he watched as forms emerged – each with four long limbs and weird non-pointy claw-like things, much like the wind spirit. There were eleven total, and as the figures became more detailed, he saw that each was unique. This one had arms – so many arms that Pupsilludo couldn’t even count how many there were – that floated behind it and thin, delicate fish scales that dotted its skin. That one had a long thick tail, spotted like a salamander’s, and long flames that licked down its back. And that one wore more jewels than Lucretor!

Pupsilludo was so focused on the incredible detail of the misty sculptures (he swore he could see every scale on that one’s snake!) that he was unprepared for when they began to move. He started when the one he was in front of, half naked and with flaming chains, walked right through him. 

“Where is Sciear?” The figure sounded both angry and exasperated, as if this was not the first time this “Sciear” had been absent. 

“I am sure he is on his way.” The figure wearing way too many snakes for Pupsilludo’s taste replied, stroking one of the serpents encircling its neck. “He knows better than to miss such an important meeting.” 

The answer hardly seemed to appease the half-naked figure though. He turned toward two of the other forms, one dressed in loose fitting robes, another with short hair and voluminous cape. “Anemos, Kaelentia, do you know where your errant constellation is?”

“We cannot control his movements, anymore than you can control where the wind blows. He will be here when he is here. No sooner, no later.” The short-haired one’s reply was curt. Pupsilludo wasn’t quite sure whether that’s Kaelentia or Anemos, but he tried to keep the names in his head. That’s three names now – Kaelentia, Anemos, and the mysterious Sciear, who had yet to appear. 

But the scene wasn’t over yet. Another form moved. This time, it was dressed in chaste robes, much like those of priestesses, and carrying a lantern. It approached the half-naked figure and placed one hand on its shoulder. “Incendix, calm down. I’m sure he’ll be here soon enough. He has never missed a meeting.” 

The other figure angrily shook the hand off. “Well I, for one, am not going to wait idly by for his lateness. Need I remind you all that there is a hole in the sky?”

A hole? A hole?! This better be not what Pupsilludo thought it was…

“Ah yes, the hole! Though I’m more partial to calling it a rift.” A new voice broke through the conversation, and Pupsilludo looked up along with all of the forms. A new figure was slowly making its way down, with…six wings and a flowing garment? “Hey spirit! Where’d you go?” Pupsilludo shouted, but the spirit no longer seemed to hear him. Huh??? He supposed he’d have to figure it out later. Right now, he just watched as the spirit swooshed right past him and hovered over the half-naked figure. “And for your information, I was just gathering some last minute intel on that very subject. I’m sure you’ll all find it interesting.”

“Then you can start.” Pupsilludo turned to look at the new speaker – a figure with antlers like a deer, long flowing fur on its head, and fancy floor length robes. “Pray tell, illuminate us.”

“Gladly.” The six-winged spirit, now the center of everyone’s attention, rotated slowly with lazy flaps of its wings as it began. “I did a little investigation on the properties of the rift today – in fact, I was finishing up right before I came here. I discovered that it is, in some ways, exactly as it appears. It is a hole of sorts. I could throw objects through easily enough.” 

“So it’s a portal, perhaps?.” A figure draped in a flowing gown with water cascading from their head interjected. “Do we know where it leads?” 

“Unfortunately not. Once the objects entered, I could not find them again – not in the material plane or any of the hundreds of demiplanes I searched.” The spirit paused here, allowing the frantic murmurs to die down. Pupsilludo wished he was actually there – he was bursting with questions too! 

But the spirit wasn’t quite done yet. “Hush, hush, there’s more. I found that though I could enter the rift, I could not pass through it – not even the smallest feather could make it through. Every time I tried, it felt as though a force was keeping me out, as vast and impenetrable as a wall. Moreover…” The spirit paused again, but this time, it seemed more…contemplative, as if it were reconsidering its next words most carefully. After a moment though, it continued.

“I know you will not believe me. Quite frankly, I wouldn’t believe me either. But you can go check for yourselves later. The rift itself…felt like her doing.” 

A tense silence descended, but Pupsilludo barely noticed. His head was spinning with new questions, like who was this her? And also, who were these figures anyways? They didn’t look like mortals – but surely, they weren’t gods?

Yet another new voice jolted Pupsilludo from his frantic thoughts. This one came from the figure who seemed to be a weird amalgamation of plant and animal. “You’re right. It is hard to believe. After all, she-”

They’re cut off by the furious voice of another figure, and Pupsilludo whipped around to see the flaming hair of the salamander-tailed figure flaring. “Hard to believe?! It’s impossible! She has been inactive since the sealing 40 years ago. It cannot possibly be her doing. And how dare you mention her here, she who left us to deal with this mess by ourselves, she who-”

The voice abruptly cuts off – not because of some interruption by one of the figures, but because the misty figure itself was suddenly destroyed by a gust of wind. More gusts came, and Pupsilludo spun around in a panic, watching as the other forms were similarly destroyed.
What was happening? And why did the wind feel so much more…hostile now? Like it might cut his feathers if he wasn’t careful?

“My power wanes…” The voice of the spirit sounded right next to his ear, and Pupsilludo jumped in surprise. “For your own good, you cannot stay here any longer. Remember what you have seen, little bird. Until we meet again…”

“Wait!” Pupsilludo dug his talons into the clouds and reached out for the spirit, but his wings simply passed through the air fruitlessly. “Who were those people? Why were they also discussing a rift? Who is she? Come back! I still have so many questions for yooooouuuuu!” But alas, the winds were too strong. They swept Pupsilludo away from the spirit, and after a time, dumped him unceremoniously on top of the highest spire in Nidor.

Watching Pupsilludo depart his domain, the wind spirit cracked a smile before dissipating. The little bird person would have hardly been his first choice. But now, at least someone else knew. Now, there was hope.