This teaser was written by Pablo, DM for the 2022 D&D Super Dungeon. His first game will be held on July 9, 2022. For details and registration, visit our web page.

The wind tore through the ship’s open window, sending ink, quills, and pages flying across the wooden deck of my quarters along with the stinging rain. Roused from a dreamless sleep, I winced and surveyed the room. The room was shrouded in a stygian blackness, framing the light of the gibbous moon on my desk with the stroke of the master-artist. I slipped out of my cot and walked to the window. The cool sea breeze licked my face as I looked up at the moon, enchanted by the silvery halo that encircled it. The moon was enormous and I could make out faint shapes upon its surface. I imagined that I saw a city upon the moon, filled with picturesque moon-towers and inhabited by happy moon-folk. Engrossed by my own imagination, I looked closer at the surface of the moon until my eye fell upon an odd eye-like formation in its center. It was bulbous and wide and its dreadful pupil was fixated on the ocean below me. I too looked deep into that murky abyss, yet saw only the reflection of the ship, drifting gently through the night.

When the day finally broke, the Captain informed me that he had found me still at the edge of my window, staring forlornly at the lapping waves. He is nothing but an idiotic old sailor! I was not merely looking at the surface of the sea, but trying to grasp at the wonder that lay beneath it. Throughout the rest of the day, I was unable to accomplish any of my usual navigational tasks, instead poring over hoary tomes of pelagic and celestial lore, pilfered from the private library of our ship’s mage. My research proved to be fruitless however.

As night fell again, my mind began to cloud with the weight of a sleepless night. Yet I still had not discovered a morsel of the truth which I so desired. A sliver of moonlight, a boon from the full moon, crept its way up the leather-bound volumes I was reading. Its dim light settled on a particular passage of the Liber Crepusculum, a book purportedly written by a mad priest of old Zhar who disappeared along with the city all those years ago. It read:

The gods have gone mad! The oceans churn, the air twists, and the very ground beneath our feet threatens to give way. Only the stars remain faithful to our cause. In my communion with those great gods above, I have been granted sight beyond sight and know the horrible truth of it all. The skies shall weep for ten-thousand nights, and this deluge will end all life but those below the sea. Look only to the ringed moon which the stars have illuminated to foretell our demise!

What the senile old priest wrote was utter madness, foolishness beyond foolishness. Yet I felt drawn to his strange ramblings. I glanced again at the cold moon outside and studied its ethereal rings. The moon itself began to resemble a single unblinking eye, staring at the impending doom described by the lunatic cleric. A strange shape caught my eye in the moonlit waters, a rectangular shape standing alone among the submerged dunes. My eyes widened as I noticed more and more structures dotting the ocean plane. They were buildings! Just like the ones I imagined on the surface of the moon. The lost city of Zhar was not lost, but sunk beneath the sea to avoid the coming apocalypse.

The following morning, I was found yet again staring at the open ocean through my window. The captain ordered me restrained to the brig after hearing my earnest entreaties to save our own ship by sending it beneath the sea, in imitation of that great city. There was a fear uncharacteristic to his voice, and his skin appeared terribly soft and parched. To my horror it seemed that the affliction had set itself upon the whole of the crew overnight, rendering them all fleshy creatures incapable of even proper movement, nor entirely coherent speech. Then to add insult to injury, I heard the pattering of raindrops on the roof of the deck above. The prophecy of Zhar! The end times! I had to do something. With my waning strength I wrenched open the iron bars of my cell and set to work. I tore at the wooden planks beneath the ship with my scaled hands, desperately trying to save the lives of my crew. Wheezing for lack of water, I lost consciousness right as a burst of water exploded into the vessel. I can only hope I was fast enough.

This teaser was written by Elihu S., DM for the 2022 D&D Super Dungeon. His games will be held on Thursday evenings. For details and registration, visit our web page.

This teaser was written by Jonah L., DM for the 2022 D&D Super Dungeon. His games will be held on Thursdays. For details and registration, visit our web page.

I must not sphere. Sphere is the mind-killer

“How much do you know about the sphere, my child?” A middle-aged Kobold walked quickly across a wooden catwalk with a clipboard in one hand and a child’s hand in the other. Next to them is a transparent, giant, magical, sphere, suspended in the air holding a small island worth of earth. On this little land in the sphere stands a giant tree pressing its limbs against the edge of the sphere as if it’s either holding the sphere up or trying to escape. They stand in a hole carved out of the earth, a little pouch to hold the sphere. Many catwalks, platforms, outlooks, and doors extrude from the walls of this chasm. The sphere floats completely still, the only thing unmoving in this chattering canyon. 

The little kobold thought for a moment, “Well… it’s really old, and it’s really big but not too big, and there is a big tree in it!”  The child said excitedly.

“Good job! The sphere is an ancient anomaly that is made up of extremely powerful, undispellable spells. It is quite big, as you told me and this area had to actually be dug into to get to it after a landslide collapsed a lot of the surrounding area onto it. We research it because until those big cracks in the sky opened up, it was one of the most direct things connecting us to our past. We could trace plants today back to some of the plants inside of the sphere, which has been my main job here. It has had many researchers come and go, but its main use now is for ballistics testing, as the underneath of an unbreakable object makes testing explosions… somewhat safe? Anyways that’s what the goblins use it for. The Genera as a whole has been studying this sphere since we came into being. In fact, great great grea-”

“5th Great Grandma worked here which is why you’re so excited to start working here, you’ve told me a thousand times.”

The kobold continued on unperturbed,  “Exactly!  For all of time it has floated there unchanging, it was figured out long ago that the outer edge holding it all in is a modified wall of force that seemingly can’t be dispelled. On the inside, we aren’t so sure. “ The Kobold paused speaking to climb up a ladder. He waved at a warforged who was walking across the platform “Hey Cor!”

The warforged glanced tiredly at this energetic kobold, “Hi Braille. Didn’t know it was bring your kid to work day, today.”

“Well today is a special day, it’s the da-”

Cor interjected quietly, “Yes I’ve been up since 2 am yesterday morning preparing, I know all about it.”

Braille huffed “Well you don’t have to be rude!” He then took out a pocket watch and looked at the time, it was 8 in the evening. “Oh my, well, you can sleep now at least right?”

Cor sighed, “More work to do.”  Cor then trudged off.

Braille exclaimed, “We need more funding…” He then looked at his child, “What was I saying?”

“We’re going on a vacation to a city?” His child hoped.

“Oh, the sphere! Some think it’s an illusion, but many think that time in this area has stopped. The main reason being this.” Both stop on a platform close to the top of the sphere, where inside a leaf in the middle of falling floats inert. “Inside there is some grass, some flowers, and a door. Now the door, that’s the interesting part. “ At the base of the tree stands a door, made of dark metal, with archaic runes etched onto it. Braille handed a spyglass to the child, “This is a spyglass that translates messages read through it. Read the inscription on the door out loud for me.”

“In dire need of cleaning! Help wanted! Help needed!” The child read. 

“Which surely stumped the researchers who figured that out!” The kobold chuckled then looked up towards the sky, “Anyways, with the time rift opening up, we happened to discover that in Early Sostenus the sphere is gone. The inside of it is there but the forcefield has disappeared. We want to research the inside and find a way to dispel the forcefield, but it seems that dinosaurs and a little bit later, bandits have set up residence there, who don’t seem so accepting of research… So we’re going to send some adventurers to go, well, politely ask them to leave! If only I was an adventurer and could see it firsthand…” Braille walked across the platform to a door in the wall and straightened a bowtie. “Do I look good?”

“No.”

Braille ignored his child, “Well the adventurers are here!” Braille whispered excitedly “Let’s meet them!”

This teaser was written by Lily B., DM for the 2022 D&D Super Dungeon. Her character creation workshop will be on June 24th at 5PM EST. For details and registration, visit our web page.

The night the sky tore open, the opera house was brimming with fans. Crowds were packed mile-high to see Bulak the Warbler, a famed orc vocalist. Her performances had become a widely revered attraction across Sostenus as she told the tales of heroes and demons in -as the local critics called it- a distinctive musical experience. As people clamored into their seats, Gaylle Yelvaris took a deep sip of a fiery elixir. It had a sharp taste and stung like he swallowed a thorny rosebush. It was only temporary though; after a few minutes he would feel fine. Or, as fine as possible. The elixirs were the only thing that numbed Gaylle’s piercingly painful headaches. They’d been like this for weeks, eating away at his concentration and possibly his sanity. Ever since returning from his archaeology travels in the surrounding islands, he hadn’t felt the same. Perhaps he was just readjusting to life in his home city, he reassured himself. After all, it had been more than a century since he walked the streets of Cirrayne. Gaylle leaned back and settled into his seat. The lights faded to darkness and a single spotlight shone on Bulak as she began her ballad. 

Nearing the first act’s end, Gaylle felt himself growing bored. His thoughts wandered, dancing around the house. He craved the chill, early spring air outside, a relief from the stuffy atmosphere indoors. Gaylle was pondering leaving when an elderly gnomish woman beside him suddenly spoke.  

“Marvelous, isn’t it?” she remarked in a raspy, high pitched voice. She peered at Gaylle through oversized opera binoculars. He couldn’t help but notice the resemblance to a bird. 

“Hmm?” Gaylle answered, caught off guard.

“Her voice. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Oh. Oh, yes. Absolutely,” he stammered. The woman smelled heavily of perfume, not helping Gaylle’s claustrophobia in the slightest. He discreetly scooted to the far corner of his seat, keeping his face as far away as possible from the suffocating fragrance. 

“You know,” the woman continued wistfully, “I used to sing too. Back in the golden age of Sostenus. I was young, famous. I was a star!” Her voice cracked and was suddenly dripping with vexation. “I haven’t had work in years. My last gig was at a sleazy tavern. A tavern!” Gaylle recoiled, incredibly unsure of how to respond. 

“I-I’m awfully sorry about that” he said, as the woman shook her head in exasperation. Gaylle, desperate to escape the situation, stood up. “Pardon me, I’m feeling a bit warm. I may step out for a moment, if you could just-” Gaylle was cut short. Around him, the entire opera house rose, simultaneously conducting a standing ovation. He’d barely noticed the performance end. 

After Bulak took her bow, a tall elvish man took to the stage. Gaylle instantly recognized him, though it took a moment to fully realize the connection. It was Myrvilaur, the mayor of Cirrayne. Gaylle recalled waving to Myrvilaur at the city parades as a child, holding his mother’s hand. Since then, Myrvilaur hadn’t changed much, save for a few more wrinkles. 

Myrvilaur strided across the stage, his tailcoat flapping slightly. After reaching the center, he addressed the audience. 

“Good people,” he announced, his voice magically amplified, “thank you again for coming to see the lovely Bulak!” Myrvilaur flashed a smile so shiny it would make a thief go mad. “And of course, the orphanage will greatly appreciate every single coin coming from tonight’s benefit.” He paused momentarily, waiting for the cheers to die down. “And as an added treat, Bulak will be back in Cirrayne for our inaugural Heavenly Jamboree!” Once again, the audience erupted into applause. “Come one, come all to our festival of music, of food, of commerce! I’m sure-” Myrvilaur was interrupted by a heavy jolt protruding from the ground. Various spectators shrieked, clinging to their seats. A deep rumble sounded from the sky. 

The opera goers rushed out the door, forming a massive crowd on the front street. Townsfolk emerged from their front doors, the majority in their sleep garb. An elvish child rubbed her eyes tiredly, half-asleep in her father’s arms. The herd of people gasped collectively, staring at the sky. The heavens were dotted with stars like every other night. But a gash bled across the night, exposing the infinity beyond the atmosphere. Colors beyond comprehension glistened as the denizens of Cirrayne watched in awe and horror. 

“What in Sciear’s name is that,” Gaylle mumbled as a lonely figure plummeted from the rift.

This teaser was written by Hannah Lee, Con Director and DM for the 2022 D&D Super Dungeon. Their virtual games will be held on Wednesdays from 9:30am-12:30pm. For details and registration, visit our web page.

Buried deep beneath the peaceful forests of Trinka, a quiet story has been told a hundred times. It is a conversation carved in stone and told in the face of mountains. For far too long, it has remained unheard. But one day, a refugee from the demiplane of dreams stumbled upon a cavern too large to have been carved by underground waters, its floor shaped in familiar segments. After excavating the cave-ins and hollowing out a place to live, the delicate calcite structure of a rib cage as large as a house, a spine longer than a train, and a head larger than any Firbolg could dream were exposed.

The bones of these lost giants cast long shadows among the Firbolgs, Kalashtar, and Kobolds who lived on the island. Myths of ancient creatures had long lived in the imaginations of the caretakers of the forest, but each tree they consulted and each creature they spoke to had only inklings of memories that had been passed down from generation to generation. Perhaps, they wondered, the fish that lived in the shallows of the deep lakes could tell them. Perhaps the moss? They begged the Little God to shed light on the mystery to no avail. 

It was a tale that could not be translated until, one day, the sky broken open and travelers unlike anything the animalfolk had ever known began to share their own stories.

Stories where Giants wandered, leaving footprints that transformed into lakes.

Stories where Kings built underwater bridges and spires that sang ethereal melodies in desert winds.

Stories where monsters dwelled in deep caverns and where kingdoms of peoples hoarded magic treasures beyond scholarly belief and gods were defeated by mortal hands.

And as curiosity in this world grew, so did disbelief. When guilds gained access to the passages beneath the mountains of Trinka, something incredulous was discovered.

They found, of all things, goblin remains surrounded by mysterious, fragrant seeds. The problem? When traced to define their origin, Chronologists found the owners of the skeletons, still breathing, in their homes two continents away, completely unaware that they were supposed to have been killed two million years ago.

Thus, as adventurers began to equip themselves to foray into the unknown rift, this small group of Chronologists begged them to resolve this mystery and prove, once and for all, the goblins were, in fact, dead and time could make sense again.

Will you be one of these adventurers? Or will you stumble into a story all your own?

The Coffee Goblins will run on Wednesday mornings, 9:30AM-12:30PM EST, beginning June 29.

This teaser was written by Paul G., one of our Dungeon Masters for the 2022 D&D Super Dungeon. His character creation workshop will be on June 18, at 6:00PM EST with DM Pablo. For details and registration, visit our web page.

Che threw the lasso up, tugging on it to make sure it had caught on the rocks above. It didn’t budge, so he jumped off the rowboat and planted his feet firmly on the cliffside, narrowly missing the water below. Che forced a foot up, planted it down, then moved the other. Slowly, he inched up the cliffside. After about five minutes of this, Che could see that he was almost at the top. He glanced down, and shut his eyes tight at the dizzying height. If he were to fall now, then… splat. That would be the end of ‘Master Treasure Hunter Che Thire.’ Che made the last few steps up the cliff, collapsing on top, panting. Che looked up to see a teenage elven girl holding the end of the rope, with red marks on her hands and pain contorted across her face, her arms shaking. She had bright blue hair, and incredibly pale skin. However, both these were mostly covered by the midnight black robe she was wearing.

“Chastine…” Che panted. “Why didn’t you just hook the rope onto a rock?” Chastine looked up at him, offended, ask if he had just insulted her.

“You’re heavier than you realize.” She said, her voice delicately quiet. “I could’ve slipped and dropped the rope trying.” Che got up, looking at the burns on Chastine’s hands. He took one of them, pouring some water from his waterskin onto a cloth and rubbing it, then doing the same with the other. “Thanks.” Chastine said, wincing from the pain. Che gazed up at the giant castle before them. Peford Castle. Where the king hoarded all his treasure and magic-users. He walked closer to one of its dark, giant windows, staring through it into the dark room. Chastine walked next to him, shivering.

“Chastine, this is your first real job. If you’re not cut out for it, it’s fine. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Che forced out of his mouth, even though he knew that Chastine was vital to this heist. 

“As if I’d chicken out now.” Chastine scoffed.

“Thought so.” Che replied, glancing at Chastine before walking over to one of the enormous walls. Chastine followed, grabbing onto one of the rough, weathered stone bricks. “What the heck are you doing?” Che asked, watching Chastine put her other hand up and then one of her feet.

“Climbing.” Chastine replied, looking at him with a confused stare. “What are you doing?”

“Using the door.” Che chuckled, walking over to the flimsy wooden thing and inserting a lockpick.

“Oh.” Chastine replied, jumping down. “So you want to add breaking and entering to your charges?” she asked.

“You wanna climb, go ahead.” Che replied. “Besides, they have more than enough reason to arrest me already. Doesn’t matter if I do anything else now.” He could tell that Chastine wanted to ask what the other reasons were, but he hurriedly turned the lock and pushed the door open before she could. Che took a quick glance inside, and seeing no one but arrays of flowers, crept in. Chastine grabbed his shoulder, pulling Che back to look at her. She was slightly taller than he was, and much older. However, Che was the most experienced one here. Why was she stopping him? Don’t think like that… Che thought furiously. You’ll be just like him if you do. Chastine stepped into the doorway and scanning the area, probably looking for any signs of magic.

“One of the doors has a magical alarm on it.” Chastine said. “We’ll have to take the bigger one.”

“The bigger one leads to the trophy room.” Che said. “We would’ve taken it anyways.” Che looked back at Chastine, and she seemed a little hurt. “Sorry.” Che grumbled as they walked towards the large metal door.

“Sorry?” Chastine said in faked shock. “I’m simply honored, Che of the Thire court.” Thire Court… Che thought. That has a nice ring to it. He slowly pushed open the rusty metal door, this time letting Chastine look into the room first. “All clear.” She said, stepping in. Che followed, looking around the room. It was practically glowing, shelves upon shelves filled with gold and silver and all sorts of treasures. And there, on a pedestal, below two crossed swords mounted on a wall, was what they had came for. The Amulet of Ludivicia. Che picked it up, noticing a plaque above it. It read:

The gods gifted us this power
Because of our own.
We must use this in our darkest hour
To brave the last unknown.

Che furrowed his brow. What the heck does that mean? He thought, concentrating. All that Che knew about this amulet was that it was priceless. Chastine walked up next to him, glancing around his hood to Che’s confused face.

“You really don’t know any history, do you?” She asked, holding her hand out for the amulet. Che passed it to her, still transfixed by the poem. Chastine took off her hood, putting the amulet around her neck. It looked strange on her, an almost glowing piece of gold and diamond next to pale white skin and black cloth. “They say that an ancient emperor of peford fought off a giant squid that was attacking boats in the harbor. That squid was supposed to be nearly the size of this castle. Anyways, Ludivicia gave him this amulet because she was so impressed. It’s said to have extreme magical powers. Ludivicia told him that his people would need this amulet someday, but for now he had to take it and join the elves in the north. The emperor didn’t listen, and Ludivicia killed him.” Chastine poured out. “Wow.” Che said. “Where’d you have room to breathe in there?” Suddenly, Che spotted something behind Chastine. A man was standing, on the end of the hallway, seemingly scared. Noticing that Che was looking past her, Chastine spun around, startling the armored man further. The man gulped, and shouted:

“Everyone! The elves are attacking!” And with that, he ran forward, sword drawn, shouting nonsense. Chastine pivoted, as did Che, and they began running down the halls in the opposite direction. Why would he think the elves are attacking? Che thought. I’m a human, after all. And Chastines not even fully grown. Chastine took the lead, turning left and right through the halls of the castle. They often had to duck under swords and arrows, cheating death at every turn. Just as they could see a set of large blue doors ahead, a woman in robes ran from another hall, blocking their exit.

“An elf and a human. How peculiar…” The woman said, holding her hands up. Little sparks of lightning crackled on her palms. Her black and gold robes fluttered in a nonexistent wind. Chanstine pulled off the amulet, then placed it around Che’s neck.

“Go. Run.” She said, kissing him on the cheek. “I love you.” Che opened his mouth, but no words came out. “Go! Now!” Chastine yelled, pointing to the hall where the woman had come from. Che could see an open window in it, and took his chance. The woman didn’t seem to notice the amulet, or just didn’t care, and focused on Chastine.

“How sweet.” She said while Che forced himself through the window. He heard booms of thunder, and the whoosh of fire from inside. Chastine is a sorcerer. Che tried to convince himself. She’ll be fine. And so Che ran, back through the streets, past the guards, gripping the amulet the whole time. And not once did he look back.