This teaser was written by Ella Sheffield, Theme Master for the 2022 D&D Super Dungeon. For details concerning the upcoming Super Dungeon, visit our web page.

When the rift first yawned open in the sky above Ritenus, not many people noticed. It was a dreary, haze-filled morning, and at the moment of appearance, dawn light had only just begun to brighten the streets of New Keteratonik. All sensible people were still home in bed, and most of the insensible ones were passed out in alleyways. But in one dingy newspaper office, not far from the airship docks, a coffee-stained kenku was at the tail-end of an all-nighter when he happened to glance out the window. Dennik Scratchings may only have been the editor of a minor tabloid, but he knew a front page story when he saw one. The Daily Dungeon had its newspaper boys out on the streets while the editors of the other papers were still busy gaping at the sky.

As the first one to report on the rift, Dennik figured that he practically counted as its discoverer – and he made sure to repeat this as often as he could. It gave the paper a pleasant burst of attention, but Dennik knew it would die down in a few days if he didn’t find some way to keep ahead of the news. People didn’t just want to be told that the rift was there, after all – they could see that with their own two eyes. No, they wanted answers, and Dennik thought he knew where to get some.

***

From the outside, the governor’s office was a towering palace built after the style of old Praxlarri temples, but from the inside it was a warren of identical hallways and harried interns. The governor himself was an aging dragonborn draped in ill-fitting robes and carefully nursing a headache. He was friendly enough towards the reporter, but every question was met with polite obfuscation and meaningless promises. Eventually, frustrated, Dennik closed his notebook. It was at that point that the governor leaned forward, a serious look in his eyes. “Be careful what you write in that paper of yours, won’t you? We wouldn’t want to cause a panic, as it were.” Dennik opened his mouth to reply, but the old dragonborn continued in a thoughtful tone. “Yes, write something optimistic, something that indicates that we’ve got it all under control. It’s best to keep the order.” And with that, he waved a hand and the reporter was dismissed.

Dennik was somewhat disquieted, but not surprised, by the governor’s attitude. He hadn’t truly expected any answers from the dragonborn – everyone knew that he was practically a figurehead for the banker’s guild, anyway. But it wouldn’t have been a good look to print statements from guild leaders without at least attempting an audience with Praxlarr’s official representative. His next stop would hopefully be more productive. 

***

It took several minutes for Dennik’s eyes to adjust to the gloom of the library’s basement. The air was cool, and only a few flickering faerie lights illuminated the labyrinthine bookshelves. A soft rustling from the left told him that he wasn’t alone, and he stepped forward, calling out a greeting. A shape slowly came into view between the shadows, of a serpentine woman seated at a desk piled high with papers, books, and incomprehensible instruments. She looked up with poorly disguised impatience. “What do you want?”

Dennik frowned. “I sent ahead a message – I’m here to interview the Society of Scientific Researchers about recent events. You’ve seen the rift, I assume?”

“I read about it,” she said, tossing a hand vaguely at one of the ink-stained stacks on her desk. “What exactly was your question?”

“Well, what is it?”

“What is it?” she repeated. The scientist appeared to mull that over for a moment. “If you’re asking for our leading theories, then it’s plain to anyone with eyes and an ulvitameter that this is no extraplanar boundary leakage. That leaves either a psychogenic effervescence effect, as predicted by Cassander and collaborators, or an interwordly temporal dissonance of external origin. If you ask me, the most important result of this is the complete contradiction of the Arcane Academy’s theory of materialistic arcana.” She seemed to relish that last sentence for a moment. “I cannot wait to see Remaier’s face when my next paper is published.”

Dennik could tell at a glance that asking for a simpler explanation would be fruitless. Instead, he dutifully copied down her words – maybe some egghead among the readers would be able to decipher it – and took his leave.

***

Dennik had never quite gotten used to riding the train. He preferred his talons safely on the street, thanks you very much, not careening wildly across a swaying bridge, shrouded in steam and sparks. But apparently this evening commute was the only time available to meet with the head of the tinker’s guild, so Dennik gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the screeching of the iron behemoth beneath him. The artificer was a young, bald goblin who grinned at the reporter on his approach. “So!” they said cheerfully. “What do you want built? A new printing press? I’ve got one made of dragonsteel and lightning that’ll about triple your efficiency, so long as your paper is fireproof, or – ooh, how about an automated news delivery system? Our accuracy with the Door-Door system has nearly reached 80% – just think, you can have your news delivered to readers right to their breakfast tables! And what about-”

Dennik finally managed to cut across the artificer’s chatter. “I don’t want anything built, actually. I’m here to ask about your thoughts on the rift. Has your guild been taking any action towards investigation?”

The goblin switched tracks with lightning speed. “Oh, sure, we’ve been doing plenty! So far our labs’ve been unable to replicate the effect, though it’s not for lack of trying! We’ve opened portals to plenty of interesting places, but none seems to quite match – that’s what a supernatural phenomenon will do for ya, I guess! The obvious priority is getting up there, but most of our current aircraft aren’t much designed to withstand a powerful magical field like that one, nor are they particularly maneuverable! We’ve got a new design in the works – it amounts to basically strapping magical dynamite and a couple controls to a pilot’s pod, yeah, but it should be practically impervious to unforeseen environmental conditions in or through that portal there! Plus it’s fast, too!”

“You think it’s a portal, then?” Dennik fit in.

“Sure, what else would it be? Like as not Yl’s up to her old tricks again, trying to pull us someplace more interesting now we’re finally getting a handle on how this world works!”

Ah. Dennik recalibrated his approach to the conversation. The zealous of Yl’s followers were – well, unpredictable was one description. Dangerous anarchists with no regard to their own safety was another. Not all of her followers were like that, of course, but it still took a special sort of mind to persist in believing in a god when all evidence pointed irrefutably to the fact that she’d died two centuries ago. Rather than push the issue, the Dennik simply nodded politely and let the artificer ramble on as the train continued on its way.

***

Just over a week later, Dennik was at the front of the crowd as the governor delivered a perfectly tedious speech beneath the rift. Behind him were arrayed a party of intimidating warriors, the finest of the Adventurer’s Guild, each prepared to risk their lives for the benefit of Ritenus. Like the others, he suffered through the formal pageantry of the farewell, and surged forward eagerly to watch the heroes climb into the tinkerer’s contraption. With a deafening roar and a rush of light and smoke, the ship thrust itself skyward, spiraling up and up and up, and finally crashing into the gaping hole and vanishing with a shiver.

There were several moments of loaded apprehension as each animalfolk stared eagerly upwards. As it gradually became clear that the adventurers weren’t coming back, the crowd slowly and reluctantly began to disperse. It was several hours before the last stragglers finally went home, Dennik among them. He was determined not to miss out on the next part of the story, even if it meant throwing himself through the rift after them. But even so, he had to admit that standing in an empty field grew tedious after a time. 

***

Nearly three weeks had passed with no news, and talk of the rift had gradually begun to die out. Dennik, however, had not given up. Letters and Sendings had streamed from his house every day, carried out of the city by tiny animated constructs or the spells of apprentice wizards, winging their way to contacts all over the isles. Eventually, finally, a letter was returned.

The next day, a new headline appeared on the front of the Daily Dungeon. HEROES DISCOVERED, it read in eye-catching font. ARCHAEOLOGICAL DIG IN FROZEN WASTES REVEALS REMAINS OF CRAFT was the subtitle, and the rest of the paper was emblazoned with grainy images of machinery buried among fossils and quotes from experts that swore to the authenticity of the result. At the bottom of the page, in stark black ink, was the only statement that the Adventurer’s Guild had given:

“We’re going to need more heroes.”

This teaser was written by Alice Liu, Theme Master for the 2022 D&D Super Dungeon. For details concerning the upcoming Super Dungeon, visit our web page.

“Mr. Bard! Mr. Bard!” The innocent and ear piercing shouts of children stopped Ernest Jennings in his tracks. Turning around, he spotted the source of the sound – a brown haired head weaving in and out of the crowds of market-goers, its erratic movement punctuated by shouts of “Wait up!”. Amused, he decided to wait and see what the commotion was all about. All around him, the hustle and bustle of the marketplace never ceased. Though the harvests of the past few years had been bad on Sostenus, it seemed as though this year’s had turned out alright. He watched as the brown head – now joined by a red and blonde head – swerved to avoid two workers carrying a crate of apples and chuckled again. Finally, a face popped out of the crowd in front of him.

“Huh. So you really did wait.” The little brown haired girl, no more than 8 or 9, squinted up at him before breaking into a smile, showcasing the gap between her front teeth. 

“Most…adults would have just…ignored us,” her blonde friend wheezed. Already bent over halfway, he was clearly not the most athletic. The third girl said nothing, simply watching Ernest with grass green eyes while fiddling with one of her red braids. 

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not like most adults.” Ernest quipped back. “Now tell me, what was so urgent that you all felt the need to tear after me like horses?”

“Oh!” The brown haired girl jumped guiltily, then continued. “It’s just that the marketplace is sooooo boring, and we thought you’d be able to tell us a story to pass the time!”

Ernest raised an eyebrow. So that was all it was? Though he should hardly be surprised – what else did he expect from children? Looking up at the sky, he saw that it was not yet midday. He supposed he could entertain them for a bit – the next town was close enough that he didn’t need to set out just yet.

“Very well then. I suppose I am at your service. Are there any particular tales you want to be told?” As he replied, he ushered the three kids into a nice shady spot under a tree – after all, there was no need for them to keep blocking the road.

“You should tell the tale about Lymqua and the leviathan!” The brunette exclaimed.

“No, no, we’ve heard that story a hundred times.” Her blond haired friend glared at her, then jabbed Ernest in the side. “You should tell the story about King Ajax instead.”

“What do you mean he should tell that story instead?!” The brown haired girl indignantly side eyed her friend.“We’ve heard that one a million times! And it’s a boring story too. Who cares about him?”

As the two children began to squabble, Ernest sighed and turned to the red haired girl, who still hadn’t said a word. She’s watching her two companions disinterestedly – perhaps this is a common occurrence for her. To be honest, her silence and aloofness unnerved Ernest. Still, she’s the only one who’s paying attention right now. 

“Your friends seem to have very strong opinions on what they’d like me to tell. What kind of story do you want to hear, then?” he asked.

The red haired girl turned and stared at him once more, eyes gleaming. Now that he has a better view of things, her eyes reminded him more of emeralds – hard and cold – than grass. She paused for a moment, as if analyzing him, then finally spoke. “The story of the origin of this world. Do you know that one, sir?”

“That story? Of course I do!” Ernest is almost surprised at the ordinary nature of her request. Though really, what was he expecting? The girl was just a quiet girl, nothing more. Maybe he hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night. “I’d be happy to tell it to you, but…you’ll have to do something about them first.” He jabbed a thumb at her companions, who had now progressed from verbal arguments to full out tussling on the grass. 

The red haired girl sighed, then, quick as a cat, grabbed the ear of one and the hair of the other, dragging them with surprising strength to the base of the tree and plopping them down. “Hush, you two. He’s not going to tell either of those stories. Now be quiet. He’s about to begin.”

~~~

In the beginning, there was nothing. Velvet blackness encapsulated a cosmos that was little more than the leftover bits of creation, floating aimlessly here…and there. And the world would have remained this way, had two beings not emerged out of this void. Ylanous, Lady of Chaos, and Kyrassous, Lord of Order.

Finding themselves in a boring, barren place, the two set out to reshape the world, guiding errant specks of matter together and arranging them into more interesting shapes. Their creations continue to form the basis of the world even now. 

But with new elements come new domains, and with new domains come the need for new gods to watch over them. Thus emerged the greater constellation gods – Lymqua, Arbellux, Sciear, and Faterra, each born of the element they now preside over. At first, their influence was so small that Ylanous and Kyrasous didn’t even notice the fledgling deities. When they finally did, a great debate ensued between the two. Should these strange new beings be allowed to persist? Kryassous thought not. There was no need for new gods, who would only serve to disturb the established order of things. Ylanous thought differently – after all, more gods meant more chaos, and she was all for that. But she also knew such arguments would be useless against Kyrassous. So she told him the world was already growing far too complicated for only two gods. Why should they refuse helping hands? Gradually, Ylanous’s arguments wore Kryassous down. The new gods could stay – for now.

As the influence of the greater constellations grew, they began to carve out swatches of the world for themselves – now our four elemental planes. 

But the elemental planes were not the same as they are now, neatly separated, one from the others. Back then, they mixed at the edges. Air swirled with water, water seeped through earth, earth dampened fire and fire flickered through air. Within this bubbling boiling mess, the first inklings of new life emerged – the World Dragon, which ravenously consumed everything it touched. It sucked up the fire, water, air and earth of the planes and made them a part of itself, growing larger and stronger with each meal. 

Sensing this disturbance and the gradual consumption of their domains, the greater constellations appealed to Ylanous and Kryassous to do something to stop the beast. Their requests fell on deaf ears – Ylanous and Kryassous had decided not to interfere. They were curious what would happen. Would these young, yet unchallenged gods hold their own? Were they worthy of staying?

Seeing that no higher intervention would save them, the four gods gathered their strength and set out to slay the World Dragon. The fight was long and hard, but eventually the World Dragon ceased to move, pierced by earth, choked by water, scorched by fire and battered by wind.

However, the World Dragon’s colossal body, imbued with all four elements, did not fade back into the nothingness. Instead, it began to change, morphing into something new. Its flesh dissolved into soil and earth, its teeth became stones, its bones formed the mountains. Its free flowing blood became oceans and rivers. Its breath formed the air and the clouds. One eye became the sun, the other the moon, and its scales flew up to form the stars. 

Atop the highest peak of this new plane – our Material Plane – an egg appeared. With its iridescent scales and far-reaching aura, all the gods could tell that it was the World Dragon’s egg. The greater constellations immediately moved to destroy it – for no one wanted a repeat of the last World Dragon. But their attacks were blocked by Ylanous and Kyrasous, who thought this new world needed a ruler, someone to regulate the mixing of the elements in this new plane, and that this fledgling god would serve nicely.

To prevent the World Dragon from ever growing powerful enough to destroy the elemental planes, they set up a cycle. The World Dragon would have a finite lifespan, and each time it died, it would be reborn and consume its own body to gain power. Then it would enter an endless sleep – no longer would it consume elemental energy to grow. 

Thus the World Dragon was allowed to hatch, and it sleeps in the center of our world to this day, sustaining all life and magic in Sostenus. So too, was our world created – the world we now live and die in.

~~~

“Huh.” The brown haired girl leaned back and scratched her head. “Is that really how Sostenus was created?”

“Of course it is! Haven’t you ever heard that story before?” Her blonde friend puffed out his chest, seeming proud. 

“Don’t act like you know better than me! I know lots of things you don’t!” And with that, the two friends launched into a new argument. 

Ernest was so busy watching the two kids fight and reminiscing about his childhood that he didn’t even notice the gradual dying down of the constant murmur of the marketplace. But the red haired girl did. Turning around, she immediately let out a soft gasp at the sight and reached back to tug on Ernest’s shirt.  

“Mr. Jennings, you should look behind you.” Though her words were quiet, Ernest could hear the unease in her voice. Even her two friends stopped fighting, perhaps tipped off by her strange tone. (And how did she know his name?)

Looking backwards, he found himself at a loss for words. There was a…a rip in the sky, he supposed. Just looking at it made his head hurt. All around him, the marketplace was coming alive again, but this time the people were not concerned about the price of tomatoes or haggling over pieces of pottery. They were all fixated on the..thing…in the sky. Ernest could understand their confusion and fear – even he, with all of his stories and travels, had never seen or even heard of anything quite like it. And as he stood there, there was only one thought in Ernest Jennings’ mind:

This bodes poorly.

Last year’s D&D Super Dungeon had over 45 games to play for young adults across the state. This year, we’re going national! With participants from across the country (and Scotland!) and over 70 planned games, this Belmont-grown virtual Super Dungeon is reaching new heights, led by our very own local high school and college-age volunteers. Watch this teaser video for the theme reveal of this summer’s next big adventure.

The video will go live at 3:30 PM on Tuesday, May 3rd. Want more details? Visit our webpage here.