Vicky and Mark grew up in Westbury, a small town with only one bakery and one butcher—a place where everyone knew everyone. Growing up, they lost friends to wilderness creatures and monsters, so they became self-sufficient, the type who hunted for their own meat. In this tight-knit community, everyone was used to fending for themselves.

  As childhood friends, Vicky and Mark fell in love, and it was obvious to the whole town that they were meant for each other. When they were old enough, their parents helped them build a small house just over the hill from their family homes so they could always stay close.

  Vicky and Mark had a secret: after getting married, they took a honeymoon trip to the "big town" of Sylvan—but instead of sightseeing, they signed up as adventurers. In this world, adventuring meant defending villages from strange creatures, exploring uncharted lands, and mapping lost areas devastated by wars and fires. They spent a few years on adventures, earning enough money to retire back home, though they occasionally still took on quests for extra cash.

  Their secret wasn’t well-kept; Mark’s father drunkenly revealed it to the chief (who also served as the town mayor), who now held it over their heads. The chief viewed adventurers as lowly, so he often assigned Vicky and Mark small tasks around town, despite not realizing they were already retired adventurers. This dynamic had persisted for over a decade.

  One mystery of their adventuring life was the roadhouses, secret stops only known to adventurers. Around 20-25 years ago, these identical, small buildings had started appearing along the roads—simple bars with the same design, sometimes stocked with supplies, other times empty. Travelers would occasionally find a well-marked path leading to one of these roadhouses where they could rest for the night.

  Each roadhouse had the word "Roadhouse" written above the door in two languages: one everyone could read, and another no one understood. Inside, the setup was like an open-air saloon with bedrooms upstairs and a fireplace for cooking.

  On a recent trip to Sylvan to renew their Guild memberships, Vicky and Mark met an old friend, Marvin, who was showing around a new adventurer named Bob. When they brought up the roadhouses, Bob was intrigued—he had never encountered one. Marvin explained that these strange buildings had appeared years ago, and adventurers were still puzzled by them.

  Vicky shared her own observations. She had noticed a small, carved table in each roadhouse, with unique symbols etched into it. Curious, she had been jotting down the designs in her notebook. When she showed them to the group, Bob had an idea. He borrowed two pages from Vicky’s notebook, cut them into smaller pieces, and recreated the carvings. By aligning the patterns, they realized the symbols formed an image of a mountain, with each symbol marking a specific spot on the mountain’s path.

  Excited by the discovery, Bob wanted to join Vicky and Mark on their next trip to a roadhouse. Marvin, committed to a town contract, asked if Vicky and Mark could take Bob under their wing for the next few weeks. They agreed, planning a route that would include a stop at one of the roadhouses on their way back to Westbury.

  Bob thanked them, and as they continued chatting, he asked if they had ever found anything unusual behind the roadhouse bars. Vicky explained that every roadhouse held a small trinket or item left behind by someone, and that she and Mark had a tradition: whenever they took something, they left something in return. This rule intrigued Bob, who vowed to follow it.

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  Later, Bob was formally assigned to Vicky and Mark’s team by the Guild. The Guild required all new adventurers to be evaluated by an experienced team before venturing alone. Although Bob would eventually go on solo trips, for now, he was looking forward to his first visit to a roadhouse and the secrets it might reveal.

  The journey to deliver the mail and then head to the Roadhouse was a quick, intense trip. They’d set out, driving their horses hard for the full day and a half. The moment they reached their destination, they’d swap horses and repeat the journey back. It was good money for government work, and Bob appreciated the extra coin—his share came to 17 silver. For Bob, who didn't have much to his name, this was a small fortune.

  With part of his earnings, Bob paid a silver to rent a horse for the night and even tipped an extra silver in case he was late in returning it. The stable hand, knowing Bob, appreciated the gesture. “Keep it safe and come back alive,” he said, as the three of them set out for the Roadhouse.

  When they finally arrived, the place looked like an old-time saloon with a touch of modernity. There was a rail for the horses and a trough—though it was empty. Without a word, Bob went around back, searching for a pump, and he found it. But this was no ordinary pump. It was foot-powered, and when he stepped on a stone plate, water poured from a pipe. To Bob, this was something magical, and he couldn’t explain it. He filled a bucket, brought it to the horses, and told Vicky and Mark, who were amazed. They’d seen that piece of metal before, but never realized it was a water pump.

  With the horses cared for, they stepped into the Roadhouse. The instant Bob reached for the door, it opened as if on its own, and closed quietly behind him. The air was thick with an eerie sense of anticipation.

  Bob had introduced himself as “Bob” to Vicky and Mark, but his birth name was Jebediah. He’d changed it after a strange dream, where he met a faceless old man in a boundless white and black space who spoke of dungeons and a man named Bob. From that night on, he’d adopted the name as his own.

  As they entered the inn, Mark called from upstairs, “Hey, Bob, you know what room you want?”

  The moment Mark said “Bob,” the Roadhouse sprang to life. Shutters flew open, candles spontaneously lit, and the upstairs bathrooms filled with hot water. Behind the bar, a rag floated into the air and began polishing a glass, as though an unseen bartender was tending to the place. Bob stared in awe. He couldn’t explain it, and Vicky and Mark were equally stunned.

  Suddenly, words began to form on the dusty mirror behind the bar: “Welcome Bob,” written by an invisible hand. In the same instant, every light snuffed out, leaving only a single candle by Bob, which flickered out a few seconds later. Shaken, they debated whether to stay, but Bob decided he’d stay, so Vicky and Mark stayed as well.

  Later, as they were settling in, Vicky went to check the baths and found two tubs full of steaming hot water. Overcome with excitement, she screamed, causing Bob and Mark to rush to her side, only to see her already halfway undressed, eager to soak. Mark assured Bob she was fine, and soon they all took turns with the hot baths, much to their delight.

  That night, they sat around the fireplace, sharing a warm meal, talking over the strange happenings at the Roadhouse. On the table before them, they noticed faint carvings that seemed to form a path leading into the nearby hills. When they stepped outside to examine it, they saw the start of a narrow footpath, almost invisible unless you knew where to look. They agreed to follow it the next day, curiosity about the trail’s destination getting the better of them.

  Meanwhile, deep within the mountain, something was watching them. It shifted through tunnels, settling in to await its guests. The Roadhouse was just the beginning of the mystery that would unravel in the days to come.