Arrived to Rubury
When we crossed the border into the scattered villages beyond the frontier, I could feel it immediately—lawlessness hanging in the air, the kind where people watch you from behind shutters and don’t wave back. Perfect place for trouble. And profit.
Rubury was the first real settlement we found: barely a hundred houses, but boasting an inn, a priest, Serelle’s general store, a mage, an herbalist, and a handful of local thugs pretending to be a militia. Charming.
Serelle, an elven storekeep with sharper eyes than my own, greeted us first. She seemed honest. Shame.
At the inn, I slipped Gail the gold coin to secure our free meals and lodging. In return, he sent us to Worlis the mage—“he might have work for you,” he said. We also heard about Breyla, the mayor—loud, terrifying, and formerly a simple villager. Her poor husband Timothy must sleep with one eye open.
While wandering town, I swear I saw a rat teleport. Blink—gone. Either magic, or the wine was stronger than advertised.
Worlis the mage was exactly what you’d expect from someone expelled from the Wanton academy for “financial issues,” which clearly meant losing too many gambling games. His home was a hoarder’s labyrinth of scrolls, junk, curios, and more junk. He didn’t notice when a particularly sleek, seductive dagger vanished. Into my pocket.
From there, we visited Jan the herbalist. Olga and the sorcerer started flirting with him so aggressively that I felt like I should charge admission. We left with some DIY potions that will definitely either help or catastrophically explode.
Our barbarian insisted on checking the sawmill next. He thought they had “cave problems.” They didn’t. They had redcaps nearby, but the workers just pretended the murderous little fey weren’t there. Admirable optimism.
We met Breyla on the street—stern, unimpressed. She told us not to cause trouble. If she needed us, she’d call. She also mentioned work with the hunters: find Ziri, their best tracker.
Rubury also had a delightful tradition called the Shoring: sacrifice a goat each month to keep mysterious misfortunes at bay. Otherwise, accidents and deaths follow. Lovely place.
From the woodcutter, we heard about a strange box that “appears on its own.” And while walking through the woods, we found an owl perched on a branch. Olga tried communicating with it by yelling, “Hoo! HOO!” at the poor creature. It stared at her like it was reconsidering its entire existence. It was… beautiful comedy.
Finally, we went to the cave Worlis had mentioned. This time, we set the ambush. The redcaps never saw us coming. I took position behind a tree and put an arrow straight into the first one before it even realized we were there. The barbarian charged in with his usual enthusiasm, finishing the job while the rest of us closed in. Clean, efficient. Inside, we found two corpses and no answers. Olga collected some mushrooms that looked both deadly and curiously vibrant—very her.
Deeper into the woods we found the statue: an elf-like figure with an outstretched hand. The markings at its base matched runes we had seen along the forest’s edge. When we poured sulfur into the statue’s palm, the mountain opened as if exhaling a secret.
Inside the tunnels, we wandered until we reached a chamber housing a sarcophagus labeled “Mehen Amash.” Dramatic fellow.
We found a silver-glowing pin with a golden tip. It reacted to the stonework, unlocking a sealed chamber. Inside was a massive bastard sword. I didn’t touch it. I already had my dagger.