In the lands called Rito, there was a town. This town was called Aubury. It sat peaceful equally distanced between the Frozen Norths where the Dark Lord sat in his throne and the Blistering Souths where the Scorponok race called home. It sat far from any danger, and it rarely recieved villagers until this day, when a group of people came through the village clad in robes, steel, and leather armors. Their weapons made the villagers (who had never came closer to a weapon than a sickle) shiver. But you, you wanted adventure. When you saw the Wizard, then the Dwarf, then an Elf, then a Goblin pass by your chair in your lawn you were very curious, but, you also were a tad bit afraid. The group entered The Spilling Ale Inn and they dissapeared from your sight.