The Wayside is all I've ever known. For some, it appears as a tavern with many rooms and a grand feast hall. Others see it as a trainstation. Or even a large campsite with many tents and large, warm, inviting bonfire. It changes to fit the needs of each and every adventurer, traveller, or otherwise lost soul. I was born here, or created, I'm not really sure.

Thankfully, I can shapeshift into whatever kind of person I want to, unlike the Wayside itself. I'm pretty sure the Wayside is sentient, as it always knows what someone needs. Most of our visitors never return. But there's one group of heroes who come every few weeks, and we become a place of respite as they plan their next adventure.

To them, I appear as a child, and an old innkeep as well. They're friendly to both, but they've taught me many things as the child. For example, their wizard has taught me some spells, their bard has taught me how to make simple wooden wind instruments and how to play them. Their rogue has even taught me how to pick locks and pockets, and even how to fight with and throw knives and daggers.

I've never even imagined of leaving the Wayside. Would my powers even still work? Would I be able to exisit in a set place with a set time? These are some of the questions that swirl in my mind as I look out the door at the spiraling portal that connects the Wayside to the Physical Plane.

But I don't have much of a choice to go through. Something is wrong with the Wayside, something dark and terrible has happened. It's as if the Wayside is sick or something. Where once it was well lit and cheerful, it is now dark and gloomy. And it all began with a visitor who had been wearing dark clothes and a hood that covered their face who had been here shortly after the heroes had left.

The Wayside's key felt heavier in my pocket, as if it knew my intent to leave, but it also felt like it was connected to a cord that was tugging it towards the portal. With a deep breath, I jumped in, hearing the door of the Wayside slam shut and the lock slide into place. And then several voices swirled around me.

"Thanks for inviting me you guys, I've always wanted to play D&D."

"Of course, man, we're always welcoming to new players. Do you already have a character rolled up?"

"Yeah. I'll be playing a young changeling warlock, the only permanent resident of a magical realm for lost travellers, which grants them their power as the realm itself is sentient."

"Sounds dope asf. I can't wait to see what you do with them."