Prologue

  No one truly knows where the Dungeons came from, they were just always a part of the world. Whether it was The Great Ruins of the Clitholian Empire or The Barrow of the Nubonian Nation, they had simply been there, providing adventurers with a chance of both risk and reward. There was so little knowledge about the true nature of Dungeons, that when a young adventurer, after delving into the depths of The Nest, a low level Dungeon, found a small blue stone and he thought it not more than a mana stone. Mana stones allowed for far stronger enchantments to be placed upon the object they were set into. After completing his crawl, a term the adventurers used for a dive into the Dungeons, the young adventurer went to the nearby weaponsmith.

  “Smith, I would like a sword, with this mana stone set in it.” Declared the young man.

  “The gem is too small for a sword, my friend. I could make you a dagger, what metal do you want?”

  “This will be a gift, so the best I can receive for 5 Platinum.” It was all the coin the adventurer had, as the dagger was to an offering to the publican of his home village, whose daughter he wished to wed.

  “I can make you a blade of Elven silver, with a mithril edge for that price. Abyss, I could even set a few lesser gems in the guard. Are you sure that you want to spend so much on such a weapon?” The smith seemed to almost have a heart attack over such a large amount of coin.

  “I am sure, Smith. It will be the price for the hand of the girl I love, nothing is too much for her.” With the deal struck, the weaponsmith set about making the dagger. Being a high level smith and of Dwarven blood, he was able to make daggers easily enough, but this weapon was something else. First he forge an ingot of Elven silver into the shape of a blade, he then used a Skill to merge Dwarven mithril into the edge allowing for a sharper blade than any other metal he knew of. Having completed the blade, he then set about making the guard and hilt. For the guard he used some more Elven silver and set in a small sapphire into each side, for the grip he used a piece of wood, leftover from a staff he a made for a mage, wrapping the handle in leather to protect the high quality wood. Finally, he formed what appeared to be a small cage around the blue stone and affixed it as the pommel. Connecting the different pieces, and finally forming the dagger, caused several notifications to appear for the smith:

  The Dwarf stared in shock. ‘I created...an artefact?’ Artefacts were rare, powerful objects. Only the greatest of artisans, masters of their crafts, could create them, and even then many masters still never made such an achievement. This was the crowning jewel in the life’s work of the smith. For the faintest of moments, he considered keeping the dagger, but no, he was an honest man who had no need for the tool of death. Still, there was no harm in examining the objects stats:

  This weapon was beyond anything the smith had ever seen, a damage output of +1000 was unheard of except in legend and an unknown ability? No enchantment was ever labelled as Unknown, even if you didn’t have the Skills to read an objects stats, it just showed as illegible runes.

  When the adventurer returned, the Dwarf handed him the dagger with the awe it deserved. Amazed at the weapon, the young man paid the 5 Platinum happily and left for his home. He had been away for 5 years, earning the coin to start a family, and he was finally able to pay the bride price to the publican. After travelling weeks to arrive in his village the adventurer walked straight into the tavern.

  “Barkeep, I must speak with you.” The owner of the tavern grumbled but followed the adventurer into the back room.

  “What is it boy? I thought we were rid of you when you had left this town.”

  “I have brought you a gift, a bride price for your daughter’s hand.” The young man produced the dagger. Taking it, the barkeeper started to laugh at the boy.

  “You really think some shiny weapon makes you worthy of my daughter? Catherine is worth more than you could ever provide. I’ll keep this trinket as payment for wasting my time.” The publican spat the man before him. The adventurer lunged at the man, whose daughter he loved, had loved for years. The with tears of anger running down his he swung at the old barkeep. Caught by surprise, the tavern owner raise his hand to stop the boy, forgetting he was holding the dagger. The knife plunged deep into the chest of the adventurer, straight through his heart.

  Suddenly, the blue stone in the hilt blazed brightly, blinding the murderer holding the small blade. The small gem started to drawn mana from the surrounding area, draining the entire tavern of both magic and life. Having filled itself with all the power of the area, the dagger disintegrated into a fine silver dust, leaving a hole in the chest of the young man and the blazing jewel, floating and spinning in the air. Suddenly, the stone shot straight down, drilling a hole through the floor and deep into the sewers of the town.

  For the next decade, no one knew exactly what happened in the tavern, only that a young man and the local barkeeper had fought and that every life in the inn had been ended where they stood. The guests enjoying their ales, the rodents raiding the pantry, even the daughter of the publican, and her husband of 5 years, dead in their bed on the first floor, with their newborn baby laying between them.