This dagger was created by Nerull, The King of All Gloom. A necromancer named Raythorn had grown in his power and with it his arrogance. He wished to gain more power and began to gather to himself a cult to worship Nerull. They grew to number more than 30 and began kidnapping travelers from the nearby road to conduct terrible sacrifices to gain Nerull’s favor. When his cult had grown still larger he unfurled his master plan.
He had discovered a scroll with a ritual to turn the caster into a demi-god, all that was required was a deity to serve under and a large number to sacrifice. He summoned his cult to him and began the ritual. The spell took the souls of his members and at the climax of the ritual he plunged the sacrificial dagger into his own heart to release his now god-like spirit. He saw Nerull appear before him and Raythorn smilled. Nerull asked, “are you a god now?”
Raythorn said, “yes!”
Nerull asked, “and you swear to serve me?”
Raythorn answered, “yes my lord!”
Nerull laughed, “You are foolish, young necromancer. Such gifts one cannot bestow upon themselves. However, for your sacrifice I will grant you this boon. I will place your soul in your sacrificial dagger and give it to my foremost cleric. Your reward will be to serve me forever, little False God!”
The dagger since that time was passed between clerics of Nerull, until it was lost…
I had been walking for many days and had left behind a territory in turmoil and devastated by too many conflicts. The streets were full of refugees and despair was ingrained in every look I met. Disease, poverty and hunger seemed to be the only masters of the world,...
The Dark Elf had known Helyena for as long as he had known pain, she was the only
person he met, that had known more….
It was a lifetime ago, she knelt next to him in that mudpuddle some street thugs had
been beaten into.
The message arrived at dawn. No ordinary message; that just wasn’t Derek. Instead, as I leaned down to pick up a dropped knife in the kitchen, I suddenly heard his cool, clear voice cut the air.
In the icy northern summits, King Gareth’s realm did stand, and far below Mount Korva tunneled his dwarven clan…
