The twilight mountains sat on the border of Alerar and marked the kingdoms of the dwarves. Few kingdoms were as infamous as that of the Deep Kings. Their mines were far from their kin, dug deep into the foundations of the mountains and grown prosperous by the precious stones and metals found there. No one quite knows when the Deep Kingdom was destroyed but estimates put it within the last two years. That was the last time the reclusive kingdom had contact with the outside world. Since then their halls have been silent and the flow of trade with the surface stopped.

Among the treasures of the Deep Kingdom was the mysterious crystal swords. There were five of note, the Dragon, the Rat, the Goat, the Monkey and the Ox. Whispers speak for seven more, bringing the total to twelve. With the destruction of the Deep Kingdom what happened to these swords of legend? They seemed to be lost at first; stolen by those that were responsible for the destruction of the Deep Kingdom or perhaps the looters that followed. Time showed that it held no secrets, and the swords started to emerge. The Deep Kings had feared the power of the swords; of the omens that came with their use. They sought to hide away what they didn’t understand and with that choice they thrust the responsibility onto others and were dissolved under the wave of horror that washed over them.

Now the swords were split, but a power was bringing them together. None who held the swords understood their power or their purpose. They would soon find out.


The darkness was broken by a soft blue glow. It stretched out from above, arching from gemstone to gemstone across the cavern’s roof. The word roof didn’t do the stone structure justice by any means. The crystalline sky stretched out like a million tiny stars. It was softer than the sun, allowing any to gaze upon its brilliance. As the sun warmed the skin the glowing crystals of the cavern warmed the mind.

The light emanating from the roof of the cavern was mirrored in the vast pool in the centre. The water was perfectly still and with it was the perfection of the reflection. The cavern was immense in its size and ringed by passages that arched off its oval shape. The gradient of the floor was slight around the edges, but within the dark waters it became more severe until it fell off into a dark abyss.

The crystals did not light up by some random chance. They lit up in response to magic, to a call of magic from their kin. A glowing yellow light appeared next to the water. It lasted only a second before it flashed out of existence and left a man standing in its place. The man was a knight, holding the yellow crystal sword, that of the Dog. Upon the man’s chest was blazoned the golden insignia of the Knights of the Dawn. The knight turned around, his blue eyes peering from out the eye slits of his visored helmet. He instinctively pulled his shield off his back and raised his sword.

“-two hundred gold, no more no-“ the words were cut off as an old man appeared out a blue glow holding the Pig blade. His hands were raised as if offering the sword to someone.

“What is going on?!” shouted the man, letting the sword fall from his hands and strike the ground. The crash echoed through the previously silent chamber with a resonating clang.

“Quiet you fool!” Snapped the Knight, “We are in an unholy place. Raise your sword and prepare to fight!”

The old man was small, hunched with age and a life of sitting at a shop stall. A pair of small glasses were resting at the end of his nose. The shop keeper raised two hands to his bald head and pressed against the few white wisps of hair above his ears.

The knight turned away from the man with a sneer. He wished for more competent fighters if he was going to survive whatever horrors the cavern offered. As if responding to his plea half a dozen balls of glowing energy burst into life around him.