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Dorivr was a good, young man. He obeyed the laws of the Shadow Master, he created the weapons for the Shadow Army, like a Black Smith was supposed to. Dorivr knew the Shadow Master didn't know who he was and had no clue of his patronage, but, Dorivr still felt he was famous. He almost liked the Shadow Master, until the day that the Shadow over did it...

Dorivr's father was trying to keep his family filled with food, so he worked as much as he could, hunted whenever he had the time and took special pilgrimages to treasure caves. Usually, Dorivr's father brought back the minimal amount, but, he at least brought something. That day, his father had gone to the Baron's section of the Dark City. The City was farther away than walking distance, but, Dorivr's father still went. The Barons usually paid him small amounts of copper, for jobs worth a lot more. His father accepted anything, knowing that they would slaughter him if he insulted them. Dorivr hammered harder today, wishing to get more weapons completed. The dark metal known as Shard was extremely durable, and hard to mold into blades and armour. Dorivr had learned the one secret to Shard; brightness. The Shard always worked for him, as long as he kept it in view of light. The Shadow army found this weakness to be of no importance, for they always fought in the shadow of their Master. Today, they fought an old man, to the death, for the sheer joy of it. That man was a pathetic peasant, wandering the cold, stone streets of the Baron's Property. That man was Dorivr's father...