So I got bored and decided to write a story about a Pentaract, and possible a dungeon dropping from it 
Happy reading!
The Pentaract. Killer of heroes. Nobody knew where it came from, or what it was. But there were predicts, conspiracies that could make your blood run cold. Nobody returns from the Pentaract. Nobody escapes it’s piercing eyes. Some say it is all the Mad God’s vision, some say it is Satan’s. But many say it is the father of God. Most suspect it came from another dimension, a hellhole of fury. Little did they know. I was always fascinated by the Pentaract. And it was fascinated by me. I had many visions, but they weren’t mine. They were the Pentaract’s, always awakening in a cold sweat, my head bouncing with curiosity.
So I went after the Pentaract, I entered the realm, with my dagger and cloak to aid me, I went in search of the Pentaract. I walked for nine days and nine nights, fought gods and slayed monsters. I even killed a Grand Sphinx.
I was cooking some rabbit for my dinner when I saw it. Opaque and without an edge, pale as a parchment but slimy as a frog. A single pupil glistening with the light of my fire. The eye. It shot blades at me with a single stare that made my head burn with a fury not known to man. I was dazed for a second when it disappeared into the woods. This must be it. I had found the Pentaract.
Cloaked in my red cape, I followed the eye. And saw it. The Pentaract, five jet black and scaly towers, without a face but full of essence. Warty red welts and red dust filled the air, along with a putrid smell which wished flames into my nostrils.
Father of god, vision of oryx, sin of the night. Killer of heroes. Visions. Dreams.
Nightmares.
Killer of heroes.
Visions.
It was a trap. The Pentaract has me in its game for years now. Toying with me, tricking me, I was nothing but a pawn in the grand scheme of Oryx. In my anger I sliced the nearest eye in two. Blue blood sprayed everywhere and burned into my flesh as hot as magma. The remnants flickered, and I saw my father torn straight in half, his eyes filled with shock.
The wave of realisation flooded me out of reason. I had just murdered my father. His entrails littered the floor as I watched him die in a pool of his own blood. I scanned my surroundings. I was home in my village, my father dead before me. The Pentaract was gone. But still there. It was in me the entire time, I had travelled a loop and killed my father.
The tears washed out of me as I waterfalled into the dry earth below me, I pounded on the ground screaming, my head clear of reason. Not only depression, but also rage filled me. Infuriated at what the Mad God had done. Before I could turn the knife upon myself, I heard a scream from behind me.
Then my head nearly split with a cracking sensation. I looked down at my hands, caked with blood. The world started spinning until I toppled over and everything went black.
I am Suandour of Blight, servant of Oryx. Killer of men. But most refer to me as The Pentaract.
