The river broadens at the foot of a towering mountain cliff that climbs more than a thousand feet into the endless night. A seventy-foot gorge splits the stone, and the water pours through — but the way upriver is barred by a fortified water gate, twin doors of rusting iron flanked by looming thirty-foot barbicans.

Though raised only recently by Hepzamirah's magic, the gatehouse is already half-swallowed by the ravenous jungle, and the cultists posted here wage a ceaseless war against creeping vines and prowling predators. This is the last barrier before the Nahyndrian mine — held by demoniacs of Baphomet, madmen who have traded their sanity for scraps of Abyssal power, with a pair of hezrous lurking in the depths below.

This is a threshold to be forced. Whether by open assault or by cunning disguise, the gate must be broken or opened for you to press deeper into the mountain's poisoned heart. Beyond it lies the source of the cult's dark harvest — and the reckoning you have crossed the Abyss to deliver.