Into that Darkness Peering: A Tale of the Lonely Coast
The Twisted Gorge runs for almost a mile, cutting through a range of steep, heavily wooded hills north of Wolverton. Like a great, festering wound, the Twisted Gorge draws creatures of evil to it as a corpse calls to a starving wolf.
The gorge is narrow and steep‐sided. The ground is choked with rocks, boulders and trees fallen to ruin from the surrounding cliffs. Bleached bones, rotting corpses and rusted and moldering equipment – legacy of the many battles fought here – lie intermixed among the tumbled mass of stones and boulders in mute testimony to the violence wrought in this place. An aura of bleak desolation hangs over the place like a foreboding cloud.
At the head of the gorge, a nameless waterfall tumbles over the cliffs into the frigid waters of Dark Mere, a foreboding, ill-favored lake of unknown depth that births the swiftly flowing Arisum River. Above the lake – carved into the cliff’s living rock – a rambling ruin of (presumably abandoned) precariously perched buildings and pathways flank the waterfall. Access to the ruins is via a steep, slippery flight of foot- and handholds carved into the cliff face.