The Hollow Gate
This dungeon is not well known around the land. There have been few that have ever emerged from it and those few are not of the land. It seems that whenever this realm has been at its lowest point, a band emerges. They don’t know it at the time but they are destined to change the course of history of the land.
The following is a tale that a bard would tell from tales he learned from the last heroes to have emerged over 100 years ago.
As the party stepped away from the darkness, the first thing they felt was the wind.
Cold air sweeps through the narrow mountain valley, carrying with it the smell of wet stone, ancient earth, and distant rain. Behind them, carved into the sheer face of the mountainside, stands the entrance from which we emerged. It is far more than a simple cave.
Weathered pillars frame the opening, their surfaces covered in worn carvings and unfamiliar symbols. Stone faces stare outward from beneath tangled roots and creeping vines, their expressions solemn and unreadable. Time has broken much of the structure, but enough remains to suggest that this place was once built with great purpose. The darkness beyond the doorway seems almost solid, swallowing the faint light that reaches inside. Somewhere deep within, the mechanisms of the trial have fallen silent once more.
There is no road leading to the entrance.
No worn path marks the passage of pilgrims or treasure hunters. No campfires burn nearby. No offerings have been left upon the steps. The surrounding wilderness has nearly reclaimed the entire site, burying fallen stones beneath moss, vines, and twisted roots. It is as though the land itself has worked to hide the place from the world.
Few people in this realm know that the dungeon exists.
Fewer still believe the old stories.
According to scattered legends, the ancient doorway has remained sealed for generations at a time. Explorers have searched these mountains and found nothing. Armies have marched through the valleys below without ever seeing it. Maps either ignore the region entirely or mark it only as an empty stretch of dangerous wilderness.
Yet on rare occasions, people have emerged from the darkness.
They do not come seeking treasure. They do not arrive with maps or knowledge of the land. They speak with unfamiliar accents, carry symbols belonging to distant or unknown places, and know nothing of the kingdoms, wars, or rulers surrounding them. They appear confused, exhausted, and often wounded by whatever trials lie beyond the entrance.
The few records that mention these strangers share one disturbing detail.
They always appear when the realm is nearing ruin.
When kingdoms fracture, when ancient evils stir, when hope begins to disappear, the hidden passage opens and another band emerges. At first, they seem insignificant—lost travelers standing before a forgotten doorway in an unforgiving wilderness. They do not know the names of the great powers moving against them. They do not understand the old prophecies or the conflicts that have shaped the land.
They certainly do not know why they were chosen.
But history remembers those who came before.
Some became heroes. Others became rulers, martyrs, conquerors, or legends whose names are still spoken centuries later. Each group changed the course of the realm, though not always in the way people expected. Some saved kingdoms. Some destroyed them. Some defeated terrible enemies, only to become something equally feared.
For now, however, there is only the ruined entrance, the dark wilderness, and an uncertain path leading away from the mountain.