The Black Gate of Taltoth stands like a mountain of rough obsidian, its jagged sides rising up like demonic spires. Its center, however, is perfectly polished, a sort of massive mirror in the general shape of a door reflecting back the dark shadows of reality. Many stories persist as to its origins, most commonly revolving around a giant or two. But the term, The Black Gate, has no connection to those fairy tales which treat it primarily as a mirror. The common name appears to have no connection with anything but one obscure, somewhat confused, legend. It says that The Black Gate is a door to a world of shadow, an intrusion into reality by the darkness of all forgotten dreams. It was certainly true for me, that as the legend warns, those who sleep near it will suffer nightmares.
Taltoth itself is a cold place whose clouded skies are often grey, and the luscious land around The Black Gate is an uninhabited wilderness. There is a chill, an uneasiness, which infects the air. Save for the buzzing of insects, there was hardly any life at all.
There is one more part of the legend which the people at least believe. We were not allowed any meat on our journey, and I am told that the old or feeble are not permitted to go near The Black Gate. Anyone not in the prime of health is kept away. It is said that the shadows—those ghostly reflections within the dark obsidian—will creep out from the stone and infect the bodies of anything which has died. One grey bearded man told me that when he was a child a shadowed dog haunted his village, killing much livestock. Huntsmen would send their shafts into it, but it would not die. Indeed, it would be spied the next night with the fletches of the arrow still stuck in it. When they caught it, they cut off its head. Still, the body struggled and the head snapped at those who held it. They had to burn it to ash before it would die.
Staring at the strange silhouette which stands opposite me as I write this, I cannot help but to believe these strange tales.
Tale Told 