The approach to the mountain is rugged, the path winding through sharp cliffs and dense underbrush. As you crest a rise, you spot the entrance to the cave—a small, jagged opening set into the mountain’s face. At first glance, it seems unremarkable, almost natural, as though carved by the winds and rains over centuries. But as you draw closer, the craftsmanship becomes clear.

The stone surrounding the entrance has been deliberately shaped, its rough-hewn edges smoothed by dwarven hands. Intricate patterns are faintly visible around the arch—worn, angular carvings of mountain peaks, crossed hammers, and flowing rivers. Though weathered by time, these marks speak of a proud legacy, hinting at the dwarves who once called this place their own.

Above the entrance, the remnants of an ancient inscription can be seen. The words are in Dwarvish, but much of the text has crumbled away.