The Gates Below

The gates of death sit under Irrum Vath, far beneath the surface in the heart of the twisting passage of earth. Such a thing is common knowledge.
One can find them in a cavern, so huge it dwarfs even the great halls of the nameless ruined city the lies closer to the surface. At the center of this space is a pillar of stone some fifty meters across in all directions. It reaches from ground to vaulted ceiling.
Here stand the doors, carved into rock. Some fifteen meters across, and forty high.
An entire community exists around them, a sort coven of loosely affiliated worshipers who have deemed this particular aspect of the cosmos as being worth venerating. They count all the races of Irrum Vath among their numbers, and a few others besides.
Some who come to see them swear the doors themselves are not real doors at all, but rather symbols of a higher unknowable force. They cast it as mere art, rendered by ancient residents who sought to worship in the same manner as those who gather around the doors in modern times do.
The truth is they are entirely real and functional doors. There is no secret mechanism or ancient incantation needed to open them. In fact, if one is on good terms with the doors they may simply ask and they will open. But they are stubborn and irritable as far as doors go, so it lucky that merely pushing hard enough also sufficient. The honest truth is that most mortals cannot open them because they are too heavy to push. No force beyond this exists to deter entry into the gates, and none have ever returned from passing though them save for Death himself.
Regardless, it has been a number of years since the doors have been opened 'properly'. Death cares little for the laws of space and time, preferring to leave such things to his siblings. He usually picks the spaces betwixt the perceivable intervals of reality to ferry souls through, handily processing his eternal backlog without having to wake the neighbors. After all, the doors are loud and rumbling things when opened. Death considers this way more polite, having always fancied himself a good neighbor to the people of Irrum Vath.

Type

Cave