Through the haze of the reeking pits rises a black, evil-looking fortress. It squats over the gates of a city like a demonic claw bursting forth from the earth to clutch at the machines of war, but many more still dangling the skeletal remains of those whose ill-fated attempts to breach their heights failed gruesomely. The ground before the walls is a pock-marked waste of craters and pits, some still steaming with vile gases and strange miasmas. And rising above it all, like a cyclopean spike driven into the heart of the fortress, stands a tower of scarred stone and scabrous motif — a house of untold horrors and unguessed tragedies. Rising above the Fortress of Kirash Durgaut and the Black Gates of Tsar stands the Tower of Weeping Sores.