A dark mountain looms against the darker sky. It seems made of wisps of shadow and faint traces of evil fancy¸ like it does not quite exist. Rather like a nightmare.
The terrain around the mountain is no better¸ all grown with rocky peaks and crags like a skin disease. It is completely devoid of colour too¸ as if on purpose; a sickly rash for a sickly landscape.
It rains of course. The rain¸ however¸ is not like water; instead it looks like cold white drips of ash. White ash falling on black soil; all of it is black and white.
Ghostly forms cling to the rocks and crevices¸ their appearance almost human¸ their vaporous mouths congealed in what appear to be screams but may also be dreadful celebration.
This¸ then¸ is Mount Moru. It has a world around it¸ made of legend and dread; it has a maze inside¸ inhabited by dragons and monsters.