Main Gate of San Martino

The ancient stone arch of San Martino's principal city gates stretches across the primary road leading into the city's heart, its weathered limestone blocks worn smooth by centuries of cart wheels and foot traffic. Iron-reinforced double doors hang slightly askew, their once-gleaming hinges now pitted with rust where neglected maintenance has allowed moisture to seep between the metal and stone. Beyond the gates, the cobblestone approach is littered with stubs from hastily discarded torches, their wax melting into the gaps between stones, while the guard post to the right shows signs of recent struggle—the shutters bent inward where someone forced entry during the night. The air carries the acrid tang of charred wood mixed with the metallic bite of blood from the fallen guard, his turquoise-tinged corpse sprawled unnaturally against the damp stonework. Shouts from the city's interior echo off the high walls, carrying the dissonant mixture of panicked voices and clanging alarm bells, while the distant scent of burning pitch from the temple of Demnos drifts on the evening breeze.