Lastadur

Deserted and forgotten, the square reeked of abandonment. Its lanterns were old, their cages rusted, their light fading. Ladders and scaffolds lay shattered. Dust covered everything. Little streams of dirty water flowed along the sides of the roads, collecting their trickles from the cracks above. The doors of the shops hung loosely on hinges or had fallen off altogether.

A ghost town.

Anya felt an infinite sadness about the place. As if the funeral songs of old still lingered in the air somehow, deep dwarven voices forever echoing off the crumbling walls.