[i]A thick gloom hung over Dôr-min-Taur, so palpable it clung to one’s clothes, tugging slightly at each and every action. Those keen of sense would taste the blackness on their tongues, feel the dark that lingered just beyond the capacity of mortal reckoning. And there, in the deep of the Mirkwood, shadows oozed out of the silent colony. That empty place where indulgence and avarice once reigned supreme, replaced by a fell and foulness so bleak that the forbidding atmosphere of the grim woods surrounding paled in comparison. 

-An excerpt from the journal of Callum Taul[/i]

The residents of Dôr-min-Taur, Lambin reflected, did not live so lavish existences such as some tales would imply. Each and every house that he came upon was simple in design, small in size, and solidly built. Squat little things that seemed more intent on hiding the wealth of their respective holders, rather than flaunting it. The interior of each house seemed to be a little less modest, but not by any significant mark. Finely carved but functional furniture was the norm by far, but evidence of their wealth could still be found: fine baubles and jewelry, smelted from gold and silver, set with rare gems, were commonplace, while satin and velvet could be found in the clothing and bedding of most homes. Lambin was sure to pocket the finest trinkets from each residency; the rest would have to be saved for when he and Callum did a proper sweep of the place with the wagon. 

The lack of people was a strange thing, but it made looting exceptionally simple, and the lack of bodies was even better. Lambin was rightly sick of the stench of corpse, and anything that smelled similar. Still, he wrinkled his nose at each crusted stain of blood, and carefully avoided stepping in anything that seemed too suspect. There were more than a few occasions where he had to avoid tripping on a piece of overturned furniture, dimly lit as the homes were. Yes, he was dressed for work rather than pleasure, but the leathers were still expensively made, and there was no sense in getting oneself filthy if it could be avoided. 

“Callum!” Lambin shouted with mock joy. “How welcome your dour expression is at a time like this, a true beacon of warmth in the oppressive locale we currently find ourselves in.” He sauntered a little closer to the man accompanying him. “I think we must laden ourselves with as much loot as we can carry, without straining the poor beasties too much.” As Lambin spoke, he edged closer to the two horses yoked to their wagon, stroking the mane of each one affectionately. “Slip, Grin, we’re going to make a fortune here, and I’ll trust you two to the heavy lifting.” 

“Something terrible has happened here.” Callum spoke flatly, mild in tone and with a hollow ring to his voice. Lambin watched the much taller fellow climb into the wagon and seize the reigns. “We should start at the front of the city - does this place count as a city? - and work our way to the rear. We can search the mine then.” 

As the pair made their way down the main road, horses clopping along towards the looming wall that grew bigger every other moment, Lambin peered forward from his seat. “Whore’s tit. We have visitors.”

Callum raised an eyebrow. “Make that one up yourself? We should greet them. We’re well within our rights to be here, and allies couldn’t hurt us.” A shadow fell across Callum’s face. “They may be useful. In the mine.”

“Let’s be on with it then, stay the course, and let me do the talking. You just… be you.”

[i]A great tragedy must have befallen Dôr-min-Taur. Though no bodies or survivors remained in the town to speak of, there were other signs. Near every home had its furniture in some manner of disarray, chairs and sometimes tables cast about.  Arrows were firmly embedded in posts and walls, missed shots by some panicked or unskilled marksman, that much is clear. The most obvious sign of crisis, however, was the blood. Blood, crimson and black, crusted and flaking in some spots, sticky like sludge in others, was no stranger to my gaze. It seemed everywhere I looked, there was some of the foul residue. Something very, very terrible happened to the people of Dôr-min-Taur.

-An excerpt from the journal of Callum Taul[/i]