“Close the city and tell the people that something’s coming to call . . .”
Thus spake The Interloper many centuries ago, echoes from in the last days of a city who had been constantly occupied for thousands of years. The clandestine figure, whose grave warnings were neither desired nor required, looked to the people to band together and make a stand. But the multitude that gathered had suffered the ranting of fools and their spirit had died. They had nothing to say. They all turned away. . .
Now the ruins of Caer Glwthyrn sprawls across these goat tended & shorn hillsides. On occasion, a passing encampment seeks shelter amongst the destroyed keep, never staying too long or straying too far from the ancient road.