Dushlan Hill.
I expected many things after I've heard so much of it's illustrious reputation, this hallowed land that stood as the focal point of round a dozen or so legends and myths, the anchor of an age of folklore, passed down through centuries or even millennia of embellishment and half-truths, that now stood as the bedrock to an entire civilization's culture.
And yet none of my grand expectations seemed to quite manifest themselves in the sight before me when I finally beheld it. Not it's appearance that lacked all the pomp and presentation of such a supposedly significant and respected cultural sight, not it's air that was forlorn of all glory and instead seemed to permeate the surroundings with a sullen sense of abandonment, and certainly not it's immediate vicinity, which were a littered patchwork of long since discarded buildings, like remanent islands of it's old splendour and a couple of derelict graveyards, stranded to the mercy of nature's reclaiming grip.
