The dwarven stronghold of the Amberhammers is built into the side of a mountain. It has a terraced garden on its northwest side next to broad stone steps that lead down to a town that is still being rebuilt in the aftermath of successive waves of aggressors. The place has seen battles and welcomed people home. It has endured an unnatural winter, and discovered that it had been stolen by the wild winter fey in the process. And yet now Spring is returning. Flowers are budding and spreading. The trees have blossom and new growth. Snow has retreated to the higher peaks and valleys.
Spring has brought changes. The threat of starvation has eased – especially now that contact with the outside world has been restored – and a renewed focus has been made on making the valley and stronghold as self-reliant as possible. There are tensions between the original Hold and the New Hold in what used to be called Flower Town – but there is good will and best intentions at the heart of them. Dwarves are nothing if not pragmatic in this part of the world.
One of those changes, though, has baffled the inhabitants of the Hold. The strange beast known as Rakken – a spindly, twisted creature with a single burning eye – is no more. It was last seen in the company of the fire witch and the dragonborn sister. Together with the half-ogre Kher, they had gone to the old marshes near the northwest pass. That was the last that had been seen of Rakken.
Instead, the women had returned with a third woman called Talia, who seemed to be recovering from injuries to both body and mind. She wore clothing embroidered with old-fashioned versions of the marks of House Cannith, and kept a rolled cloth of tools with her that suggested she was an artificer – but no one knew who she was. The fire witch said this was who Rakken had been – that “Rakken” was a curse that had now been broken. The dwarves nodded sagely, and made a spare room available. They did, however, post a few extra guards around.
The truth would out
