Rekham is the fourth hero you gain under your control.
Background[]
“Drink and be merry for tomorrow we die.”
Beyond human borders, at the base of the western mountains, they say the last dwarven clans of Artara have united. Master craftsman and ceaseless workers, toiling away deep beneath the ground.
Keepers of clockwork and machine-craft secrets, they search tirelessly for a means to undo the damage cast upon (and below) the land. Engineers of some of the most impressive machines the world has ever known. Including the fabled giant spinning drills capable of shaking the very foundation of the planet, giving rise to great earthquakes, like the one responsible for uncovering the tower.
Wearing piecemeal armor and a wide toothy smile, it’s hard to imagine such an easy going character as Rakhem, as a “living legend”. He belly laughs at the idea. But the men in his delegation serve him with a reverence I sense is indeed genuine. I hope in future days to see a blade forged by his own hands, by a Smith of the First Order as he claims.
In his opening salutation, Rakhem pledged his trusted hammer and his innate familiarity of fire to my cause. Throwing his legs up on a crystal of the throne and making himself at home, the runelord spoke at length about uncovering forgotten knowledge of the ancient blacksmiths and machines of a long-lost era.
I have never met a more forthcoming individual, expressing his personal desires to me in such a short span of time, as if we were brothers long separated. Heartfelt aspirations, like his life-long dream to locate a cache of adamantine, a wondrous ore that most (including myself) believe only exists in myth.
There is no doubt his loud, boisterous manner will comfort and calm those around him, even in the most dire situations. One of his stewards boasts Rakhem stands as immovable as a mountain next to his companions in battle, ready to defend against any force, no matter how superior. That the Smith of the First Order brings to bear, a strength ten times that of his small stature. Though dwarves are renowned for their boasts, this would not surprise me in the least.
Yet, behind his deep-set eyes, buried beneath locks of auburn hair, lies an inescapable somberness. Some well-masked sense of urgency. I need but only gaze a short time before the dwarf looks to his clockwork pocket watch… with almost mechanical repetition. I can’t help but wonder, why?