Hearth, eh? Never been a name less suited to the owner. A hearth is warm, welcoming, and comforting, a place a man can rest by after a hard day out on the fields and enjoy a quiet drink. Don’t expect anything like that from the crook-backed old crone. She’s a real bitch, and always has been. Vindictive, spiteful, and cantankerous? All that and more. But there’s far more to her than harsh words. The old crone is not one you should cross, in this lifetime or next. She has a mind sharp enough to rival that of the old Ferryman.

Hearth is at least like her namesake in one sense of the word - she’s the heart of her Guild, another old hand like Anvil. They’re as different as night and day though. Anvil, strong, proud, and patient, respected by all. Hearth? Oh, I’m sure she has the good of her Guild in mind, but her position has been achieved through scheming, manipulation, and guile. Her rivals fear her, for the word of the Bitter Matriarch can be the end of your advancement at best, or death from the shadows at worst. Even a master learns to treat her with caution, and treads carefully enough not to earn her ire.

A familiar figure to the denizens of the undercity and the scum hanging around the black markets, I hear she can’t work the iron anymore, down to how frail she’s become in her advanced age. I can believe that to see her hobble about, but if you ask me, there’s more than a hint of pantomime in how she uses her weapon like a stick. Never let it stop you from putting the boot in if you get the chance, gods know she deserves it.

She might be old, but there’s plenty of life in her yet, more’s the pity. The day can’t come quick enough when she slips from her perch. I doubt the world will miss her, either.

- Tapper, Brewer’s Guild Team Captain