Pip, his team, and their large, unexpected entourage step out of the forest into the clearing, and every single one of them stops dead in their tracks the moment they finally see what's been waiting to meet them.
A massive tent dominates the center of the open field, flanked by a dozen smaller ones and a menagerie of machines and equipment humming and hissing in the afternoon light, somewhere beneath it all the steady clang of a hammer against an anvil keeping time like a heartbeat.
Dwarves, and other races of every size, hurry between the tents with real, purposeful urgency, hauling barrels, stacking boxes, and shouting instructions across a camp that looks less like a diplomatic outpost and more like a small, opulent city that sprouted overnight, complete with lanterns, banners, and the unmistakable smell of multiple delicious foods roasting somewhere within.
