Rainoga

Dusthawk Hill rises from the southwestern edge of Baldur’s Gate’s Outer City, a weather-beaten bluff overlooking the Chionthar’s tidal reach. Long known as a nesting ground for the elusive dusthawk—a raptor once seen wheeling in flocks over the river—the hill now hosts only a few solitary pairs, protected by obscure city edicts and watched by keen-eyed birders and wary locals alike. Beneath its windswept slopes, hidden sea caves yawn open at low tide, whispered to harbor far more sinister tenants. Dockside whispers speak of smugglers and worse—shapeshifters in wolf’s hide, blending among beasts and men to sow chaos when Baldur’s Gate grows weak. Whether truth or tavern tale, Dusthawk Hill remains a place of quiet dread and feral grace.

The hill itself is a stark promontory, its sides slashed with veins of dark limestone and tufts of sea-grass waving like thinning hair. Gnarled trees clutch the upper slopes, leaning inland as if recoiling from the salt winds. The cries of the rare dusthawk echo overhead, sharp and fleeting, while fog curls around the lower cliffs where treacherous paths lead to half-submerged cave mouths. Mossy stones and guano-splashed ledges mark abandoned nests along the crag face. At dusk, the hill glows amber, but shadows soon swallow its base, cloaking the sea caves in darkness thick as pitch. The air is heavy with brine, gull-feather, and the faint metallic tang of old blood—quiet warnings carried on the wind.