“Never dig in the hills of your enemies. Steal their coin instead. Let them do the digging.” – Ancient Dwarven proverb
You’ve never been on a worse-luck dig. The clay won’t take, the rock comes off in sharp slinters that fly into your eyes and beard, and it smells like somebody died down here. In fact, Alrick and Barin did die down here digging that first shaft – and don’t give me that shit about health and safety, none of you ever wore harnesses running down the vein before. You do now though – and they still haven’t found Barin’s body. The elves you caught running through the forest tell us they used to bury their worst criminals here in these hills – but you haven’t found any bones yet – or none that look like they might’ve had pointy ears, at least.