Deep beneath the land’s surface, the fabled dwelling of the mountain dwarves stands resolute within the cloak of eternal darkness. Here there is no light at all and the native people are no poorer for it—any light to be found is from the forges, eternally lit, of the community. Night and day, the sound of smiths hammering out impurities in the metals mined by their fellows rings out; for indeed, in this place, there are no nights or days. On every corner, stoic dwarf sentinels stand guard, ready to mobilize in an instant against the numerous and varied threats that regularly emerge from within the depths of these lightless caverns. The smell of baking dwarf stonebread mixes perfectly with the metallic tang of the exhaust from the forges’ bellows.