The hill dwarves had just finished building the metal pipes they needed for their ventalation systems around the mountain; which they could use to send different gases to different places around the complex and surrounding lands.
Dunny Migardy was sharpening a newly forged axe, dusting it off and then dipping the head in a pool of black metal dye. The special dye sunk into the metal, giving it several, nice, thick layers of a coal coating if left in for about twenty-four hours; the manditory for a finished Night Axe. He wiped his sooty brow with his thick cloth glove, walking over to the nearest open bar(for there were quite a lot of them around) and grabbed an ale, downing it quickly and grabbing another; doing likewise. "Migardy! Ye got ordars fora' pre-magic staff. Grab a block o' Black Mithral Stretch Metal and get ta werk!" The Forge Leader yelled to him, his face black as the UnderDark's nights against his aparently shining white eyes, or so it seemed to be what they were doing. "Aye..." he murmured, downing another ale.