As you journey deeper into the mountain... weaving through the labyrinthian paths, a heat continues to hum against your skin. Sweat drips down your face as you cross the threshold into the majesty of the Dwarven Forge. The robust smell of burning embers, cool metal, and a lingering air of ale & whiskey. This fragrance smells like smoke and long hours in front of the forge. It’s the metallic clang of the hammer on the anvil. It’s the whiskey that the blacksmith definitely didn’t drink right before his shift. It’s a little aggressive but also very warm and comforting.