Welcome to the True Heart of the Mountain!
You asked for the best ale in Hammerdeep. They told you to find The Pickled Norker. Forget the grand halls and the polished stone of the upper city—this is where the mountain's true spirit lives, and it smells strongly of coal smoke and questionable decisions.
The entrance is an unassuming, low-slung door tucked away in a narrow, branching tunnel of the Lower Warrens. The moment you step across the threshold, a wall of stale ale, pipe tobacco, and roasting norker meat hits you, thick and warm. The flickering light from sputtering oil lamps and the greasy tallow candles coats the rough-hewn wooden tables and stone walls in a perpetual, grimy twilight. It's loud, crowded, and perfectly unapologetic—the ideal environment for a dwarf to drown his troubles, or sell a secret.
This isn't a museum; it's a working bar. The patrons are a rough assembly: off-duty miners with black soot etched into their hands, prospectors with the wild-eyed look of gold fever, and shadowy figures in cloaks who seem to melt into the stone. Leave your polished manners and your Vanguard airs at the door.
Meet the Bartender: Grundel Smelterfoot
Behind a scarred, sticky length of ironwood that serves as the bar, stands the man himself: Grundel Smelterfoot.
He is stout and broad, with the powerful build of a dwarf who has spent his life working metal and hauling barrels. His apron is stained with a thousand unnamed liquids, and his massive arms, scarred from years near the smelters, are perpetually crossed. His expression is one of unwavering, professional suspicion.
As he wipes down a tankard with a rag that looks suspiciously less clean than the mug, his eyes—deep set and the color of cold granite—fix on you. He doesn't offer a cheery welcome; he offers a challenge.
The barkeep's gaze misses nothing. He may be surrounded by the lowest rungs of dwarven society, but Grundel Smelterfoot is the unofficial curator of every secret, every rumor, and every whispered piece of dissent that flows through the Lower Warrens. He’s the reason people come here, and he’s the reason they never stay too long.
Pro Tip: If you want information, ask for a Deepdamp Brew and offer a silver coin. If you want trouble, mention Vargash Stoneson or try to shortchange him. You won't live long enough to regret it.
"You look like you wandered in from a bard’s tale. We don’t serve songs here. We serve ale. What’ll it be, and keep your business quiet. This ain't a confessional."
