The air was filled with the distinct scent of sulfur from the forge, mingling with the metallic aroma of iron shavings, creating a unique and invigorating atmosphere.
The only passage connecting the entire dwarven city to the outside world was a bridge made of massive black stone, spanning across the Molten River.
On the bridge, caravans came and went, favoring the exquisite craftsmanship of the Black Iron Dwarves, coming to purchase various equipment, taking these fine products from the underground to every corner of the world.
However, the peaceful days did not last long.
Just recently, an ominous aura quietly began to spread in the Underground City.
The once bustling Black Stone Bridge, crowded with caravans, was now eerily silent, replaced by desolation, with broken bridge ropes swaying in the heat waves from the magma, silently narrating some unknown incident.
