Deep below a smoke-wreathed volcano dwells a black-hearted clan of duergar. From the vastness of the lightless halls of their Obsidian Citadel, they forge malevolent armour, weapons and items for any with the gold and bravery to deal with them. Such is their boundless greed and hatred of the surface dwellers, though, that the fruit of their labours often hold lurking, pernicious curses that strike down their wielder months or even years later.
So dour and obsessed with perfecting their craft are they, that the arts of beauty – music, poetry, painting and so on – are lost to them. Yet beauty they still crave. Thus they ride forth from their noxious smoke-wreathing mountain home atop wondrous silver steeds in search of fair maidens and talented artists to drag down to wilt away forever in the darkness deep below the earth.