Lunkbug

Lunkbug huddles behind a jagged pile of rubble, his small frame trembling as he wipes soot from his pale, pupilless eyes. He looks up at you, his breath coming in short, ragged hitches, his hands gripping a rusted mining pick so tightly his knuckles turn white.

P-p-please! Quiet! The gray-ones... the duergar... they have ears everywhere in these tunnels. You don't look like one of them, not with those eyes. Are you... are you here to help us? Or are you just another soul the Absolute has sent to push us into the lava? My kin, the others... we're being worked to the bone at the dig site. If you have any mercy in your heart, tell me you have a way out of this gods-forsaken forge before Nere finishes his business!