Ever walk into a bar, looking to knock back a pint, but when ya go in, everyone’s just looking to knock back ye? That’s a duergar’s life right there. None of this social contract business or whatever the fuck let’s a hard working man have a drink in peace after long day. No sorry, to drink here you must be at least two drunk bastards thrown through a table. And maybe a periodic reminder, ’case anyone forgets yeah?
OK so here’s what you thinking: duergar bars are rowdy places, wow, I never knew that. Well, first, shutup; second, what I’s sayin’ is called a “metaphor” you idiots. That bar I talked about, that’s the duergar’s whole life. Even a family gathering’s just another crowd eyeballing ya, seeing if they can tear ya down.
S’like after all those centuries of being thralls of the Mind Flayers, in the head they all still prisoners. You survive by being too badass to fuck with, and you still don’t trust no one ‘cuz maybe they a snitch or maybe they stealin’ your food when you’s not lookin’. Only thing tougher than being a duergar is putting up with them, but sometimes you gotta else how you gonna get them through that table eh? EH?