Okay, let me set the scene. It was a standard exploration into the Underdark (y’know, where everything is a dangerous, dimly lit nightmare), and I was feeling cocky. I’d read all the guides, braved goblins, and even danced with a mind flayer or two without losing my head. But then, I encountered the Duergar. You know the gray dwarves everyone talks about, the ones with a reputation for being all “tough love” and “never let anyone get too close.” Yeah. I thought I could break through that cold exterior. Spoiler: I was wrong.
Entering Duergar Territory: “Are We Friends Yet?”
Let me be straight with you: I had no business trying to befriend them. I don’t even know what possessed me. Probably the combination of too much caffeine and a misguided belief that my charm could melt the icy, stone-hearted demeanor of a Duergar. Honestly, if I’d just gone to one more tavern and had a couple of mugs of ale before meeting them, maybe I would’ve realized that this wasn’t some “let’s break bread together” moment.
But instead, there I was, stepping into the bleak, cold stone corridors of Duergar territory like an overeager puppy. “I can totally make them see the light,” I thought. “They just need a little warm greeting, maybe some snacks. I’m basically a diplomatic genius.” Fast forward past three failed attempts to break the ice, and I was starting to get the hint.
Duergar’s Unyielding World
Here’s the thing about the Duergar: their world is one massive power struggle. I’ve never met a group so… aggressive in holding onto their self-reliance. Seriously. While most dwarves are proud of their craftsmanship or their deep roots in tradition, these Duergar? Not interested. In their world, if you can’t pull your weight, you’re basically useless. Their way of life revolves around strength, cunning, and the absolute absence of mercy for anyone who isn’t one of them. They see outsiders as nothing more than potential threats to their survival, and they will test you, watch you, and size you up like you’re a particularly weird-shaped piece of meat on a butcher’s block.
I learned the hard way. They don’t care if you’re charming. They don’t care if you brought gifts. Your soft surface-world manners? They’re just a joke in their eyes. So there I was, trying to wave my hands and explain how I was “friendly” and “not a threat”—yeah, that didn’t work.
The “Dinner Party” That Wasn’t
Now, I’ve been to some weird dinners in my time—once had to fight a basilisk for my seat at a tavern banquet, but this one took the cake. Or rather, it took my hope for a Duergar friendship. They invited me to dinner. “Whoa, they actually want to talk,” I thought. “Maybe they’ll just need some time to warm up.” Big mistake. Here’s what I didn’t get: Duergar hospitality isn’t about good vibes. It’s about gauging how weak or strong you are. If you think you’re sitting at the table for peace talks, honey, you’re mistaken.
So, there I was, surrounded by about five stone-faced Duergar, none of them offering even the slightest hint of warmth. The atmosphere was more like I’d walked into a mausoleum that just happened to have food in it. Zorgrum—the big guy who seemed to lead the pack—stared at me like I’d just told him I was thinking about adopting a pet mimic. I tried to smile. It was probably the most awkward grin I’ve ever made, and it just made them look at me like they were assessing whether I’d fit in a stew pot.
Then came the “warning” part. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, surface dweller,” Zorgrum growled, voice as deep as a cave’s echo. I thought, “Oh, okay. That’s ominous, but I’m still in this.” Mistake #2. They didn’t just want to scare me; they were testing me. Every word they spoke was a test. Every movement they made was a challenge. I should’ve caught on earlier, but no—this was my doom unfolding.
Trapped in Duergar Territory: No Escape
Fast forward through the strangest dinner conversation I’ve ever had—spoiler alert: it was just a weird silence punctuated by Zorgrum’s occasional threats—and it happened. The walls closed in. No, really. The Duergar had rigged their hall so that at any given moment, the walls could shift. And shift they did, trapping me in a dungeon-like labyrinth.
Let’s just say, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with how things turned out. I mean, sure, I probably should’ve expected it—who doesn’t expect being trapped after trying to get on the good side of a stone-hearted dwarf race that literally thrives in isolation? But it wasn’t until I saw the psionic glow from their eyes that I realized I wasn’t just out of my depth—I was at their mercy. Spoiler alert: they have none.
How Duergar Do Their “Friendship”
Here’s the kicker, though: The Duergar have a completely different idea of what “friendship” looks like. If you’re thinking “Let’s have a beer and talk it out,” don’t bother. For the Duergar, “friendship” is all about what you bring to the table. And what I brought to their table was my very naive self. They didn’t want a friend. They wanted to know what I could offer them. Could I fight? Could I stand toe-to-toe with their power? No? Alright, then I was pretty much a walking meal ticket—or worse.
I thought we were supposed to bond over shared interests. No. That was a “Me vs. You” situation the whole time. They measure your worth based on whether or not you have power to back up your words. You need more than kindness. You need steel in your spine, psionics in your brain, and maybe a better sense of how to read hostile invitations.
Escaping the Duergar Labyrinth
The escape? That was a mix of dumb luck and some serious quick thinking. My first plan was to keep a low profile and blend in like a rock. I think the Duergar were too cocky to notice I was plotting an escape, or maybe they were just bored of me. Either way, as soon as one of their psionic traps malfunctioned (yes, I found the one flaw in their system—there’s always a weak link!), I seized the opportunity and ran. Fast. Like, faster than I’ve ever run in my life, which is saying something because I once outran a kobold with a broken leg.
After an embarrassing amount of crawling through tight spaces (seriously, my ribs are still sore), I made it out. But the Duergar? They weren’t the least bit impressed by my escape. They had already sized me up, and to them, I was no more than a passing nuisance. They were fine with me leaving—after all, I wasn’t worth trapping permanently.
Lessons Learned: Don’t Try This at Home
Here’s what I learned after that mildly traumatic experience:
- Trust No One Who Lives in the Underdark: The Duergar see everything as a potential threat. If you’re an outsider, you’ll be scrutinized for the smallest sign of weakness. And once they think they’ve got you pegged, it’s game over.
- Don’t Think Kindness Will Work: I tried the whole “let’s be friends” thing. That lasted about three minutes before they started looking at me like I was a new type of meat. When it comes to Duergar, respect is earned through strength, cunning, and, in some cases, psionics.
- Survival is the Duergar’s Only Game: They don’t value anything except what’s necessary for survival. Power. Status. Their own preservation. If you don’t fit into that framework? Well, you’re just another obstacle for them to manipulate.
Final Thoughts: Should You Befriend a Duergar?
If you’re thinking about trying to befriend a Duergar, just remember: they’re not interested in friends. They’re not interested in kindness. They might pretend to welcome you, but the only reason they’d offer you a seat at the table is to see if you’ll flinch when they try to eat you alive. So, be smarter than me—learn from my colossal mistake. The Duergar don’t play by anyone’s rules but their own.
And as for me? I’ll stick to trying to befriend local tavern keepers. They’re way more forgiving.
