"If I can offer some advice? Don't," the dwarf says, gruffly, puffing on his cigar a few times. "I 'ad both legs when I tried my hand at the bastard, 'bout fifteen years ago. Lucky I came back at all, even if it were missing a piece. I was lucky. Anyone fool enough to wander into its territory deserves to be eaten. You surface dwellers think that they earned the name 'land shark' just fer digging? Heh. Yer free to try, o' course, and I'll give ye directions, but ye'll want to make arrangements for yer funeral in advance. Some suggest holding the funeral, first, before ye leave; then ye can at least hear all the nice things people got to say about ye."<br/><br/>The dwarf grins at him; it's hard to tell how much of what he says is true, and how much is bluster... but losing his leg was probably not an exaggeration.