"Reills. E'en the name makes me shudder. That there is unholy ground, cursed by most gods. Not even the demons and devils and the incarnations o' evil dare step foot there. Reills. You know me, I think money likes it in my pocket instead of wherever else it is. But, and I've heard rumors that say this, if theirs treasure on that ground, it ain't going in my pocket on pain o' death."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub.
In an isolated mountainous region, the local miners build their stone huts right next to the sarcophagi of their dead. In the winding tunnels of their mines, the spirits of their ancestors toil alongside them, sensing where the best deposits will be found and guiding their picks' strokes.