"Boss Michael!" greeted one of the Dwarves.
Michael greeted the greasy Dwarf by locking arms together—a sign of friendship in Dwarven culture.
"Oh, new project?" the Dwarf asked, seeing the piles and piles of ores and minerals he had on the desk.
Michael nodded. "Yep. I'm planning this to be our new money maker, but it's still a work in progress."
"Well, if you need any help, you can count on us, boss!" said the Dwarf, flexing his biceps.
Michael would take him up on his offer, of course. He'd need to manufacture phones by the thousands at the very least, and that was not something that he could do by himself.
"How are your abilities in making Mithril?"
Creating that Mithril was not something that just any Dwarf could do. It required talent and practice—lots of it.
"It's doing all right, boss. We're nowhere near your level, but we can make a few more if we're incentivized with beer, hahaha!"
