The mine to the south of the village of Whitehill is known only by that marker, and has been haunted for decades at the very least. Any who venture there are in danger on two counts: firstly from the poisonous gas that seeps out of the coal seams in the shafts, and secondly from the ghosts - gnomish phantasms killed by a poisonous gas during a wedding years ago.
The mine is a coal mine, left abandoned for 103 years. The interior smells slightly acrid, and the quality of the air depends entirely on the location within the mines, and whether or not the ventilation mechanism is operating – in case the players destroy it at the ghosts’ behest. There are several levels beneath the first, but the tunnels down have been blocked off, and, in any case, the noxious air makes exploration impossible.
The floors were once wooden boards, but they have greyed and begun to decay over the decades.
On Entering the Mine
"Through the passageway that leads into the rock, the roof immediately breaks off to a high ceiling, mouldering beams holding the stone aloft. The chamber is a tall square hall, with a passageway directly across and one to either side. Curling boards creak underfoot, and four thick tree-trunks stand in the corners. A series of old shelves line the room, and two lanterns, one cracked, hang next to the side passageways."
A Mine Marked by Tragedy
South Whitehill Mine was once a beacon of gnomish ingenuity. The family that owned the mine had no grand aspirations to rival the vast coal operations of the larger settlements. Instead, they prided themselves on their mastery of air purification—a revolutionary ventilation system designed to neutralize the poisonous gases endemic to coal mines. It was a craft born of necessity, as coal-rich veins often harbored lethal gases that had claimed countless lives. The mine was a testament to their creativity and dedication, and business was thriving.
The mine’s darkest hour came during a day meant for joy: the wedding of the foreman’s eldest daughter. The entire family and several guests had gathered underground for a celebratory toast in the grand entrance hall, festooned with flowers and lanterns. What they didn’t know was that their rivals had tampered with the ventilation system, sabotaging it with devastating results. As the machine ground to a halt, toxic gases flooded the chamber. By the time anyone realized the danger, it was too late. Nearly everyone present suffocated, their lives extinguished in an instant. The gnomes' deaths left a pall over Whitehill, and the mine was soon abandoned.
A Haunting Atmosphere
Even now, over a century later, the memory of that tragedy lingers in the oppressive silence of the mine. The air within is heavy and acrid, carrying with it an unsettling, metallic tang. The ancient wooden planks beneath visitors' feet groan ominously, as if bearing the weight of memories too grim to fade. The towering beams holding the roof seem to shiver in the dim light, and the shadows play tricks on the mind, creating flickering illusions of movement. The shelves in the main chamber still hold remnants of the gnomes’ lives—rusted tools, faded ledgers, and broken keepsakes, all slowly crumbling to dust.
Occasionally, faint sounds echo through the tunnels: a quiet sob, the notes of a wedding tune, or the soft rasp of labored breathing. The gnomish phantoms remain tethered to their final moments, restless and bitter. They wander the mine, veiled in sorrow and rage, their translucent forms flickering like dying lanterns. The air grows colder where they tread, and the smell of flowers—a strange contrast to the coal dust—sometimes heralds their arrival. These ghosts are not mindless but deeply emotional, their grief curdling into resentment toward anyone who dares disturb their resting place.
The Ghosts Disturbed
The mine once belonged to a family of gnomes, who bought the plot of land on which the mine rests in order to begin a coal-mining company. Their business was less the coal, but specifically the ventilation system that they had built in order to remove the toxic gases. However, their machine was sabotaged on the night of their eldest daughter’s wedding, causing the entire family to die gruesomely. The mine sat abandoned for a time, until a mining party of dwarves bought the rights. However, they died or fled not long after.
In more recent history, a small group of vagrant wererats are attempting to escape the persecution of their kind: in order to leave their home city, they signed up to be workers at a circus, but were refused the opportunity to leave, forced to become slave labour. They are on the run, and are using the mine as a hideout. However, their repair of the ventilation system and their use of the mine is seen as the basest of insults to the spirits of the dead gnomes, who are now beginning to wander the land of the living once more.