Dwarves are not the adventuring kind. The explorer's spirit is not in them. Their excursions and delves are driven by necessity and greed, and the diggers and the merchants pursue their livelihoods with reluctance; curiosity, for them, is an alien quality, as much as the communal living of the dwarves is to men.

You, however, have never felt at home in the mountains. Damp darkness, hearths, and the sighing of settled stone have never held that comfort for you that it seems to hold for others of your race. You find in it rather a maddening restlessness, an tiresome repetition. The dwarves wise in such matters call it wanderlust, a sickness to be treated with boiled roots and topical ointments, yet you believe its cause lies deeper, and far too remote to be reached by their arts.

This is because...
>You are a half-breed. Your father was human.
>You have been to the surface once already
>You are an outcast
>Write-in