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ResourceSkilling
Stackable
A fist-sized chunk of black coal, cold to the touch and oddly lighter than it looks, marking everything it brushes with a dark streak that will not come off a working glove. The surface splits along glossy conchoidal faces when dropped.
Entry
Chronicle
Cut out of the upland seams by crews who spend more of their year underground than anybody would willingly admit, and hauled out in carts drawn by ponies bred for exactly that kind of narrow work. Smelters burn it for the long steady heat that charcoal cannot hold, and the best hearths will run through a cart of it a day without blinking. The smoke is dirty enough that every major foundry has a clause in its lease about the neighbors.