Towards the end of the year, during a thaw, at nine o’clock one morning, a dwarven scout approached the stronghold Dun Garok from the north. The morning was so damp and misty that it was only with great difficulty that the day succeeded in breaking; and it was impossible for the scout to distinguish anything more than a few yards away. Then she passed out from the pain. A hatch opened near the cannon mounted on the siege engine, and a gnome and a dwarf jumped out; they were both wearing the raiment of the Hillsbrad mountaineers, and green goggles. “Well, th’ superiors can kiss mah hairy ar…”