“Let me get this straight … hold on,” Captain Tharran said, raising his rifle to his shoulder, and squeezing off a shot. The sound echoed across the snow field south of Kharanos. “So it wasn’t just a big earthquake that caused all this?”

“Nay,” Mountaineer Ringo Flinthammer said, ducking down behind a disabled steam tank. “Ye didnae see the great big dragon, then? He smashed up Stormwind somethin’ fierce. The Bar With No Name in the district got crushed and he blew up the Old Barracks.”

“A dragon? No — there was just the quake. Hold on,” Tharran said, firing another shot. “That was enough, I reckon.”

“Well, there is some good news, at least,” Ringo said, standing up and firing.

“Aye? What’s that?”

“At least the Frostmane got the worst of it,” Ringo said, firing another shot at one of the charging trolls. The blue-skinned troll, struck in one shoulder, spun and fell face-first in the snow, turning it red as he landed. “Between us, the gnomes and the troggs, Ah reckon we can chase them right out of Dun Morogh.”