The old Dwarf King sat, smoking a mysteriously aromatic tobacco stuffed into an ancient pipe. His still sharp eyes surveyed the surroundings as he pondered on days long gone. Happier, busier days, when the mines were still rich with gold and gemstones, and his people were free.

The once lush meadow in which he sat, was now nothing but an unattractive mess of mixed grasses and weeds. The sky also suited his melancholy mood. The watery sunlight was caught up in clouds that gave off a tepid white light. Night would come quickly as the hurrying darkness of winter reached up and swallowed the daylight.

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