It was a long voyage and a longer journey that took the Seven Dwarves of the Royal and Most Illustrious Explorers' League's first expedition to their digsite. On the sea, a storm tossed their ship about as though it were made of something easily tossed about, and Erthad Ironbrow was violently ill. All the others laughed at him.

Then, upon reaching the frozen land of Northrend, the party was met by a ravening band of Walrus-men. Seeing no other option, the team cut down the rotund abominations and toiled their slow, weary way toward the Storm Peaks in the north.

After many days, they found themselves at the digsite Lord Brann Bronzebeard had designated to them. It was an enormous mountain, dotted here and there with withered trees. An icy stream flowed along the edge of a stretch of flat ground at its base.

Then the giants attacked.

Well, perhaps not giants. Not quite so large as that. Overlarge humans might be a more accurate description. They appeared as if from nowhere, and attacked the party. After a long and bloody battle, the Tall Folk lay dead, but so did dear old Canon Foddersson.

Their numbers and hearts thus reduced, the team began to work.

Strike the earth!