very year, as the nights draw in longer and the snows of Dun Morogh inch higher, talk amongst the dwarves turn to Wolpertingers. These creatures have been regarded as little more than a comic myth for centuries; the visual after-effects of one ale too many and being startled by a rabbit. The fact of the matter remains that with each year’s Brewfest there is a crop of wild Wolpertinger sightings in the mountain territories of the dwarven peoples.

While the excess of alcohol might be blamed for these sightings, folk insist on believing in the existence of the Wolpertinger. Then again, considering some of the strongest believers in these creatures also believe in talking lobsters, dancing lizards and tiny pink elekk, you might think this is just the beer talking. Conclusive proof would have to consist of a Wolpertinger specimen: alive if possible, dead if not, or even a photographic image. All attempts seem to this date to have failed; photographs are blurry, carcasses are no more than dead rabbits with chicken wings and carved antlers attached to them (usually with carpenter’s staples) and live Wolpertingers are described to fade away and vanish shortly after capture.

With this year’s Brewfest having rumbled around again (and lacking work to do after kicking the goblins in the printroom a few times) I pondered the problematic tale of the Wolpertinger. How could one be captured on film, when one needs to be stinking drunk to see one? The answer came with a flash of inspiration and my seventh mug of Thunderbrew 45 – you get the camera drunk.

I immediately got out my toolboxes and sent my trusty assistant back to my workshop for some all important spares – namely the braingears from some damaged droid parts I liberated from Ulduar. The most advanced automatons can emulate intelligent creatures to various degrees, so wiring one into a heliochromatograph with a bundle of sensory doohickeys and throwing it all in a glass bowl filled with the ‘freshest’ ogre beer at the ‘Fest stand and setting it up close by the festivities I sat back and waited. And waited. And had a few mugs of Mudder’s Milk while I was waiting.

After several more mugs and topping up the brain-bowl with more ale the shutter started clattering away. I wandered off to get a sausage and a pretzel, returned to the camera and found something had knocked it over. I was pretty angry with the drunk dwarf who was tangled in my tripod, but his claim he had been trying to grab a Wolpertinger from the top of my camera filled me with hope. I hopped on my chopper and headed for home to develop the plates.

Alas I had overlooked one small factor; a drunk camera will suffer from the ‘Beer Goggles’ effect. All the photographs were blurry; blurrier than those taken by others claiming to have captured the elusive Wolpertinger’s image. There were though some tantalizing shots of small gray blobs darting across the snow. What was required was some serious scientific thinking. I returned to Brewfest and had a few more cups of the brewmaster’s finest.

Then, much like the inebriate draenei that fell on me while I was trying to get served, I was struck by a revelation. Many creatures in both this realm and others render themselves invisible by making themselves out-of-phase with the material plane. The fact that Wolpertingers are only visible while drunk suggested the ‘Beer Goggles’ effect cancelled out the intra-phasic camouflage of the creatures. So, instead of seeing out-of-phase, I would have to be out-of-phase.

With this rationale I went back to work, thankfully finding some required spare parts in the wreck of a Dark Iron mole-machine Brewfest visitors had decided to kick to bits after the Irons had staged an ill-conceived partycrashing attempt. I then dragged my altered camera into the field, activated it (watching with some pride as it blurred into nothing) and then waited. And waited. And ate a few more sausages while I waited. The camera though did nothing. I trundled back to the rowdy Brewfest crowd to grab a couple of beers to keep me company. As soon as I returned, the almost unseen camera began to whirr into life. Beer was the key. I spilt some ale onto the snow and waited until the camera’s plates were exhausted. Once again I returned to the darkroom at Herald HQ. The results were staggering.

I had indeed managed to capture several clear images of the Wolpertinger. The creature does indeed resemble a rabbit with long tusks, wings, webbed feet and antlers. The fact the creatures appear more around Brewfest relates to their diet; the little Wolpertinger loves ale! Old dwarven traditions of leaving a mug of ale out at wintertime for Wolpertingers obviously has some roots in fact. Whether the Wolpertingers simply like the taste of ale, or have grown to enjoy the warming qualities of alcohol, or use it to bolster winter fat reserves for hibernation is still a question requiring answering. However, the fact is that the Wolpertinger does exist; rendering itself invisible to probably avoid predators, and only becoming visible when vision is suitably impaired, meaning those that see it believe they are hallucinating or are discredited outright. Another myth proven by Science!

So, even though Brewfest is now over for another year, please spare a thought if you’re in the icy mountains – leave a drop out for the Wolpertinger. You won’t just be wasting a good pint.

I would like though to conclude with a sincere thank-you to the several Brewfest patrons that helped me to get home. After taking my pictures I had extreme difficulty finding my camera again. The only solution was to get good and drunk. I did find the camera, but returning to the Herald offices was another thing. So, to whoever steered me home after I collapsed outside one of the ale stands… Science thanks you. Without your assistance the truth behind the legend of the Wolpertinger might have remained that way for another year.