Ever since GarGar and his army began their march, it had rained incessantly. Riverbeds were swollen, washing out bridges, making fording them a nightmare. Canons were sunk in the mud, and required teams of men and horses to drag them along. Both the foot soldiers and the mounted knights had begun to grumble. Even GarGar himself felt out of sorts and uncharacteristically short-tempered. Almost before it had begun, GarGar was ready to cancel the campaign.
On this, the worst day yet, GarGar and his lieutenants stood on the riverbank, surveying the situation. To their amazement, all manner of things were washing down the torrents- a cow, a sawyer, pieces of fencing, pieces of houses. It was difficult for GarGar to watch, but he was compelled to do so. Finally, he spoke. “That’s it! We are going to make camp here and wait for the rain to subside and the river to go down. We simply cannot go on!” His lieutenants all heaved sighs of relief.