[center][h2]Khaz Modan[/h2][/center]
[hr]
[b]Gnomeregan, Tinkers' Court[/b]

For a city covered in -- or practically made of -- machinery, few residents complained about the noise... Partly because, for many of them, the distant sound of technology at work was an ancient evolutionary comfort from a time before they were flesh-and-bone, and in other cases, simply because those places where quiet was necessarily were thoroughly dampened against noise.

The Tinkers' Court was one such place, though dampened for necessity rather than comfort. It was, in many ways, the brain of Gnomeregan, the most important decisions in the city made around the perfectly machined dodecahedral table in its center. At one end sat the High Tinker in his lilac-purple Gnomeregan tabard, lime green goggles proudly worn atop his head despite the complete lack of need for them. To his right, Tinkmaster Overspark, replete with rigidly styled pastel pink facial hair and candy red goggles, each length of his mustache and bushy beard at least as long as his head. He, much like Gelbin, always carried a Gnomish Army Knife -- as did every Gnome worth their salt -- but he carried a veritable cornucopia of punch-cards and remotes for controlling his creations, too. Even now.

 To his Left, Kelsey Steelspark -- much like Overspark, her hair was a pinkish colour, though far more tinged with red and tied into a medium ponytail, replete with bangs that swept wide to each side of her face. She still wore her black bodysuit, eccentric as any Gnome ever was -- but unlike Overspark, she had the distinctly foreign manners to remove her crimson tactical goggles -- one lens sporting a targeting system and the other an array of various sensors, compared to Overspark's far more industrial microscopic lenses and radiation sensors.

Their guest approached the far end of the table, accompanied by two mountain dwarves, each wielding a hammer and an axe in their meaty fists. They did not expect an attack here, of course. Dwarves and gnomes were about as close as two peoples could get. They weren’t merely allies, they were family. But they were ever ready. They were now on the war footing, and the light only knew they needed to be ever ready. 

The Dwarf King did not deign to sit. Instead he stood tall, at least compared to the gnomes and others of his own people. At his sides were his two runic hammers, and on his brow sat the high crown of Khaz Modan, its red ruby glimmering in the light of the bits and bobs of machinery that surrounded them. 

Magni appreciated the ingenuity of his cousins. The dwarves weren’t nearly as obsessed with every little facet one might gain from invention, as one could probably tell when faced with dwarven and gnomish architecture. But they had a knack for invention as well, and certainly were avid engineers, particularly of war machines and transport. Magni himself was a renowned smith, as well as warrior and statesman. 

“I trust we are all here?” The King asked. “We’ve many things to discuss.”

"Ready and willing, old friend!" Gelbin replied. "We have -- as I'm sure you're aware -- completed construction of the Southshore airfield, but I believe the most pertinent matter is supplying our war-machines with fuel, yes?' Gelbin replied --  as always, he instantly launched into business. 

Magni smiled at the immediate proclamation, glad for the enthusiastic support. “Aye, we’ve got plenty of fuel. The last decade we’ve been hard at work procuring it to get our energy demands back to speed. And I think the trade opportunities with a restored northland is well worth the expense.” 

"Of course!" Gelbin replied, just as enthusiastically. Brotherhood was so embedded in the two species that one supporting the other was a practical guarantee -- regardless of the circumstances. "We're confident that, with Kul Tiran support, we can maintain a stable line of supply of fuel -- especially with a Thandol Span intact, and combined with our cargo airport. Not to mention, yes -- a reclaimed Lordaeron will make it much easier to establish offensive operations on Northrend, too." 

The Dwarf King nodded in approval, placing two large hands on the table. “I know I can always count on you, old friend. I don’t want ye to have to commit any more of your people than necessary. Ye’ve been through much.” He said, as softly as his powerful, granite voice could muster. “While this…’Scourge’ is perhaps as dangerous as the old Horde in the second war, we’re better prepared now and we’ve learned our lessons. This time, we take the fight to them.” He emphasized the proclamation with his large fist knocking on the sturdy table twice.

"Indeed we do!" Gelbin replied, earning sharp nods from the Gnomes attending them. "There does come the military matter of moving Steam Tanks through a thickly wooded area like Silverpine, however..."

Magni grinned broadly. “Oh we’ve got that well thought out.” He said cryptically, though the solution was easy, of course. “Our mortar teams and axe men are the best on azeroth, and there might still be a few workable roads even after all of the corruption. We just need to make sure we have a steady supply line by gyrocopter the further we go in. We are not like the humans, we can take our time to tighten the noose. But we still need to make haste, because they deserve their homeland as much as we with ours.” 

"Indeed they do, old friend." Gelbin nodded sagely. "...Which will make capturing ports even more crucial. Our machines will be vital -- the Scourge is slow, after all, but if we can encircle and crush them quickly..." Gelbin said, bringing his gloved hand together into a fist. "Their necromancers won't have a chance to slow us down. It's a matter of speed, and ensuring the work teams are able to keep up with the army. A careful balancing act!" 

Magni gave a laugh. “Very good! We’ll send ‘em back to hell where they belong.” He proclaimed, and as everyone was in agreement, he stopped and went. “...Wait, we can’t have a meeting without drink!”

"Oh! Of course! Speaking of, there's a new blend I've been looking to try out on you..."