[center][h1][color=#0881f6]The Second Alliance[/color][/h1][/center]

[center][h2][b]The War Room, Southshore Citadel[/b][/h2][/center]

A detailed map of Lordaeron, Gilneas, Southern Quel’Thalas, and Northern Khaz Modan was sprawled out on the great, central table of the War Room in Southshore Citadel. Beautiful and refined figurines were spread across the map, consisting of a whole swath of colors that signified their respective commanders: White for the Scarlet Crusade; Red for Stromgarde; Gold for Quel’Thalas; Purple for Dalaran; Black for Gilneas; Orange for Khaz Modan; and Green for Kul’Tiras. The Scourge was signified by plain-gray stone figurines.

The council of humans had only minutes to convene in the chamber before a cadre of Khaz-Modanian dwarves tromped into the War Room, Thargas Anvilmar and High Priest Geradin.

In reply, the Ashbringer laughed heartily, 

“Master Anvilmar! Blessed are we to have your quick strength and steadfast courage. Yes! We should drink and discourse! The beginning of any Crusade must be a holy celebration!”

High Inquisitor Fairbanks ushered in a set of casks, carried by six men each. The Ashbringer had prepared for Dwarvish appetite and Elven critique: six casks of lager, six casks of cider, six casks of port wine, and six casks of Southshore Mead - the Ashbringer’s personal preferred flavors of cinnamon, carraway, and nutmeg. There was more than enough for three-hundred soldiers. The work of planning a war took as much.

The wizards for their part arrived fashionably late, the characteristic [i]wump-wump-wump-wump-wump[/i] of teleportation heralding their arrival. Rather smugly, they took their place last. 
The Grand Crusader spoke solemnly:
 
“Here we have a depiction of the frontlines, as we know them, and the potential forces that array them. Alas, we’ve not been able to maintain a full levy in the face of the prolonged campaign against the Scourge which we’ve been forced to wage. Hillsbrad has been secured, but largely thanks to the efforts of Dalaran, Gilneas, and the Stromic Contingent. However, with the reopening of the Greymane Wall, we have the opportunity to resurge and reclaim our homeland…Give me your best, and I will give you your nation.”

Incense rolled in the room as the words hung in the air.

“And our best you shall have!” came the sound of a handful of small, high-pitched voices in concert -- led by Gelbin Mekkatorque and Tinkmaster Overspark, Dr. Manaswitch  and Captain Tread Sparknozzle -- wearing Scarlet tabards -- marched into the meeting chamber. Clad in the sort of formalwear only Gnomes would wear, each looked like they were in the middle of building some strange contraption when they decided to attend the meeting... Which they probably were.

“We’ve prepared a few... [i]Inventive[/i] advantages for the battles ahead that I’m sure you’ll find useful. I would explain the precise details for you at this juncture, but... That would take quite some time.
“And we’re eager to see them.” Another voice echoed -- soft, feminine, and welcoming, Calia smoothly crossed the threshold into the chambers, clad in the white robes of a priestess of a holy light. Down the center ran a long, black band -- and on each side, strips of bright, sunny yellow. "But you're likely correct, High Tinker."

“The Gilneans have yet to arrive,” Calia said, quietly stepping into the chamber, the gold hair that typified the Menethil dynasty flowing behind her shoulders like waves of grain. “...But they’ve been spotted not far out of town, and should be arriving shortly.”
Antonidas would begin lighting up a pipe from his seat, the fire streaking from his finger to the pipeweed instantly bringing forth a gout of foul smelling smoke from the wooden tube. “Right, the best. Hurrah!” the wizard chimed in, giving a sideways look to the rest of the assembled magocracy that all immediately muttered concurrence save Kael’Thas who remained in his brooding silence.

“- they really should improve their defences, these wards are rudimentary at be-” The sonorous, if slightly rushed, voice prefaced the appearance of the speaker by a scant few moments, the air in an occupied space in the room shimmering with the distortion of the arcane as a number of figures began to take shape. First as anonymous silhouettes against both the light of the room and the backdrop of spellwork, then condescending in a brief flash into more solid forms. In a moment, the owner of the voice was obvious. Standing among those gathered were the two surviving Proudmoore children, as blonde as their mother had once been.

Of the two, despite a brief look of surprise that they had even arrived in the first place, Tandred seemed the more conformed to the occasion of the two, dressed in a smart and well cut tunic of deep green, inlaid with golden filigree and the crest of the Admiralty, the anchor, placed over his heart, he looked every bit the prepared diplomat of noble lineage. The only tell that but moments before he had been at his command at sea was the smell of sea spray about him, and the slightly wild styling of his closely cropped hair and beard. With a respectful dipping of his head to those assembled, his eyes drifted to the map set out, immediately drawing in the situation that the pair had been late to the discussion of.

His sister, instead, was practically a blur of sudden motion as she moved to greet her old tutor, and childhood friend Calia, in turn. Jaina Proudmoore, despite her status as a member of the Proudmoore family and now Lady of Theramore, still wore the purple and white of Dalaran. As with her brother, her styling was impressive, if modern, by the standards of politics. Since moving to Dalaran, Jaina had never been known to be understated, and the gown she wore spoke more of the Elven influence on the mage city than the more conservative style of her homeland or Lordaeron. Her robe, mostly white trimmed with gold, cutaway low on her chest and in an oval design at her midsection. The purple was present in the flowing cloak across her shoulders and in twin tressels flowing out from her hips. It was notable that the Proudmoores arrived without any further entourage, and for all Tandred’s ability at arms and on the sea, there was no doubt as to how they could do so. Aside from the magical afterglow of the teleport, the young ruler of Theramore crackled with power, even as a charmingly embarrassed smile touched her lips.

“Oh…We’re here, you’ll have to forgive me, casting a teleport from a ship’s deck makes temporarily a little more challenging.” While some may consider her display clumsy in matters of diplomacy, Lady Proudmoore was a dab hand at such things, appearing both charming and disarming all at once, with a sense of clumsy whimsy that even those who knew her might never be able to pin down if it was a deliberate act.

“And for our father’s absence, he extends his blessings upon this effort, although he is busy with the pressing matter of the Horde and its threat to the world.” Tandred picked up the end of his sister’s sentence, and in doing so explaining the missing presence of the Lord-Admiral, albeit with a flicker of discomfort at the topic from Jaina, “But we assure you, we are able to speak in his stead.”

"And we are glad to have you, Lady Proudmoore, Lord Proudmoore, and wish King Proudmoore the best in his endeavors," Calia smiled in reply, her expression just as warm and welcoming as it always was... Even if she spoke in a way that seemed slightly stilted and uncomfortable. She did offer Jaina a particular nod regardless; a cloaked apology for the stiff formality of her greeting to a friend. "You missed some of the arrivals, but we've yet to move to strategic matters, as things are. There is good news, however, that I'm not certain you've heard just yet..."

She cleared her throat, the guise of formality briefly falling as she turned to face Jaina, her polite smile breaking into an excited grin. "The Greymane Wall has opened once more, and the King himself is nearly at Southshore, alongside Duke Crowley, and should thus be joining us shortly. Word travels quite quickly, and they bring with them good tidings, but... I think it best King Greymane deliver them himself," she explains, allowing her shoulders to relax, slackening slightly.

"It's a shame that Quel Thalas will not be joining us, but, nonetheless, I must admit, I'm quite heartened to see the Alliance together like this once again, even if it's under such dire circumstances."

"Indeed!" The High Tinker agreed, reaching up to gently adjust his goggles -- always present, despite being unnecessary and, on occasions like this, perhaps a little gauche. "We are much stronger together than we are apart!"

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