[center][img]http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs11/i/2006/255/2/b/Cheshire_Cat_by_SomethingFeline.jpg[/img][/center]

Greesh rolled his short body beneath the bent legs of the mechapod. While the gnome fiddled in the mechanical guts of the steam automoton, he caught sight of a rat scurrying through the shadow cast by the machine. A very human thought crossed his mind, smash the creature with your wrench, but the gnome shook the evil impulse from his head. Around him, human pilots and engineers milled sharing gossip over steaming cups of morning coffee. None knew enough about a mechapod to change a leg hinge sprocket without nicking the femoral hydraulic line. That's why they needed the gnomes. Gnomish mechanics to fix gnomish machines designed by gnomish inventors and all for the glory of the round-ears. It sickened Greesh when he thought to much about it, so he didn't. Instead he focused on his work, unscrewing the central compartment to get at the cardiac grease zerts. While he pumped each steel nipple full of lubricant, he began to feel the ache creep in. Centuries of life in human factories had made his kind among the most resisant to iron and its foul sister steel, but not immune. Being hemmed in on all sides by the gray metal made Greesh's skin crawl and he made sure to wear thick leather gloves before getting close to it. Handling the plates and screws, even with the gloves, was like palming incandescent ingots fresh off the forge. Out of the corner of his google rimmed eye, the gnome saw movement and his fuzzy ears detected a faint squeek. Turning his head slightly he saw his rodent friend, but something was wrong, the rat was floating? 

Greesh blinked, suddenly unsure if he was awake or dreaming. Then two eyes materialized, yellow and laughing overtop the levitating corpse. A sleek feline body of violet and black patterned stripes followed, condensing out of the air like furry dew drops on a cool morning. A ceilican, a fae cat. Greesh had never seen one so far outside the Blight and he knew if the humans found a magical creature, they'd slay it instantly. "Shooo," Greesh whispered waving his grease stained gloves at the kitty, "back to the Blight with you." But the cat seemed unconcerned by the little gnome's warnings and instead stood silently, prey between its fangs, looking with wide curious eyes. Only the hard tack of an officers dress shoes on the machine shop floor managed to spook the cat. Greesh sighed in relief watching it run off but quickly inhaled the breath when he saw the ceilican dart right under Major Jenson's dress slacks.

"What was that lieutenant?" the major asked, following the purple flash as best he could across the chaotic floor of the motor pool.

"Oh probably just a stray, sir," explained the straight laced junior officer, "we let them hunt on the grounds, keeps the pest population down."

"I see, well that's good thinking I suppose Darrick. Now about this new schedule..."

"Yes sir, I looked it over and, speaking freely, I'm pleased. Daily drills were never enough."

"Hrrrmmm," the major grumbled, "can't say I agree. Putting our boys through three combat drills a day is only going to make them exhausted and I don't like exhausted men," his eyes lofted up to a massive mechapod, standing on six stout legs the width of tree trunks and shadowing an area the size of a ball field, "at the controls of leviathons."

"You make an excellent point, Major," the lieutenant backpeddled, "but if the new schedule is not to your liking why not...."

"Orders come down from the brass, this new propositions got them more startled than a fat rat at a goblin supper...." The general took in the crowded floor with it's numerous faery workers, gnomes tuning up engines and dwarves hauling ordinance. "And, I can't say I don't understand their concern." He tossed his cigar onto the concrete and ground it out harshly against the stone. "We should just keep all these fae on collars until that law is voted down."