I don't know where I'm goin', but I'm goin' there fast!
Don't know if there ain't a future, but there isn't a past!
Make it like the first time, so it won't be the last!
All I wanna' do is everything that you ask!
Don't ya' know I'm really getting' in the mood!
Got the jitter fingers and their ready to POP!
Baby, when we get there then the JOINT'S GONNA HOP!
Got the right feelin', baby, straight to the top!
Girl, you make my heart start beatin', flippity-flopp!
Baby, can't you tell I'm getting' in the mood!
>In the mood!
The joint is jumpin!
>In the groove!
We're on to somethin!
>In the mood!
The band is pumpin!
SWINGIN' AND A-SWAYIN', AND ROCK N' ROLLIN!
>Come on, now!
We're gonna party!
I> know how!
Yeeeeah, to get it started!
>In the mood!
I'm good to boogey!
PLAY THAT JIVIN' MUSIC, NOW!"
"Shadow, shadow"
-Instalment one
"RESULTS!" Chief Edwin VanCleef's voice rung across the depths of his underground ship-dock, it's hollow interior donating to an already impressive acoustic ability that left his disciples and, among everything else, a raid commander shot for a reply. That accounted, he continued, "I demanded RESULTS at Sentinel Hill, and what do I receive? FAILURE! Explain this!"
The aforementioned commander, a numerous high-ranking trustee by the name of Wyvern, rose to the occasion of this demand, as only 'he' could. "Sir, our siege on Sentinel Hill was going 'fine', right up until..." He would not receive the opportunity to continue before Edwin snapped, "Until those damned, filthy Gnolls showed their rotten, ungrateful faces, am I correct?"
Wyvern paused, anxiety taking a nasty hold on his tongue. However, when his superior begun to drum his fingers against the arm of his chair in impatience, he quickly started up, "Yessir, but after speculating this loss, I've developed a plan to..."
"How many times have I heard that, Wyvern?" A thick silence ensued. "How many times have I heard that and seen a LIKEWISE outcome? You've made me so VERY disappointed that I actually entrusted YOU with the duty of being my right-hand man."
No one present dared to remind Edwin that he had a multitude of 'right-hand men' which reached such extents that they practically outnumbered any other rank within the Defias Brotherhood.
This leader's sheer power and bearing, however, did not hold every mouth within the dock shut, as he would soon discover.
"Come now, Chief. Is there a call for such words? Twas' you, after all, that decided to cut ties with the River-Hide Gnolls..." A cheerful, feminine voice permeated from seemingly nowhere within the massive chamber. Though it caused most others present to begin looking for a possible source, Edwin had no such reaction.
He knew this voice well. All too 'painfully' well.
Though the owner of it held a rank within the Brotherhood that bore no 'real' significance, such as a raid commander, or a negotiator, it granted her much distinction. Aside from being a lethal Knuckle-duster, she was assigned to learn things.
MANY things.
Primarily about potential threats to the Brotherhood. But half despite, and half due to this, she was sparsely seen within the headquarters, and her very existence would slip the chief's mind for months at a time. BUT, sometimes she would simply 'materialize' like this, with something to say. Mostly trivial. Sometimes useful. But ALWAYS aggravating.
"Milyn! Show yourself at ONCE!" He nearly bellowed.
"Oh, come now, Chief, couldn't you just play along for 'once', and act as though I am a force to be reckoned with?" The voice protested, making a sheer 'fool' of the Chief in front of his more impressionable crowd. He scowled as a vein popped on his forehead.
"Just get in here, I'm 'hardly' in the mood for your little games..." Though a threatening tone sparsely made matters with Milyn easier, in this case it seemed to do the trick. From the rear of Edwin's chair, there appeared a girl, not capable of surpassing five-foot five. A cascade of long brunette hair that crowned her head was pulled back into a rather jaunty pony-tail, which loosed only a set of sharp bangs that barely prevailed past her brow. Past this, a red leather scarf veiled every facial detail, save a pair of narrow, dark brown eyes.
"As you wish." She replied after creating some distance between herself and him. "You should 'really' read up on standard Human psychology sometime, Edwin. I find that it applies to practically 'every' race in Azeroth"
Edwin stopped himself before asking just what 'that' was supposed to imply. Somehow, he felt it would only confuse him more. 'This' was Milyn, and to say she was simply 'intriguing' was a daft understatement. She was the sort of individual whose looks were surpassed 'only' by her intelligence, and she was INCREDIBALLY intelligent. Either due to that, or simply fate, Edwin played his cards right, and assigned her to be the Brotherhood's central intelligence agent.
"I sent you to Dun Morgouh. Correct?"
"Precisely."
"A two month leave, shorter than most of your 'other' assignments. What information have you gathered over such a brief time?"
"Well..." She inhaled nosily, "ABSOLOUTLEY nothing." Edwin almost choked on his own tongue. "WHAT?"
She inhaled once more. "You ordered me to travel to Dun Morgouh as to learn of the Dwarves, their profficiencies, and how they contributed to the Alliance as a whole. SO, I ventured to a city called IronForge, as my studies showed that it held one of Azeroth's best blacksmiths, and a massively stocked Auction House. As a result, I managed to acquire several engineered products such as guns, and E-Z throw dynamite for study..." Milyn produced one of both instruments mentioned from, seemingly enough, her sleeve.
"I don't believe I have to explain how either of these things operate, however I learned that both have to be supplied and manufactured to a 'very' precise grade in order to be effective, and taking control of such facilities would attract widescale attention capable of shutting us down. So, that discovery was a waste of time. I looked into their machines used for militaristic purposes, and learned the full gauge of their lethality; however they necessitate such a massive number of people to properly operate and maintain, that without a generous swelling of our current numbers, it would be near to 'impossible'. With everything I learned accounted, I conclude that the Alliance is 'far' too large and multifaceted to simply 'attack', and trying such would be an utter waste of time that would result in utter failure."
"WHAT?" Came a near unison query from both Edwin and Wyvern. "My study reveals that even by a sheer miracle, if we 'did' manage to procure anything 'major' from Dun Morgouh, it wouldn't be worth much to us." She paraphrased.
"...Oh." Edwin picked up, "Well, then, if that is all, I shall give you a 'new' assignment."
"Well, in truth..." Milyn interrupted, "I'm here to make a request of my own, Chief."
A sigh emanated from behind the Chief's mask. "Fine..."
"I wish for you to allow me to attempt taking these pesky Gnolls you speak of down, myself. I have developed a plan based on the many, MANY failures of good ole' Wyvern, here..." She gestured toward the officer, who scowled.
"Very well." Edwin stated with finality. "You may try your hand at confronting theRiver-Hide Gnolls, but you will do so with 'no' assistance from the Brotherhood, and I don't want you interfering with any of Wyvern's plans"
"Your wish is my command, Chief." Milyn smirked, bowed politely, and vanished into the prevailing shadows. Shortly thereafter, Edwin gazed at the space she once occupied. "That girl disturbs me..." He broke the silence. Wyvern quickly nodded in agreement.
For one whom didn't call the Defias Brotherhood's base of operations, the Deadmines, home, it was not so unbelievable for he or she to quickly become lost amidst its maze-like architechture. From the dawn of its creation, the massive underground labrynth had never been graced with natural light, and was being consistently added on to. Chief Edwin VanCleef was well known for implementing virtually useless orders, and the perpetual expansion of his base was just one of many.
Milyn's chamber/lab, however, was a shining beacon for the new recruit, or reckless miner that would neglect attention to their locale. With the entrance nestled in the corner of a choice T-junction that connected the mining and industrial quarters, it wasn't difficult to miss. But just in case, a complementary 'welcome' matt was placed at the foot of the heavy oak door, and to the sides a set of torches kept the general area constantly illuminated.
In contrast to the heavy darkness that enveloped most of the Deadmines, Milyn's bright, almost 'cheery' quarters housed all sorts of gadgets and gizmos that she had gained on her journeys. Directly greeting the entrance was a solid wall of weaponry, divided into neatly organized columns of guns, blades, polearms, etc.
Some came from the city of Stormwind, less than a mile and a half away, whereas others descended from seperate species, cultures, and barbaric wastelands halfway across the world.
To one corner of the room stood a landstrider. The unordinarily large, avian-esque construction was rendered still; its power supply cut and extracted to ensure no problems encurred whilst being worked on.
Kneeling behind it was Milyn's only known servant. A Night-elf named Devlin whom was recruited into a less than dangerous lifestyle by the rogue herself, on one of her more seldom inter-continental assignments. The altmer scowled as she attempted to loosen a bolt from the landstrider's leg, only to have the head of her wrench slip off--For being a technologically intuitive race, the Dwarves seemed to have a penchant for making their tools uselessly complicated. But, regardless of this, Devlin resisted the urge to adopt a more 'brute force solution' frame of mind by beating the strider till it collapsed inward, and begun negotiating with the bolt anew.
"Quickly, Devvie!" Milyn's voice rung across her lab as she burst through the door, holding her fist outward triumphantly. Devlin startled, and smacked her head on the landstrider's underside.
"Quickly 'what'?" She asked whilst rubbing her head gingerly.
"This...steam-driven contraption..." She laid a hand upon the strider's head, "must be re-structured to 'comfortably' accomodate a human being...BY THE END OF TONIGHT!"
Devlin produced something that sound vaguely like a disdainful snort.
"With a deadline like 'that', you're going to have to help out. And, this wrench..." She presented the instrument to Milyn, "Is 'impossible'! I can't get a grip with it at all!"
Milyn eyed it suspicously. "Lemme see that." then snatched it up. Turning it on its side, she examined closer, and proceeded to bop Devlin harmlessly over the head with it.
"Devvie, you doofus, this is no wrench!" Rubbing her head for the second time, Devlin's brow arched responsively. "This is a beat up enchanting rod"
"...Oohhh. Buy you're not an enchanter..."
"I know that." Milyn held it up slightly, "I 'borrowed' it from a Warlock and tested its arodynamic quality in high crosswinds. 'Just' to see if it could be used as a projectile"
The Night-elf allowed a thin smile to cross her lips, "...And the result was...?"
"Well, it wasn't so great for 'that', but it made an 'excellent' lightning rod." Now, a chuckle escaped. "So" She said after it subsided, "does this have anything to do with your presentation to the Chief?" Had Milyn not wore her bandanna, Devlin would have seen a victorius ear-to-ear beam cross her face. "Didn't even ask what I what I had in mind, he just said yes"
"Really?"
"I wouldn't lie. Now, TO THE LANDSTRIDER!" Milyn approached the big mechanical bird, and immediately begun tinkering with its head. "We've much work to do tonight, Devvie!"
I GOT ALL MY BEST THREADS AND MY FAVORITE SHOES!
NOW IT'S MY TIME TO PLAY GOT NO LOVE FOR THE BLUES!
UNDERSTAND WHAT I'M SAYIN' OH YOU BETTER GET BACK!
GOT NO TIME TO WASTE 'CAUSE I'M ONE HIP CAT!
AND WHEN I START A WORKIN I CRUISE LIKE DYNAFLOW!
AND WHEN I'M IN THE MOOD I SPREAD IT ALL AROUND!
I MIGHT BE THE MAN ONE HIP PARTY ON THE RUN!
AND WHEN YOU SEE ME COMING JUST CALL ME BIG KING FUN!
"And when the party's over, I just know where to go!
Where the after-hours people boogey, you know!
I wanna' hang awhile where the light's really low!
I whisper to my baby, and we're takin' it slow!
And baby, if you're ready, then I'm ready to BLOW!
Baby, know I'm really gettin' in the mood!
In the mood!
The joint is jumpin!
In the groove!
We're on to somethin!
In the mood!
The band is pumpin!
SWINGIN' AND A-SWAYIN'AND ROCK N'ROLLIN!
Come on, now!
We're gonna' party!
I know how!
Yeeeeah, to get it started!
In the mood!
I'm good to boogey!
PLAY THE JIVIN' MUSIC, NOW!"