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It had been a rough night.

The voices in Tyrynna's head chattered louder than they usually did, making the tiniest scrap of sleep impossible. They rambled and bickered and chit and chat, of the Skyfire, of Theramore, of the mysterious Pandaren, the failed assassination at Aerie Peak, of all of the many things weighing upon the elf's mind.

Since she had chosen to take a neutral status with Gambit's founding, Tyrynna often found herself tense. She often chose rest over work, to drink and calm her mind, and pretend that the threat of Horde, and now the Alliance as well, was non-existant. She did nothing but run away from the problems she presented to herself and to Gambit as a whole, merely by their existence. She got the feeling her operatives were tiring of their inactivity, but she saw no reason to act outside of smaller skirmishes in Tol Barad and similar places.

In recent days, that had changed.

First, there was the arrival of the elusive Pandaren in Orgrimmar and Stormwind. Being a neutral race when combined, Tyrynna could see this as a good diplomatic opportunity to gain some allies. However, the possible alliance slipped her mind quickly, replaced by a predicament. The assassination that Belpha had planned had failed. Miserably. So badly that there was risk of discovery and, obviously, consequence. She wasn't sure why Belpha hadn't enlisted the Pawns of their order, but that was his mistake, not hers.

Of course, much of that left her when a more grim discovery arised.

The Skyfire. The Alliance's new toy. Among the biggest airships she'd ever seen, and it was operational and prepared for battle. Given her goal of stopping the war, a battleship of such magnitude could boast... problems.

The Horde was preparing just as so. Akira, her Horde Liaison and top spy, had reported similar developments in Orgrimmar. The Dranosh'ar Blockade and other defensive walls had been greatly bolstered, while numerous catapults were being built for assault.

Both factions, anyone could plainly see, were stronger. And with this strength, they were preparing for total war.

That night, it had become about more than just getting Varian and Garrosh to shut their pathetic mouths and play nice. She was a destruction incarnate, true, but she still felt pity. Pity for everyone that would fight, and die, for a ridiculous, needless, gods-damned war. Pity for the fools who supported it, and would be brought hell for it. Pity for all her friends... her family... who would fall.

Gambit wasn't ready to face a war on such levels. They needed to grow bigger. Better.

Stronger.

It was that night that she called upon her soldiers, as few as she knew could come. It was that night that she told them where they would go, and to leave while they still could.

Yet, it was that night that each and every operative before her refused to leave. That Promethius, Aorune, Belpha, Altris, and Lanus, each with a determined fire in their gaze, pledged their loyalty one by one in their own ways. That, and Tyrynna knew it well, Gambit started growing stronger.

Despite herself, Tyr smiled a bit as she stared up at the ceiling, and the chitter and chatter in her head finally died down. If only for a moment, she herself felt stronger as well.

Perhaps... enough that it wasn't such a rough night after all.

Belpha sat at a table in the Blue Recluse, he had his head nestled comfortably in the palm of his still living hand and using his mechanical hand, he kept a tight grasp on his mug, even though it had remained empty for the good part of an hour, he hadn't even noticed that fact, his mind so preoccupied by the day's event swirling through his head like an unwelcome storm, his mind was like fog rolling in off the coast, all the details,all the news, convalescing into a sea of thoughts and memories, The Skyfire, The Dranosh'ar Blockade, the mysterious Pandarens, The Horde, The Alliance, but, to Belpha, all that mattered was one tiny, little detail, the assassination at Aerie Peak, it refused to stop nagging at the back of his head, unforgettable and unignorable, and the worst part was that he had failed, It was on no one else, It was his fault in it's entirety, and that disappointment was something he would have to shoulder alone.

Belpha reached to pull the mug up to his mouth and eyed the mug with sadness when no drink met his waiting lips. His gaze shifted downwards shamefully towards the mug, Which mug was this? How many more had he already had? How many more was he planning to have?, this was not the man he was nor the man he knew he should be, this was the man he'd become, a man who would rather drink his sorrows away instead of confront them, and it had culminated into a failure he would never get over. Belpha's eyes exploded with fiery determination as he lifted his mug off the table and hurled it across the bar with enough force that the solid steel mug shattered when it collided with the wall. he placed both of his hands down on the wooden table with so much force, the 3 empty bottles of Pinot Noir and the long empty mugs of bourbon that he'd already drank that night were catapulted off the table and hit the floor in a cacophony of fierce resolution. He slid back his chair with enough force to leave a gouge in the wooden floor, then he stood up and strode out of the bar and into the unforgiving night with a determined look on his face. Belpha was ashamed of his recent actions and failures, and now it was on him to man up and face the truth. He must become stronger. He must become the man that he needs to be. He must become Belpha Lyron, The Hexing King and Second-In-Command to Gambit, and he will live up to his name and he will fail no more.

Tyrynna Stormshade has rallied the men and women of Gambit, and we are ready and we are strong. we will have to face our worst nightmares, unmentionable losses, and overwhelming odds, but we will endure, for we are Gambit!

We shall not give up, We shall not lose hope, and above all else We shall NOT LOSE!


War Is Coming

Aorune did not sleep. He watched the Dalaran stars for the night, thinking over the recent events that had reached his life.

Aorune had been a crusading member of the Alliance against the Horde. Judiel had been a wake-up call. He couldn't bring the sword upon her when he saw his sister, pale, cold...

Like him.

Fireblade thought of the Skyfire. It was, plain and simply, a weapon for open warfare. In his days as a Commander of a millitary, he would have been enthusiastic to see it in the skies of northwestern Stormwind. Now, as a neutral in a world bent on destruction, he wanted it gone. Gambit couldn't destroy it in any way, however, and he knew it. Aorune would not dare cross the S1:7. When Stormwind's most highly skilled group of spies, assassins, and hunters set their eyes on you, you're good as dead as Terenas Menethil.

For a split moment, Aorune thought of what his life would be if he had fallen at Southshore and joined the Forsaken. Aorune quickly pushed that question away, for it was one he did not want to confront.

Dranosh'ar was fortified beyond what it it already was if Akira was right about anything. The Exodar was operational.

That was frightening. An operational Exodar alligned to a faction in the turmoil of warfare. If Aorune's assessment of the ship was anywhere near the truth, it could flatten the four capital cities of the Horde in mere minutes.

The Pandaren hardly came into thought that night. It didn't effect Fireblade directly at all, and it just supplied more troops to either side.

Aorune had used the last remaining connections he had to Gilneas to contact Lordnean Command. The Skyfire wasn't to be allowed in Lordnean airspace, and if it was, there would be blood shed across an already bloodied ground.

Fireblade's thoughts shifted to the Red Phoenix Council, the group Judiel had -surprisingly- gotten herself into. He did not know what, but something was afoot over there, and what he could gather from his sister he surmised there was a chaotic situation happening at the Firebird Meadhall.

Aorune Fireblade turned from looking to the sky at his porch, opting instead to walk around the city for the rest of the night.

Tyrynna Stormshade's little group of misfits bent on shutting up Garrosh and Varian was about to get serious. It was time that a neutral faction used strength and tactics to attempt faction peace.