Ten years ago, a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn’t commit. They promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Darnassus underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire…The A-Team…
Khuma frantically jabbed Aensu in the ribs. “Hey! What is this A-Team stuff? My name doesn’t start with an ‘A’! Just because you and Arashi–”
Aensu frowned and interrupted irritably. “Shush, I’m doing my intro voice. Besides, your name ENDS with an ‘A’, and that’s just as important.”
Khuma frowned, doubtful. “Really?”
Aensu rolled her eyes, then nodded earnestly. “Absolutely, without a doubt, 100% positive. As a matter of fact, it’s probably more important, since it’s the last thing people remember about you. Now can I get on with the story?”
Khuma blushed and stepped back into the shadows. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” At her feet, Mr. Wiggles the piglet gruntled and nibbled on the hem of her robes.
Aensu gave both of them a quelling look, then turned back to her audience.
The room in front of her was full to the brim with curious children of a wide variety of races, all wearing simple linen hospital gowns.
A glance in any direction would find a collection bright-eyed gnome children leaning against the willowy legs of blue and purple-skinned night elf children. The sturdy dwarf youngsters littered the floor, some holding tattered and much-abused stuffed animals, or trailing ripped, beloved blankets.
Though the faces were wildly different, each and every child stared at the Night Elf warrior in the center of the room with a mixture of excitement and awe as she prepared to tell them a story. Aensu tossed back her short ponytail of glittering white hair and looked around her, a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“Now where was I? What story was I going to tell today?”
The room burst into life, each child joyfully shouting the name of their favorite story.
“Tell us about the Ogres!” “The Giants!” “The spiders!” This last was accompanied by gasps and squeals of horror from some of the little girls. “Tell us about the time Arashi fell off the balcony in Sunken Temple and landed in the middle of a battalion of dragonkin!”
At this, the dark rogue, who had been hiding silently in the shadows, gave a startled cough and glared at Aensu, who smirked playfully at him as the children continued to clamor.
“Tell us about the Deadmines! And the dreaded pirate Edwin VanCleef!”
The children all began to cheer at this suggestion, and the little dwarf boy who’d suggested it blushed at the attention.
Aensu winked at him, then leaned forward as though she was telling them a great an important secret. The children all grew silent and their eyes widened and sparkled with anticipation, waiting for the Night Elf to speak.
So there we were, in the “deadmines”. Pirates everywhere, or at least they were pirates when they were still breathing. The room up ahead must be the foundry, I can feel the heat from here…