An Elf among Humans

Just a little something I've been thinking about lately, as some of you know. If you like it, I'll keep going, and add more of you in If not, meh, I'll keep going because I like the idea. Let it be known that this has not happened, nor ever will, but after several enquiries by me to various people, I've found that people would like to know 'What if?' I've hidden a few references to stuff I like, some obvious, some not. See if you can spot some, and above all, I hope you enjoy the reading!

--------------------------

Magyk Sunwing landed with a sickening crunch on the cold floor of the building, sure several of his newly healed ribs were broken, or at the very least cracked. He didn't open his eyes while the ethereal purple sparks did their work, reattatching the shattered bones for what felt like the millionth time.
“Who the fuck are you?!”
Magyk opened one eye, and leapt to his feet at the sight of the short dumpy Human who had shouted from behind the long counter that was the only feature of the blank room. Magyk brushed himself down, his tall gaunt frame emphasised by his dark robes. Then he looked once more at the Human.
“Better question....Where on Azeroth am I? Stormwind? And try not to use profanity, it's so childish.”
“What the hell's Azeroth, a club? I want to know how you got 'ere. I've got work to do tonight without filling out forms about you, and don't talk to me about my bloody swearing, 'cos I'll...”
Magyk sighed as he faded out from what the Human was saying and began inspecting his surroundings more closely. Posters in Common told him he was in Human lands, but at what Time, he couldn't fathom. Long lights on the ceiling, clearing engineered, not magical, the floor, hard, but not stone, the walls covered in notices about knife crime, missing persons and something called 'drink driving' and why you shouldn't do it. After a few minutes, in which two people in uniform entered from a door beside the desk and exited through a pair of glass doors that seemed to open by magic, chuckling at him as they went, the Blood Elf turned and regarded the Human again disdainfully, trying desperately to remember his lessons in Common from years ago.
“My name is Lord Magister Magyk Sunwing of Quel'thalas, Duke of Duskwither, Spellbreaker General, Grand Warlock of Silvermoon, and High Administrator of Sunwing Enterprises. I would like to speak to whoever is in charge here.” He paused and waited for the man to open his mouth to reply. “Now.” Then he stood back and began pretending to admire a series of potraits on the wall, depicting several authoritative looking figures being presented with pieces of parchment. He glanced at the man, who appeared now to be talking into small object about the size of a Gnomish Army Knife, mentioned the word 'drunk' and put the thing down. Magyk strode over to him and swiped the object off the desk, twirling it around in his hands even as the mans podgy fingers grasped uselessly at the air for his contraption back.
“What is this, communicator? Voice recorder of some kind, no no, I was right the first time, some ingenious device....Gnomish?” He looked at the man, and carried on without waiting for an answer. “Could be Goblin I suppose but it doesn't seem likely to explode. What's it made from?” Magyk started trying to bend the device, succeeding only in snapping the object in half. Undettered, he dropped the pieces in front of the man. “Probably useless anyway. Sorry what did you say. Plasmid? Plastic, right, right....what are you whimpering about now?”
For the Human had begun complain in aggravated tones about the price of 'phones' and that Magyk had broken property belonging to 'Police', whoever that was. Magyk, in his usual style, ignored the man and began looking at the other things behind the desk. Several trays of paper, a pot holding something like some advanced form of quill without the feathery bit, a 'plastic' box with a glass screen, which currently displayed a revolving badge of some kind, a long piece of 'plastic' with lots of buttons on in front of the box, and a large book entitled 'The Return of the King' by some man with too many initials. The Human mistook his interest for 'I want to break things' and pushed Magyk back slightly. And then he finally saw Magyk's eyes, and screamed at a pitch that really shouldn't be heard. Within ten seconds Magyk was surrounded by similarly dressed men and women, and stared at him with varying degrees of shock. One of them demanded he remove his hood, and with great reluctance he did so, his pointed ears, long eyebrows and fel-green eyes being forced into the eyes of these lower class peasents. Only one face showed anything but horror. That face showed wonder, and awe, and belonged to the thinnest of the Humans around him. This new face stepped forward, stumbling slightly over the feet of his colleagues before coming to a stop before Magyk. He drank in all of Magyk's features, and his robes, before whispering....
Sin'dorei....

Slowly regaining consciousness I hear the sound of humans speaking common, the sun is on one side of my face and the other is resting on cool, grassy, ground. Apart from a banging headache, I recognise all too well from the times I have drunk cheap bourbon, I feel no other pain so can only assume I am out of sight of the humans at present. I remain still and listen to the human voices; I only have a basic understanding of common, enough to enable me to order drinks and to hold a basic conversation. I pick out four, maybe five voices and some laughter, they all sound male and sound very close to me.

“Think he’s ok? He’s been there a while now”

“Yeah he’s breathing, just some pisshead sleeping off the drink after a party, I mean look what’s he’s wearing, those ears!”

More laughter.

“When is Tiny's lot getting here then?” they carry on talking, something about some friends or whatever that are supposed to be meeting up with them. I risk opening my eyes slightly, in front of me I see six males, all heavily built but thankfully none in military armour. They all seem to have the same guild markings on their backs; one starts to turn so I close my eyes. I go through in my head what I managed to see. They were all pretty much dressed in black leather armour, although most of it looked ill fitting, unlike my own. I just had time to make out the words “Wheelz of Steelz” on their guild markings, they were all in leather armour so maybe an alliance guild of rogues? I ponder on this, the alliance have decided to assemble a guild of rogues to combat the Vile Thorn, but they all seemed pretty large and..well…overweight to be much of a threat and I saw no visible daggers. What did catch my attention was the array of motorcycles next to them, many more different types than we have available in the horde, damn them having the best gnomish engineers on their side.

A roar of engines heralds the arrival of more of their guild, or their friends? I stay still, eyes closed and listen to the greetings, more laughter about some ‘pisshead’ and then banter over who is paying and something about “bacon butties” and mugs of “char” as the voices move away and I am left in silence.

Opening my eyes, I see that there is no one around and I quickly stand up and look around at the unfamiliar surroundings. Across from me is a low stone built-building, maybe of human or dwarven design – must be the guild headquarters for the “Wheelz” since there are many motorcycles parked outside. I had tried to convince the other Thorns to get Mechanohogs but they mostly prefer their skeletal mounts so I quickly gave up. I look around in the bright sunshine and frown, I see few shadows that I can slip to should the need arise. I need to get out of these alliance lands and back to horde territory, fast. I’ve no idea where I am or even which way is home, but there is a road running past that must lead someplace important judging by the number of gnomish contraptions I see passing-by at some speed. My head is pounding, so I reach into an inside pocket and pull out a pair of Tigerseye Goggles to protect my eyes from the bright light and hopefully dull the banging pain in my head.

The last thing I remember from the night before is leaving Silvermoon, very drunk, to head to Fairbreeze and see if Catari was up for a few more drinks, she stocks great bourbon. Then I woke up here, I can only think that I passed out and my Thorn brothers thought it funny to leave me to wake-up in Alliance lands with my comms missing. When I find out who was involved....they will surely see what sort of a sense of humour I have.

I eye up the line of motorcycles, I am pretty sure that with a combination of my engineering and lock-picking skills I can get one started and get on my way home. I slip to the side of the building and start to edge my way around to the front, and the line of gleaming motorcycles. Closest to me is a red one, a lot sleeker looking than my Mechanohog and since it is in horde colours, well, surely it was meant to be that I take? The owners name is etched on the side, "Ducati" and i briefly glance to the building doorway, wondering which one he was. Maybe the one with a beard that looked like a dwarf, sounds kinda like a dwarven name. Clinging to what little shadows there are and staying as low under the window as I can, I start to work on the ignition system. It only takes a few minutes and the small lights on the dials light up. I grin and jump on, flick what I hope to be the starter and the bike roars into life. I am aware of a people standing up at the window behind me and as I pull away to the road, I half hear them yelling and wave the traditional one-fingered salute as I pull onto the road and accelerate away.

"That bloody pisshead took Smog's bike!"

"After him!"

I roar down the road weaving in and out of the other vehicles, this bike is great, so much more manoeverable than my mechanohog and the acceleration is something else. This one's a keeper, I'm taking this back to Silvermoon. I glance in the mirrors and frown, damn, they are following me. I twist the throttle and pull away, narrowly missing an oncoming vehicle and barely having time to flick a finger at him as his horn blares at me.

The greenery gives way to buildings, many more buildings and none of them look horde. I curse my luck at picking the wrong direction. There are more and more vehicles and I struggle to keep moving, and the bikes behind are getting closer seemingly more used to such busy roads. I see a side road and swerve across the oncoming traffic, to more horns, and accelerate away, looking behind I see they are slower to cross the traffic and I laugh as I turn back, only to see a very large vehicle pulling out in front of me. I slam on the brakes and lose control momentarily, regaining my balance enough to take the road on the left but as I straighten up my front wheel clips the curb and I find myself again careering across the road, some thick bushes breaking my fall as the bike goes one way, and I the other.

The roar of bikes is deafening as I clamber my way out of the bushes, face scratched and daggers drawn and ready to fight for my life as I stand facing a crowd of at least ten alliance.

"My bike!" yells the tall one in red and black well fitting armour, "He's scratched the tank and oh hell the fairing is cracked, that'll cost me a bloody fortune!". I look at the one I assume to be called Ducati "er..sorry...it's a..er..was a good bike".

I look back at the others, who seeing my blades have backed away and stare at me angrily.

"Right" I say, trying to sound in control, "Just get back to Stormwind and I'll get back to Silvermoon and we pretend this never happened eh? No one needs get hurt".

"Think those knives are real, Tiny?" speaks a small dwarvish looking human with a bushy red beard.

"Dunno Mojo but he sounds foreign, bet he smuggled them in wiv 'im" replies a very large ogre-looking one.

"Bloody cross-breeds" I mutter, my eyes constantly scanning the crowd for any sign of weapons being drawn.

Sirens....more humans arriving but these ones drive 4-wheeled vehicles. Again I don't recognise the guild, no tabards but they have the guild name "Metropolitan Police" emblazoned across their vehicles. They get out and I notice all are wearing matching armour, clothies it seems, nice easy targets and not a paladin in sight.

"Right gentlemen, what seems to be going on here" says one of the Meties

"Watch out Sarge, those knives the one in fancy dress is wearing look pretty real to me" says another Metie.

"This bastard stole my bike!" says Ducati, pointing at me.

"What?" I reply with my best innocent look, "No way!"

"Yeah he did" chips in Tiny, "Us are all witnesses officer"

I look at Sarge and remove my goggles, pulling down my mask I smile warmly. "You the guild leader? Look, I found myself on alliance lands by some error and just want to get back to Silvermoon, I aint here looking for trouble".

Sarge, the Meties and all the Wheelz turn and look at me, staring as if they have never seen a sin'dorei before.

I smile and grip my blades tighter. "See the tabard, yeah? I'm a Thorn, I don't want to fight you, but I sure as hell will if you make any move to stop me leaving".

I glance nervously as I notice a couple of Meties moving to the side.

"Now, sonny, put those fancy knives down and we can go get you some place nice and warm to sober up".

I turn and look at Sarge. "Final warning, friend, just get your guild to move and there won't be any trou-"

I yell out in pain as fire shoots through my veins, I look down to see two small spikes through my arm-amour, attached to wires held by a Metie.

I can't stop myself dropping my blades and my legs give way and I fall to the floor. As soon as I hit it, the Meties guild jump on me, pinning me down and fastening my hands behind my back. One of them gingerly picks up my blades as if they will explode or something and places them in a bag. Struggling, I am dragged to my feet and another Metie starts removing my many throwing blades and searching my pockets. Each item is placed in a bag to looks of astonishment from the two guilds as the many throwing blades and poisons are placed into small bags.

"This one was goin' equipped for something I'd say Sarge" says one of the Meties to the one I presume to be guild leader.

"So it seems" replies Sarge, looking at me coldly.

I glare back, about all I can do with my hands bound and surrounded by the two alliance guilds.

"Off to the station for you sonny, you can take them ears off and contacts out and you've a bit of explaining to do", he nods towards the pile of bags containing my fine weapons. "We can take some prints and see what else you've been up to".

I swear at him in Thalassian as the Meties drag me off and throw me into the back of one of the vehicles. With a Metie either side of me, we head off at speed and on, I presume gloomily, to Stormwind and the Stockades.

An Elf Forsaken among humans.

(Bonus points if you can figure our where Cain has ended up)

Blackness. Trying to move my arm I find it unresponcive, trying to lift my other arm I encounter tha same problem. Through working in the Apothecarium for so long I could sence the poison in my body, its gaseous form attacking my already long gone lungs. Slowly I became aware of something strapped to my face, tightly holding something cold over my mouth and nose, which was pumping the poison into my body. What was this treachery? Someone would pay for it, but first... Listening intently I could hear a steady, contant beeping noise, and voices, human, speaking frantically in common. One voice in particular, the source pacing by my head, muttering to himself. The words I knew only to familier, I had heard them before, all those years ago in the private Quarters of the Apothecarium. Was I dreaming? Remembering my Mentor, Putress? But it all seemed too real, and this time I could feel no straps holding me down, instead I was drugged, poisoned, unable to move my own Body. A feeling I knew all to well. The Feeling of the Grave. Suddenly I knew where I was - I had been captured by the Scourge. Memories rushed back to me, I had been in icecrown citadel, we had forced our way through the now leaderless Scourge to the Laboratory, I had been investigating Profecer Putriciles discoveries... Now I was here. Fighting the grip of the Scourge I tore my eyes open, they had failed to overcome my will the first time, I would be damned before they managed it again. Without my Goggles I was blind, but I heard the screams. Tensing my anctient muscles, I pulled my arm up to my head, grabbing the mask that was strapped to my face, every inch my limbs moved a battle against the Poison that I fortunately had gained a natural resistance to. As I pulled on the mask, the straps strangely streching but not snapping, I could feel a smooth tube traveling up to it, which was pumping the gas through the mask and into my mouth. Roaring, the straps snapped, pinging back and flicking onto my hand, as each hit I could feel a linen like substance, woven, the initial touch Painfull. Pushing myself Up, I could hear the Apothecaries around me running to the door, and, grabbing a large metalic object, that was attacked to the tube on the mask, I threw it at the source of the sound, pained screams breaking the darkess. Feeling something on my chest, I moved my hand to source. Something was pertruding from my body, some form of knife. Pulling it out I ran a hand along the cut it had formed, noticing my clothes had again been removed, and my chest had been sliced open by the blade. Pulling it out I tossed it to the floor whare it clattered down before coming to rest. Leaping off the table, I reached out, and grabbed one of the screamers just as I head the door slam shut and a bolt draw across it. Twisting the screamer around; a human by the feel; I stabbed him with my claws in the eyes, twisting and pulling them right out of his sockets as he screamed. Letting go he dropped to the floor, and I slipped the eyes into my empty sockets. I prefered the goggles, but untill I found them again these organic substitudes had to do.

Blinking, I inspected my surroundings. The Archetecture was very different to the dark greys blues and blacks of icecrown, instead the entire room was white, with the exception of some of the instruments, the metalic table in the centre and the blood stains around the door. Above and around the table was a variety of instruments, most of which even I didn't recognise, as well as a huge bright light and a selection of small knives, scattered across the floor from an upset tray. The curious instruments had large handles, and very small blades, and were each sharpened to perfection. Looking down at where the human sat, cluching his eyes, repeating the same line over and over again, wailing out; "My eyes! He took my eyes!" I felt a pang of pity, and grabbing a knife off the floor leant down and slit his throat, quickly putting him out of his misery. Looking up I saw a huge window, running the entire length of the room, with the exception of the door, the gap filled with a glass that seemed to have some sort of crossed wires in it. Picking up the metalic cylinder, I threw it at the window, but even my collective might simply cracked the glass, removing all visability to the other side due to the huge cracks, but failing to shatter it. Unfortunately in my inspection of the room, I had failed to notice the man hiding behind some of the instruments, and as I turned I felt the force of a mace crashing into my face.