AN: Hey guys! So this is my first fanfiction that I have ever wrote, so please be critical. I am mainly using this as a tool to help my writing skills and vent a particularly vicious plot bunny I have had in my head for ages inspired by World of Whatcraft by Umodin, Battle for Azeroth, and patch 7.3.5.
Disclaimer: If I owned Warcraft, the Burning of Teldrassil would be actually morally grey
During this time, I did not know what was happening.
The world itself around me consisted of darkness and strange sounds. It seemed like time itself was a jumbled mess, never having clarity, nore structure. If this I thought was the afterlife, it absolutely sucked. Things however got clearer over time, with time itself being more consistent and the sounds becoming less distorted. Staying awake however proved a challenge as in this state, consciousness was a fleeting thing and never staying around long enough for cohesive thought.
Then after what felt like aeons, the world was filled with a bright white light and excruciating pain. I heard screaming but couldn't identify who's it was.
Maybe it was me.
All around me colours began to filter in, replacing the darkness and blinding light I had seen before. Things stayed like this for months with the world being a blurred mess of colours, until the world slowly came into focus. As I awoke, there was a giant lady with platinum-blonde hair, pointy ears, and bright blue eyes above me. I was immediately able to identify her for what she was.
An Elf. What the hell?
Elves were works of fiction. Simply not real on Earth, yet here in front of me was a giant elf smiling down upon me. Alongside her was an enormous man with long red hair who, judging by the ears at least in fact was a human.
Someone has normal ears at least...
Taking in my surroundings, I quickly found out that I was in a crib. A grown man in a crib, surrounded by a giant she-elf and a giant ginger. I just laid there staring at the two, trying to make the dirtiest scowl I possibly could, and all that did was cause me to drool all over myself. This action of mine elicited laughter from the Ginger and cooing from the She-Elf. I began trying to speak to them, but found it was horribly challenging. Trying to speak was a lot harder than it was normally, and the sounds I did make made no sense. It was just garbled mutterings that annoyed me to no end.
Perhaps they drugged me.
After a few moments, the She-Elf stood up showing her beautiful figure that many humans would die for and left with the Ginger. Once they the room, my struggle to escape confinement commenced. However it proved to be a more daunting task than first realized, as all I could do was lazily lol my head from side to side, with great effort I might add. During my many futile attempts to escape, my ears felt sturdier. Pointy.
They were not overly long, but they definitely were pointy.
Wait. What?
This revelation floored me. Last time I checked my ears were most definitely NOT pointy. I kept lolling my head side to side to continue "feeling" my ears to the best of my ability to make sure this wasn't some sort of fevered dream.
The Ginger and She-Elf seem to be at least amiable from what I can tell, and my ears are pointy… Does this make me a Half-Elf? Are Ginger and She-Elf partners? Does this make me their child? As soon as I clued into this, I was completely shocked. How the hell did I end up in the body of a baby? Then it hit me.
No really, it did. Dying by getting hit by a car sucks, especially when you were on the sidewalk minding your own business. I was 22 years old, and finally able to have full control over my life and get a good job after graduating college, to get away from my parents and I died. I died from a person who was stupid and probably drunk. A death caused by someone else's mistake. At this moment I did the only thing I could do to vent my anger at the unfairness of it all. I shit myself and screamed bloody murder.
When She-Elf came rushing into the room with a worried expression, I felt only a bit of satisfaction. But it was a source of satisfaction nonetheless.
Damn right.
Months went by quickly and as my anger subsided, it was replaced by unadulterated curiosity. I was a Half-Elf, and my mother was an Elf. I was in what others called a "fantasy world" as I have already seen magical oddities around the place we live in. I simply wondered if it was a generic insert fantasy world here or one I was familiar with, such as Middle-Earth, Alagaesia, or the Forgotten Realms.
My questions were answered when I learnt my name however.
In my previous life, one of my greatest passions was Warcraft. It was used as an escape for me when life got rough and my parents were assholes. That meant I had a wealth of knowledge about the world, which turns out to be a boon in this situation. See video games weren't a waste of time. Hah take that dad. So when I heard my name being spoke, I was shocked.
Arator Windrunner. Or Arator the Redeemer. A name very familiar to me and one that answered a lot of my questions.
I was Arator Windrunner, nephew to Sylvanas, Vereesa, and Rhonin. Born during the Second War to legendary heroes of the Alliance, Alleria and Turalyon. The very same parents that left me to go fight the Burning Legion. This meant that once again in my new life, the set of parents I have are less than satisfactory. That aside, I was determined to make them proud and live for something. My family is one of heroes and I want to be the greatest hero of them all. To prove myself not only to them but to myself as I want a legacy of my own. I will not die as just another name. Not again. Never again.
I want to be known as a hero first and child of Alleria and Turalyon second. To do this though, I would need power. Power that at the moment I sorely lack. Even if I did follow my canon counterparts path, I will never be strong enough. I must be stronger. I will be stronger. As strong as the Heroes of Warcraft such as Thrall, Tirion Fordring, and Broxigar the Red. Each of these heroes wielded great powers over the Elements and the Light. However Broxigar, didn't have that. He only had the Axe of Cenarius, a powerful weapon gifted to him by the demigod Cenarius. A weapon of that calibre would be a boon, regardless of the path to power I so chose.
Luckily enough, Azeroth was a world with magical artifacts in abundance. Hell, an entire expansion was based off of obtaining these artifact weapons and powering them up to face the Burning Legion. If I was to obtain one and hone my skills, I could become a force beyond reckoning. A hero of great renown, a hero that is greater than even my parents. Azeroth in the coming years will face many great trials, such as the Lich King and Deathwing and will need as much help as it can possibly get.
With the thought of artifact weapons, pandora's box was then opened. How would I obtain an artifact weapon? What powers do I want? Where would I go? What artifact weapon would I want to wield? Can I even pull this off? Could this drive history to a completely different course?
One thing I do not want to mess with is the Infinite Dragonflight, as that will cause a lot of issues in my formative years. Most likely my death. Which, is a very big issue thank you very much.
With all this thought I yawned. The lull of unconsciousness growing stronger by the second until I lose the battle and fall asleep. Man being an infant sucks.
AN: Thank you for reading, and please review with as much critique as possible thank you very much. Tell me how much you like this plot bunny and if you think it has potential have no idea how long it will be but I will have lots of fun writing this (if I so choose to continue).
However Battle for Azeroth may take up a lot of my time the rest of August and early September, because guild commitments, organization, and overall leveling a lotta characters. As well as school and IRL on top of things.