~*~Preface ~*~

Our main character for this adventure is a Blood Elf commoner, the likes of which you see decorating random corners in Silvermoon during each of the Major Holidays. The commoners, ungifted in the magical arts and lacking the patience to learn the subtle arts, are as blackballed amongst the Blood Elves as the magically ungifted Night Elves were under Lady Azshara's reign. That is to say, almost completely exiled.

But our hero does not let his lack of patience or inability to learn form his mistakes stop him from enjoying what his hundreds of years of immortality have to offer him! And so begins his biggest adventure yet…

~ The Princess and the Frog ~

It never goes the way you expect it to. Two hundred or more years I've been stealing things from people and never once did I not get caught. I have no idea why I keep doing this. The Humans had a term for it… kleptomania? The irresistible urge to steal things that are perfectly useless – hairbrushes as example – that in no way, shape, form or fashion would one have an excuse to purloin from another.

Except the cheap thrills that is.

My favorite was taking the centerpieces from tables at the Fire Festivals. Though commoners are not invited to the parties, I always managed to sneak in. Sneak being the relative term, of course. I had friends who were quite patient and would hide me in their billowing cloaks or transform me into a mouse and stash me in a handbag.

Ok, so I had one friend who did that. Magister Savran*, a hereditary Magister of title only, had been a close childhood friend. And though we parted ways a long while back as far as friendship goes… he still cant say no to huge pleading green eyes. It disgusts him more than anything; philanthropists are so easily manipulated. Get him a bottle of Suntouched and he'll tell you all about it even – as long s his daughters arnt around.

So there I was at yet another Fire Festival. Though I had no patience to learn the art of sneakery and stealthier as a right and proper rogue, I had sat in the bushes and watched them practice picking pockets on their dummies with bells all from head to foot. Well, till the Mistress found me and threw me out. The woman has a nose like a Night Elf, I swear!

… and it was not because I hadn't bathed in days, no matter what she tells you…

I had two centerpieces under one arm and a third stashed under the other when I ran into the amusing conundrum. I saw a lady Magistrix sitting on a bench in the gardens brushing out her hair. The brush bore an unusual marking, you see; the blue L of Loardaeron on the back. I had to have it for my collection!

The amusing part was not the brush – but the man who was not her husband taking great liberties at running his fingers threw her dark blonde locks. Yes, I know this lady in particular – a Magistrix Carinda. Her husband was out of town this week… which gave her mistress the excuse he needed to push her patience.

Watching her try to brush her hair strait while the man behind her did everything he could to keep it messy proved amusing. She humphed in annoyance sat the brush down and tackled him into the bushes. Though watching her play-scratch his face off was mighty amusing, I perhaps should not have lingered as long on peeping as I did.

She returned from the bushes just in time to see me stashing the brush inside by vest. I had time to think the words "oh" and "crap" before the spell hit me like lightning. The Magistrix was. Not. happy. "I'll teach you to spy on a Magistrix!"

Both hands twisted in the air, drawing forth ancient arcane magic with the signs they formed. The surge of power lifted me in the air, taking my fleeting feet from the ground. I though at first she would simply smash me into the stones and be done with it… but then I felt the transformation occur. I knew about transformation, you see. I had been caught by the Mage-master when I filched his brush for my collection. He shouldn't have bragged about it if he didn't want it stolen – but Tauren bristled brushes really did the best job of bringing out the shine!

"You'll regret the day you stepped foot in this garden, commoner." The Magistrix spat, continuing to channel her spell. In the bushes still her mistress cowered. If he had any idea she was powerful enough to do this, he had no idea. Perhaps he should run while he still had the chance… or perhaps it was why he did not run.

My people are weird like that, you know?

I landed on the ground with the sudden completion of the spell. The Magistrix surveyed her work, green eyes glowing with malice intent, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Your kind belongs in the mud and the much. This will make sure you never stray from where you belong again."

I ran. Well, ran is a funny word. The ground seemed a lot closer than it had before… and it bobbed up and down strangely as I fled threw the bushes. What spell had she cast on me? Was my head on backward? Had she shrunk me?

"But if anyone finds out what you did to him-" Her mistress was saying.

Though I turned back a moment to see if she would undo the spell, the crossed arms and cocked hip said I had no hope. None at all. "Yes, I though of that." She waved a hand dismissively, "But I don't ever want the spell to end. So it will only be broken if that piece of common pond scum … can get a princess to kiss him!"

A most disturbing sound of dismay crept from my throat… I jumped to hear my own voice.

Suddenly there were guards swarming, flashes of duel-bladed swords and shields being thrust at me. There was yelling and bellowing and me running and running and running. Out threw the garden with guards and her laughter chasing behind me. Over the fields, threw the woods and wishing I knew where to go! I must have run a hundred miles before I couldn't run anymore and stopped.

My heart was thundering in my chest, blood rushing so loud I could hear it. And my feet, they hurt. When I glanced down at my feat my heart just about stopped. Flippers: ugly, black scaly flippers. Oh, by the Sunwell-

I'm a murloc!

* Not to be confused with Magistrate Sevren of Pre-Cata Brill's Town Hall.