A/N:

"" Dialogue

'' Thoughts

Text in Italics will also be used to denote words/phrases in other languages

Disclaimer: I own nothing about the franchises depicted in this story. All rights belong to either Blizzard Entertainment and J.K. Rowling.

"Sentinel, report!" The general asked groggily, it wasn't every day that something happened that requires her to travel to the other side of the world.

At least not without some kind of previous notice.

The younger elf ignored her superior's mood and proceeded to relate the other day's events.

"My unit was one of those tasked to escort the druids three requested by the Banshee Queen"

Shandris decided to ignore the biting tone and the use of that title by the sentinel. Although technically a deserved one, it certainly was not one would throw willy-nilly on diplomatic assignments.

"Each unit was responsible for the safety of one druid, along with a detachment of… Forsaken each, split to cover a wider area. Even though tensions were high between our groups, nothing of notice happened for the past two weeks."

And wasn't that incredibly unexpected, first Silvanas Windrunner herself asking for help, and that of Kaldorei nonetheless! That somehow both undead and night elves were capable of interact with each other (not to say cooperate) without either group resorting to violence was just another miracle.

"Two days ago, all the groups gathered in front of Shadowfang Keep, the druids (and some of the Forsaken) believed that there must have been something in there that could either explain the presence of Worgen in here or control the… transformations"

And there was the crux of the matter. Shandris could understand Windrunner, having a pack of feral Worgen so close to her people was certainly a horrifying prospect. She could still remember the Druids of the Pack, their savagery when they succumbed to their hatred, the way Malfurion banished them into the Emerald Dream… although it seems some of them managed to escape…

"We were making our way through the keep. Unlike our previous intelligence, we found it deserted. There were signs of something or someone living there recently, however.

We spent most of the day searching for anything that would help the druids' research, only to turn empty handed.

As it began to turn dark, it decided that it would be better if we set camp near the entrance to continue searching the next day. It was when we were at the courtyard that it happened."

'Finally…' Shandris almost grunted out. As unprecedented (and somewhat amazing) as this cross-species cooperation effort was turning out to be, it still didn't explain just why she was pulled from her outpost on Feralas just as she was sending an adventurer party to scout out the naga.

"A human man, a mage we believe, just… blinked into existence right in front of the assembled group, no portal, nothing, nothing that would indicate (as far as I'm aware) any known form of magic. And he was there. Before anyone could react, he gestured with his arm in our direction and… summoned? one of our druids to him."

'That sounds like a mage alright… And a human one to boot, still it does not explain why I was asked specifically to come here.' Shandris was getting somewhat irked. "So, a mage appeared and kidnapped one of the druids?" the question coming out with a bit more bite than intended, the subject of arcane magics still being a sore point for most of the remaining night elves.

The sentinel shuffled a bit "Not exactly… for all intents and purposes, it seems the mage engaged the druid in a conversation and, despite the presence of a couple dozen near them, none of us could hear what they were speaking about… It was as if a field of magic was erected around them, we could only hear a soft buzzing not unlike that of insects.

It must have been 15 or 20 minutes before their conversation ended, the buzzing field dissipated as the mage was taking a miniaturized flask from a belt pouch, enlarging it and then giving it to the druid… "

"Do we know the contents of the flask?" Shandris quickly interrupted. Sure, potions and elixirs were not uncommon to the average civilian, most of them were rather benign in nature or had mostly positive effects to the imbiber. She could not, however, just wave away the possibility of a poison… or worse…

Seemingly recognizing her line of thought the sentinel shook her head.

"The druid told us the mage was convinced the elixir was capable of aiding the Wargs in keeping their minds during and after the transformation, further testing with some feral… volunteers confirmed his assertions. The concoction seems to soothe the individual's mind, allowing them a great degree of control and preventing them from falling into the beast's rage." The sentinel dutifully explained "Some of our druids believe that with time, even the most feral of Wargs can eventually regain their non-beast consciousness, making them no different than the other druids."

"Afterwards the mage produced a list of herbs and reagents he said were used in the making of the elixir, as well as the instructions for it. We asked some of the… Forsaken alchemists only to find out that that particular brew is, seemingly, completely new. We still have to ask one of our alchemists to see if that's truly the case but, so far, it seems so.

The mage then addressed the rest of the group, asking (in no uncertain terms) that he would like to speak either with the High Priestess and the Banshee Queen or with their second-in-command, whoever they might be. He said he would leave the meeting's planning to us, citing he still had much work to do and, and I'm quoting, "I can't be buggered enough to deal with your inter-species-masked-as-politics drama while there's a whole freaking planet to save."

When asked for a way to contact him he just smirked, said "I'll know when you want to speak to me" and blinked out of existence… although I think I managed to hear him muttering unflattering things about Goblins just as he was leaving."

'Riiiight' Shandris fought hard not to roll her eyes at the mage's statement. At least she now knew why she was called there, all the way from Feralas. Even though talking with the High Priestess -Minn'do she corrected in her mind- was technically not a difficult feat for most of the Alliance members (and some neutral envoys from the Horde) given the accessibility of the Night-Elf leader inside the Temple of the Moon in Teldrassil, setting up a meeting with her and Windrunner on a neutral location with an unknown third party was a completely different can of worms that she wasn't sure she was willing to open.

And thus, the second-in-command became relevant (although even if that title should have been applied to Archdruid Fandral Staghelm, she was nevertheless closer to the actual ruler of their race, more accurately representing her position).

Still, there was something about the whole situation that didn't sit quite right with her, after all, having been living through several millennia fighting against a plethora of different enemies and surviving, she definitely learnt to rely on her instincts and gut-feeling.

"Alright. Just to be sure, when you say he blinked in and out of existence…."

The sentinel considered the question for a few seconds "He just… appeared there, no warning, no sound, no weird after-image that mages usually leave when they actually… well… blink. One second he wasn't there and the next one he was. There was also no indication whatsoever that he used any kind of magic, the… taint that usually remains for a while after arcane magicks are used was completely absent."

Shandris really wanted to return to Feralas as she sighed "So, as far as we know we have an unknown human mage that appeared inside an otherwise inexplicably empty Keep, spoke with one of our druids, giving us a viable?" the sentinel asked her commander's question with a simple nod "Right, a viable way to treat those afflicted by the beast's rage 'which could also be used to control those that surrendered to their bloodlust…' and then tasked the Forsaken-Kaldorei contingent there to set a meeting with their respective leaders.

For no discernible reason at all.

Right before disappearing to parts unknown with no way to contact him.

And that's why I was called all the way from Feralas.

Is that all?"

To the sentinel's credit, she gave her a deadpan look and curtly nodded once. "Yes."

Shandris now huffed "At ease sister… Asha'falah1."

'I really should have stayed in Feralas…'

The world was a mess.

Correction. The world was a BIG fucking mess.

He was honestly surprised the world was even habitable, given what he had learned so far.

It wasn't pretty. It wasn't even close to pretty.

At all.

Out of the top of his head he could list the following:

Undead.

A myriad of races that fought each other at the slightest provocation or for no reason whatsoever, some of them practically ageless.

Ancient constructs that operated under some of the vaguest instructions he had ever heard.

A fucking vortex in the middle of the fucking planet spewing out so many magical energies he was surprised there even were normal (as in not-capable-of-using-magic) aquatic species around.

Some weird dimensional portals scattered all across the world that led to a dimensional plane that seemed to be a 'copy' of the current world (albeit a much, much wilder version of it. And eerily tinged in a greenish hue).

"Civilized" Undead (which amused him to no end, being both the most inclusive -un-death tends to bring all races together- and more racist -hate of all living things could only classify as such- races out there).

Demons.

Big. Fucking. Sentient. Dragons. Way bigger and smarter than he was used to deal with.

Cultists (or fanatics, depending on who you asked) curiously entrenched in both "light", neutral and "dark" "religions".

Different pantheons of gods that apparently do exist and interfere in "mortal" affairs in a day-to-day basis.

Has he mentioned the un-fucking-dead yet?

And to top it all off, eldritch beings (or at least one that he was fully aware of) that wouldn't be out of place in one of Lovecraft's horror stories.

And that was the crux of the matter, really. Either the fucking universe (multiverse? He wasn't sure at all at that point) had a weird sense of humor an everything was a stupidly big coincidence OR there was someone… something out there moving the strings. After all, it wasn't as if the old one he knew of had an eerily similar name to one of those mentioned in the Mythos.

Right?

He really, REALLY hated Jules Verne.2

If there was something he disliked more than anything was being stringed along for an undisclosed purpose without giving him any kind of say-so.

In the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter.

Still, raised his heckles a bit (a LOT).

For now, he would do what he always found himself doing. Saving the fucking day. His aggrievances could wait for later (he inwardly swore righteous retribution if-WHEN he found out the 'architect' of his "destiny", fucking meddlesome beings).

Anyways, moving on. In retrospect, helping the native Were population (for he could only assume they were at least close to the werewolves he knew) seemed like such an insignificant task compared to the plethora of things the world needed ASAP.

He even heard rumors the other day about someone trying to activate a so-called "Dark Portal", whatever the hell that was.

Oh, he knew he still lacked a lot of information regarding his new 'home'. There was just so much he was capable of learning on his own, even if he managed to create a couple of nifty spells capable of eavesdropping on a given target (he made a mental note to actually name them, just using a blanket term to refer to them like 'listening charms' seemed a bit… uninspired).

He needed allies, and he needed them yesterday.

That brings us back to the Were situation. Sure, he could have established contact with any of the other species out there (although he was deeply distrustful of the green-skinned orcs. They got nothing on his almost rage at the goblins, though).

He shook his head ruefully "Of course there would be goblins… They have Elves, Dark Elves, talking cows, harpies, centaurs, Humans, UNDEAD, Dwarves, smaller dwarves, Orcs, skinny orcs (that sported some wild hairstyles and that, for some reason, spoke with a Caribbean accent), fucking-centaurs and many, MANY more. Of course, there had to be fucking goblins." He thought to himself. How they managed to be worse than his usual brand of goblins, he didn't know.

More cosmic fuckery at its finest, surely.

He hadn't even been there for a month, for fuck's sake!

Which was why he desperately needed someone on his corner. Now, could he have done things differently? Sure, from what he now knew, him being a human would help in establishing contact with at least one of the major factions out there (and he couldn't say he wasn't intrigued by those dark elves).

It honestly was a stroke of luck to stumble upon that little undead-elvish operation, from what he understood both races belonged to opposing factions yet it seemed like the Were was such a concern for the local non-living that their leader (reluctantly) requested help from a couple of the dark elves' druids, who obviously had to be escorted by a detachment of what seemed to be warrior-hunters?

He really had to get up to speed with the new world if he was to help in any meaningful way.

The fact that he had a handy treatment for the Were condition helped. A lot. It only took him a day or two to modify the potion's recipe and adapt it to the local flora and fauna.

Thanks magically-enriched planet. You rock. It really isn't' a hard job when literally every stalk of grass and (from what he could see) pretty much all the wild life have some sort of magical property in them.

As far as first contact scenarios go, he was quite proud of what he achieved, stalking the group for a bit to know what their aim was, rummaging around some of his chests to see if he had any potion available, re-doing said potions recipe with local ingredients and testing the newly developed potion on some -ahem- willing specimens.

The only hinderance he faced (nothing more than a minor delay, really) was when he scouted out the fortress the group had just marked as their next destination. Having already decided to help them out with the potion, he figured why not?

And of course. Undead. What was with this world and the undead? He will never know. At least he was certain they were not the friendly (?) kind of undead, or at least he hoped they weren't, it's kind of hard to figure it out when both kinds want to stab the life out of you. Anyway, that fortress had every kind of undead he could imagine: Ghosts, geists, ghouls, bloated inferi, skeletons (for some reason they made him giddy) and even horse ghosts!

Not like they put up much of a fight, only the ghosts worried him for a bit, once he realized they were somewhat tangible, he capitalized on it. Of course, if physical means failed, he could have always resorted to more arcane or even esoteric methods.

He was startled when he found out coins and other miscellaneous stuff on their remains (that he quickly scooped and stored in flasks, who knows when some magically infused ectoplasm could come in handy), though, maybe some sort of physical tether to the mortal plane? Questions for another day.

He stayed out of sight, amused as the unlikely group explored the keep, obviously expecting a fight only to find it devoid of life (ha!).

His subsequent appearing act and (forceful) debrief of the overall situation to a totally-not-randomly-picked druid went even better than expected, at least there were no projectiles or spells flying in his direction.

Of course, he hung around after disappearing, whilst the bit about him not being bothered to directly contact the factions' leaders was technically true, the part about saving the planet was a tad overexaggerated. In truth making allies was his main concern.

And so, he decided on a direct(?) approach and proceeded to stalk the most recent Dark Elf arrival. From the way the other elves deferred to her he could only guess she was high up there in their command structure.

Neat.

'I'm sure I could still go back to my outpost… Surely mother wouldn't mind much meeting with whoever the Forsaken choose to send… still…' Shandris was lost in her thoughts while walking to her (temporary) quarters at Shadowfang Keep.

Even if she could understand the need of her being there that didn't make the task any bit more pleasant… the entirety of Silverpine was gloomy, eerie and creepy. Undead, murlocs, gnolls, worgen and (more disturbingly) banshees could be found in the once verdant forest.

"Stupid legion and their stupid Lich King desecrating our sisters… one day…" She muttered angrily as she paced around her tent.

Being a Night Elf meant being in close contact with nature, respecting nature's whims, accepting and embracing death when one's mortal time on Azeroth was over because, at the end of the day, it was all part of a cycle.

Undeath being the ultimate opposite to nature's way.

The taint of the undead that currently permeated Silverpine was enough to make many a Night Elf feeling sick just by being there, just one of the many reasons any kind of diplomacy between the Kaldorei and the Forsaken was thought of as a ridiculous idea.

Curious that, even if her kin were physically repulsed by the undead, it was a group of humans the ones that were actually actively pushing towards their eradication, even if their efforts bordered on zealotry.

Granted, not all undead were mindless beasts that only wanted to ravage and gore the living, the recent cross-faction cooperation was a fine example that the Forsaken wanted to distance themselves from their more savage cousins and could at least show some semblance of professionalism when working with living beings towards a common goal.

Still, she would not go to sleep with her guard down. She suspected that, at some level, all of the undead carried an unexplainable hatred for the living… or was it jealousy? Nevertheless, for her at least, the only truly 'safe' undead was a dead(?) undead.

Bottom line, she was uncomfortable, annoyed and starting to get a headache just thinking on the upcoming meeting.

"And all because of that… mage" a slight hint of disgust could be heard on that particular word "and his demands" she sneered at the entrance of the tent before softening her gaze "Although, from what the sentinel said, he cleared the keep from whatever was living here… and he gave out that elixir and its recipe, only asking for a meeting…" sighing softly she made for the small cot (thank Elune the tent was large enough to allow for one of those).

"I just wish he left a way to contact- "

One thing worth mentioning about the Night Elves is that, just as their long ears indicate, they have a highly developed sense of hearing, which, although perfectly good for detecting the minutest of sounds being made a fair distance away, has some disadvantages when trying to point exactly at where the sound comes from. In relatively close distance, however, they can hear pretty much everything and pinpoint the precise location of it.

It comes to no surprise, then, when she was able to hear a muttered voice coming from somewhere near the tent flaps.

Inside the tent.

Now, at the best of times, Night Elves are not a violent race. They live by a "live and let live" policy (unless you happen to be a Satyr… or an Orc… or a Troll… or a Demon… you get the idea), that by no means translates to them being helpless at any rate. Millennia of fighting and surviving, coupled with the seeming agelessness of their race, ensured that most of them became proficient, if not in outright fighting, at least defending themselves.

Thus, the Sentinel General immediately jumped into action. With inhuman (heh) speed she nocked an arrow on her trusty bow and aimed at the source of the sound, if anyone wanted to ambush her inside her tent where they thought she would be an easier target, they would be proven wrong.

1 I was looking for a particular Darnassian way to say 'goodbye', found in the wiki and other pages both Enshu-falah-nah, as an elven goodbye said by Illidan and Asha'falah, only quoted as an 'elven goodbye' I opted to pick the shortest of the two.

2 "Anything one man can imagine; other men can make real" from Around the World in Eighty Days.

AN: So this is it guys, my newest work. I'm honestly intrigued as to where this one will take us.

On that note, if anyone wishes to spend a few hours discussing lore and/or beta'ing this work in particular, contact me :D

Please feel free to review, all critique is deeply appreciated.

AN 2: How do you feel about the footnotes? I just felt like they were necessary to further expand on my worldbuilding.

If you like what you are reading and you want to support my work, look at my profile for a way to contribute.