Waking up in the Exodar was a strange experience. Being underground, but unlike the Undercity. The ceilings were high, the chambers well-lit. Very little of the surroundings were unfamiliar and yet comforting.
Guards greeted him as one of their own, shopkeeps sold their goods unaware of the truth.
Even this person didn’t fully remember. A necessary precaution in the spellcraft, to prevent prying minds from unraveling his secrets. Another five years under the guise before Silvermoon would ever be called home.
Five years as Draenei.
As he sat down in the nearest Inn, opting to drown his confusion in several pints of the strongest drink, he encountered a sharp pinching pain.
Yes. The tail would take some getting used to.