Manhattan, one month ago.

Marcus Yewbark, an elf solider, awoke with a start, where was?  He got up off the dirty wooden floor, holding his throbbing head and looked around, he appeared to be in a human warehouse of some kind.  Marcus then checked for any broken bones or other injuries, he found a gash on his left shoulder, so the elf let his magic flow into the wound, it was surrounded with white energy then closed.  He then looked if any humans had spotted him, no, there was no one here.  So he sat down, trying to recall what had happened, let's see he was looking for a witch cabal member, then as he was on the docks, he had heard a noise behind him, then darkness.  Marcus' thinking was interrupted by a gun barrel to his temple, he looked up, and to his surprise, another elf was at the other end of the 9mm.

"Surprised, Marcus?  I certainly hope so, it is not every day one sees an elf with a human weapon."  The strange elf said, cocking the hammer on his gun.  Marcus said nothing, but reached for his sword, but all he found was an empty sheath.  The crazed, gunslinging elf laughed;         

"You shall not harm me, elf, mundane or magic for it is hard to cut someone when you have no sword, and hard to hinder with magic when you have to much iron in your silver veins."

"Who are you?  And where are we?"  Marcus asked the obvious question.

"Never you mind that, I just need a favor from you.  If you don't mind."  Chuckled the stranger.
"I will never help you, reject."  Marcus spat at the stranger.
The mad elf sighed.

"Fine I will kill you, then wait for the next fairy to come looking for the"witch cabal", then get him to tell Alder Turnleaf a friend is coming home."  He pulled the trigger.