Quaraun the Insane:
Zebulon's Captive:
The Last of The Moon Elves

Quaraun the Insane:
Zebulon's Captive:
The Last of The Moon Elves


Quaraun cried out, partly with fear and partly from pain, as the two big Wild Elves slammed him face first to the ground, then dragged him by his ankles to the center of the room. The Wild Elves were strong and burly and showing off to the several females in the cell with them. Quaraun was the smallest of the Elves, smaller even then any of the females. He was also old and frail and weak. Much older then any of the Elves he was trapped with, aged beyond the natural years of an Elf, Quaraun lacked even what little strength he had once had in his youth. He could no longer see well, nor hear well, and his muscles were worn thin with age. The elderly Moon Elf was thin and weak and not putting up much of a fight as his tormentors attacked him, bullying him, poking and prodding at him, then stripping him naked while holding his face to the floor.

The poor ancient Elf flailed against his attackers, but they laughed at his weak attempts to fight back. After a few moments of dragging him around, scraping him up on the floor, they toss Quaraun over a table.

The poor frightened Elf squealed and kicked, trying to get away. The females snickered, knowing what was about to happen to the old albino.

Rough fingers clamped onto his butt cheeks pulling them apart. At the same time another Elf's fingers pushed their way up into his anus. Quaraun tried to kick his asulters, but someone grabbed his legs and held them down.

He could feel something being forced inside of him, but he couldn't tell what it was. It was too hard to be a dick. Too hard, too cold, too smooth. It felt like metal of glass. A bottle? Or perhaps a pipe? He couldn't tell. He felt the unidentified object go deeper and deeper, sliding back out, before be thrust back in once again. Quaraun howled in pain as the hard object was thrust against his pelvic bone. 

Quaraun yelped each time the Wild Elf's hard cock slammed against his sensitive prostrate.

He could feel the hot semen spraying in spurting jets inside of him. His attacker pulled out, allowing the sticky cum to ooze back out of his ass. Hoping the rape was over, Quaraun tried to relax, but immediately he felt another of the Wild Elves position himself behind him.

The Humans arrived and broke up the gang rape. While the zookeepers tased the attacking Wild Elves, Quaraun hurriedly dressed then dragged himself into the corner farthest away from the others. He was too dizzy to stand and too sore to do anything else. The old wizard collapsed gasping and panting for breath.

When Quaraun woke up again, he found himself alone, in a bed, in small room, in the house, not the barn, not much different from the one he had been in previously, just a lot smaller. The room was a dull unpainted white base coat, with a few random bits of furniture. The bed was a fold up cot, rather then an actual bed. Quaraun's injuries had been bandaged, but he was hurting too much to try to move, so closed his eyes and tried to sleep. When he woke again, there were several Humans in the room, looking down at him and speaking to each other in a language he didn't know. Confused and scared, Quaraun wanted to run away, but there was no place to go. The room had no windows and the only door was closed and blocked by the Humans. He perked his long ears trying to listen to their conversation, hoping he could make out some thing of their language, but it was useless. Their language was too unlike any language he had ever heard before.


Zebulon was there talking with the men who had rescued Quaraun from the Wild Elves. 

"Why do they keep attacking him?" Zebulon roared angrily. "I've never had this problem before. I've been breeding Elves for decades. I've never seen anything thing like this."

"He appears, to not have the Hive Mind, sir," one of the men answered.

"What do you mean he doesn't have the Hive Mind. All Elves have it."

"I don't think this one does. I think that's why they attack him. I think he might be outcast."

"Out cast? Are you telling me I have an out cast Elf in my stock?"

"It looks that way."

"Why wasn't that in his paperwork? It decreases his value. Increases the amount of care. He has to be separated. Put in his own pen. I avoid out cast Elves for this reason."

A doctor, a veterinarian for Elves, was there as well.

"Most outcast Elves," the vet said. "Are outcast for a reason. They're usually murderers."

"The other Elves raped him," one of the men said. "But it wasn't like they were doing it for pleasure... I don't know how to describe it. It was almost like some form of punishment. It ritualistic, what they were doing to him."

"You know, he could be homosexual," the vet said. "I've heard of Elves been cut out if the Hive Mind for that. That would certainly explain rape as a form of punishment."

"The males would rape him for being gay?"

"Oh yeah."

"Would that not make them gay?"

"They don't see it that way. Males fucking other males, they don't seem to have a problem with that. It's a male that won't fuck another male.. the bottom... he's the one they got issues with. And if they had no trouble getting him to submit to them, then you're probably dealing with an Elf that's used to being abused and just backs down to anyone."

"So they rape him, because others did?"

"Yeah. I've seen it happen before. You get an Elf that's scared, timid, or in any way submissive, the other males will just gang up on him and brutalize him. Kind of a hazing ritual. They do it in public in front of the whole community. It's a way to to shame them, publicly humiliate them. It's possible, because he's knew to this community of Elves, they are hazing him, to let the others know to stay away from him."

"But why did they attack him?" Zebulon asked the vet. "It makes no sense."

"Male superiority," one man explained. "Elves are brutally viscous towards each other. Any male gets out of line they'll bully him until he gets in line or until they kill him. Whichever comes first. Elves have a pecking order. The strongest will target the weakest, claim dominance over them. I've seen it happen before. He's small and old. Judging from his clothes he's also an aristocrat."

"I thought the High Elves lorded over the others?" Zebulon asked. He was puzzled by this whole situation.

The other men laughed.

"You've never tried breeding aristocrats before have you?"


"Do you even know why they are nearly extinct?"

"Never looked into it."

"They rarely breed even on their own. They fought each other into extinction. Each male thinking they were better then all the rest. Killed each other off. Then when the Wild Elves started hunting them down, there weren't enough of them left to fight back. It's a wonder any High Elves exist at all these days."

"I thought the High Elves were peaceful?"

"Have you ever even owned a High Elf before?"

"No. He's the first I've had. Common Elves are easier to come by. Blood Elves are a dime a dozen. No one wants to deal with adult Blood Elves brought in from the wild. Babies they can tame, sure. And I've always heard night mare stories of the fights that break out between High Elves and Common Elves, but I thought it was just stories." 

"Was it Common Elves that attacked him?"

"Blood Elves."

"Blood Elves! You have Blood Elves? They're dangerous."

"Yes, but I've never had this problem with them before."

"The aristocrats separate themselves from the others. They live in houses, like we do. They don't live like savages the way the Blood Elves do. They are almost a different species, they act so different from one another. The Common Elves have a tendency to bully the aristocrats. But Blood Elves... you're lucky they didn't tear him apart and eat him. You likely won't be able to breed him to any of the females who saw it happen, either."

"Why not?"

"Females go after the strongest males. From what you said, they took him down so fast, and he wasn't strong enough to fight back. Any female who saw that happen is going to refuse to breed with him. It's the way Elves are. I've seen it before. Of course there's the other problem."

"Which is?"

"Well, if he is an aristocrat,"the vet went on. "And I'm pretty sure he is, he'll likely refuse to breed with any race other then his own. They are stubborn that way. Inbreeding is very common among the pale Northern Elves. He'll likely have to be forced to breed."

"I paid good money for this one. Paid more for him alone then I did for all the rest combined. And now you're telling me we can't breed him?"

"No. Just that it's going to be difficult. It's rare for these Northern Elves to breed in captivity and even left to their own defenses they rarely breed. It's why they are so rare. I'm not saying we can't use him as a breeder, just that you won't be able to just toss him in with a pack of females and expect him to hump them all of his own free will, like a Wild Elf would do. And the other thing is..."

"There's more?"

"Yeah. This one is really old."

"A lot of Elves are old. Hard to find young ones these days."

"No. I mean he's REALLY old. He looks old. Elves don't age. Even old Elves look young. He looks very old, which means he's ancient."


"He's also injured."

"Which is why you are here."

"No. I'm not talking about what the others just did to him. Look."

The vet held up a stack of x-rays.

"He has a lame leg, doesn't he?"

"He walks with a limp, yes."

"He's got weak joints, poor muscles, a bad hip, a lame leg, and looks like he's got some long term spine damage. The x-rays I took of him...his leg is not good. And he's been walking on it like that a while, probably a few decades, for the bone to be worn down like this. He had a broken hip at some point and it never healed."

"Yes. I knew he had a bad leg when I bought him. He can't walk good on his own. He leans on things, holds on to walls."

"He probably needs a cane."

"He had one. The other Elves took it from him and broke it."

"Look at this. The way his hip and pelvis bones are worn down. That's really gonna limit his ability to breed."


"The way those bones are rubbing together, it's a wonder he can even walk at all. It's gonna make breeding painful for him. And it's not just his leg. His spine is damaged. Vertebrae are worn down. Disks are ruptures. His back and hip gotta be hurting pretty bad."

"He didn't act like he was in pain."

"Most Elves won't. They just grit their teeth and keep on going. Ignore the pain. If he were a family pet, I'd be prescribing a lot of pain killers right now."

"So what do I do with him?"

"If it were me, I'd recommend moving him into the house. Give him to your wife for a pet. He'll be happier away from the other Elves, and it'll be easier to monitor his health, get him medicated. Possibly physical therapy to maybe revers the damage to his  joints." 

"I bought him as a breeder, not a house pet."

"I really don't think he's breeder material."

"Do you have any idea how rare a White Elf is?"

"Yes. I do. But an Elf this old, probably doesn't have that much of a sex drive, if he's even still fertile at this age at all."

"So you are saying I can't breed him?"

"No. Just telling you he's gonna be a challenge to breed. And near as I can tell, he's a race that was supposed to have gone extinct some 700 years ago. There were rumors that one male survived and went off into the mountains, became a hermit. I mean, if this is him... he's gotta be close to a thousand years old."

"Is that possible?"

"It's not unheard of, but it's rare that an Elf lives more then 500 years. I mean, I know what they said in his papers, but, sellers are known to lie about a breeder to get the bid higher. You got to wonder how successful he could be as a breeder at that age."

"They assured me that he was tested and had already successfully impregnated 14 females while they had him."

"Well, dealers have been known to lie..."

"I was there," a third man spoke up. "When you bought this one. I remember them saying they had a hard time with him. Said it was why they were selling him. They said his didn't get along with the other Elves. Said they had hard time breeding him. They warned us about that. They said he was fertile but stubborn, that's how he was described in the ad too. "old male Snow Elf: fertile but stubborn."

"No," the first man said. "This is not a Snow Elf. I've seen a few before. This is most diffidently not a Snow Elf."

"You saying I got cheated?" Zebulon boomed angrily.

"No. You probably got a bargain all things considering. How much did you pay for him?"

"I paid for male Snow Elf. Do you know how much they go for these days?"

"How much did you pay for this one?"

"Two million."

"Two million?" A few of the other men stammered and sputtered. "I was thinking like a few thousand. You paid two million dollars for this one? Why?"

"Do you know how rare a Snow Elf is?"

"But this," the vet continued. "This is not a Snow Elf."

"Then what the hell did I buy?"

"You got a black light?"

"Of course we do."

"Bring it in here, If this is what I think he is, you're gonna love this."

A man left and returned with the light. The vet turned the lights of the room off then shined the black light over Quaraun. The Elf shivered in fear, not knowing what was happening.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the vet said.

Quaraun's snow white albino skin, was glowing a brighialt white.

"See?" The vet said. "He glows in the dark. That's not a Snow Elf."

"What the hell is he?" Zebulon asked.

The vet turned the lights back on.

"You got a copy of the History of the Northern Elves?"

"Of course I do."

"Want to bring it here."

The book was brought in moments later. The vet flipped through the book to the section titled: EXTINCT RACES. Then flipped through until he found the page titled: MOON ELVES.

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"Here," he handed the book to Zebulon.

The Humans fell silent for a few moments while Zebulon read the introduction to the passage.

"It says Moon Elves are extinct," Zebulon said.

"It says, they are the whitest of the albino races. That their skin glowed in the dark under the light of a full moon, due to their being semi aquatic and having phosphorus in there skin. And it says, that one survived. If you keep reading, it gives a description of him, states he was a priest of a now defunct religion, and wore very distinctive pink robes covered in heavy embroidery. It goes on to say that there were hundreds of sightings of him through Maritime Canada, and Northern New England, over the next few hundred years. He was supposed to be some sort of wizard or something."


"Well, you know what medieval folks were like. Our scientists would be seen as wizards. The point is, he was known as The Pink Necromancer. And there were hundreds of sightings of him. It's been confirmed by several sources that one Moon Elf did survive, and without his people, he became a wandering hermit. I believe this is that same Elf. He's certainly the right age... and... look at his cloths. They're identical to what is described in the book. We'd have to run more tests, test his DNA against the database..."

"Do you have Moon Elf DNA to compare his with?"

"Oh, yes. Archaeologists found the ruins of the Moon Elf city up in Quebec. Whatever killed them, hit 'em fast. Like Pompeii. Most of the bodies are still intact. Flash frozen, fossilized in ice. Perfectly preserved. I think we should have him tested."

"And what if this is a Moon Elf? What then?"

"Zebulon, do you have any idea how much people would pay for a Moon Elf? Even one that was only half Moon Elf? If you could get him to produce just one baby a year... just one...you'll double you're investment. And if we could find another Northern Elf. A female. A white female like him, to cross breed him with... not only would people pay good money for those babies... but we could interbreed them. Keep the females. Sell the males. Just keep him. Breed him back to the females he produces. Do that three generations deep... you'll have pure blooded Moon Elves again. Or nearly so. Moon Elves are considered to be the oldest race. The purest race. The original Elves. The first Elves that all other Elves came from. And you have one here... alive. This will change history. We can bring a lost race of Elves, back into existence."


Quaraun continued listening to the men as they talked, but he understood nothing they said. He knew they were talking about him. They frightened him, but he didn't know why. They were pointing at books, then pointing at him, and shining strange lights in his face. The one he'd never seen before, was talking very fast and very excitedly. Like a child whom had just found a beloved toy, previously thought to be gone for good. Quaraun did not like how excited and happy this Human had become. It scared him. Humans could not be trusted, and it seemed that the Humans in this dimension were even less trust worthy then the ones back in his own world.

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