Karp
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Chapter 156
🕑 Added 2025-01-24 19:59:13 +0000 UTCOpening the door to the dungeon, Varrus felt a tug on his sleeve. The silent little girl looked up at him with big bright eyes.
“You can see me, little one?” Varrus asked curiously.
Syra-thin as a rake-nodded her head, and pointed towards a very suspiciously dark spot along the wall.
Varrus didn't know how he hadn't noticed it before, but feelings of cold, and mystery radiated from that spot.
The child-Syra-took him by the hand, and tugged him towards it.
Varrus felt some apprehension, but was curious as to what this was. Was it an enemy, some conjuration of Xavius's? Would its destruction free her of his malignant curse?
As he approached the mass of shadow, a crimson eyeball appeared.
Stilling in his steps, Varrus almost blasted the thing with fire. Even if it didn't work against the illusory Faedra earlier, didn't mean he wasn't willing to try it against other things.
Before he decided what action to take, a familiar, otherworldly voice greeted him.
“Ah, a Dragonborn. It is curious to find one such as you in such a place.”
“And you are the guardian of the unseen, and knower of the unknown. What are you doing in my wife's dream, Hermaeus Mora?” Varrus wearily questioned.
“Aren't you the intriguing one? It makes one ponder. But ah, if you know who I am, then you know that such information comes with a price.” Hermaeus spoke in a slow cadence, almost as if he were talking his thoughts out loud.
“Hermy and I are playing hide and go seek. He lost a bet, and has to be my friend. Do you want to be my friend too?” Syra cracked a smile up at Varrus.
“I am already your friend. I am Varrus.” Varrus smiled down at the girl, and ruffled her hair.
At the same time, Varrus used this action to mask his shock. What the hell kind of wager did they have, and how was Syra-dream or not-so comfortable around a Daedric Prince?!
Granted, this must not be more than a percent of that God-tier being, but still! Dude was literally a ball of shadow with an eye! He straight up looked like the main antagonist out of Full Metal Alchemist!
“Oh, please join us in our game! Hermy is fun to play with, but he likes to talk too much.” Syra beamed her eyes up at Varrus.
Looking down at the beaten, bruised, chained up girl, Varrus found he couldn't say no.
Besides, while he wanted to use Clairvoyance to find Xavius, this dream world seemed to hold little logic. Who was to say he would find the Satry through such a cut and dry method?
If anything, working with this child Syra might just be her defense mechanism, and could lead him to his hated foe.
On top of that, this was an opportunity to converse with a Daedric Prince. That wasn't something that happened every day!
“Very well, I'll play along.” Varrus acquiesced.
“Yay!” Syra clapped her hands, and then reached over, and snapped the chains bunding her in place with mana enhanced fists.
Varrus's ears twitched at the sound of the metal tearing. Yep, this was his wife all right. Even as a child, that gorilla strength was no joke!
“I suppose I have no say in this matter. Very well, Syra. Go ahead and hide, we shall search everywhere for you.” Hermaeus said in an exasperated tone.
Yet based on the cadence, it almost seemed like Hermaeus was-dare he say-acting like a doting uncle?!
“Okay, count to 100, then come find me!” Syra looked at Varrus and Hermaeus, then ran out of the room with a giggle.
Varrus took this time to examine the dungeon cell they were in, and found enchanted rods that induced pain/pleasure that could be found in his own family dungeon.
Finding he could interact with them, but not place them into his inventory, Varrus raised an eyebrow. Discreetly pocketing one, he turned to see the eyeball clad.
Hermaeus was staring at him without blinking.
Varrus stared back, refusing to be intimidated.
“Well, aren't you going to start counting?” Hermaeus questioned.
Varrus rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of an eldritch eyeball God doing something as ridiculous as hide and seek, but somehow it wasn't the weirdest thing to have happened to him in this second life.
“1, 2, 3…98, 99, 100”
“”Excelsior. Come along now Dragonborn.” Hermaeus floated towards the door and took the lead.
“I have a name, you know.” Varrus said as he followed behind.
“Is it really Varrus Vandercross?” The floating eye asked in a casual, conversational tone.
“Given your title, I assume you would like to know?” Varrus asked, well aware of Hermaeus’s obsession with hoarding knowledge.
The eyeball stopped where it was, and turned to look at Varrus as if he were a simpleton.
“Say it.” Varrus grinned.
If they were to ply one another with questions, Varrus had to establish some ground rules. Otherwise, he could find himself used by the Daedric Prince, and have nothing to show for it.
“Yes, I am interested.” Hermaeus's shadow body bobbed up and down, as if he were nodding his head.
“It wasn't, but it is now.” Varrus replied.
Now that over half a year had passed, Varrus had come to completely accept this new identity. Whilst he still had love for his family and very close friends on Earth, he had assimilated with this new world. Like an immigrant moving to a new country, he adopted Warcraft's norms and customs.
Most importantly, he had a future here with a loving, obsessive wife, a silly best friend, a robust guard, and a strong mother.
He was Varrus Vandercross.
“How curious indeed. It makes one wonder what happened to the original Varrus, or if you were him all along. If I dissected you, and searched your soul, I wonder what such results would yield?” Hermaeus casually eyed Varrus up and down as if he were no more than a cut of beef to be butchered.
Varrus almost faltered in his step. No matter how powerful he had become, he didn't necessarily want to land on a Daedric Prince's radar. But this conversation was happening whether he liked it or not.
Without missing a beat, Varrus asked his question.
“What are you doing in my wife's dream?”
“What a dull question. The child told you already. We are playing hide & go seek.” The eyeball replied, and phased through the door that was the exit to the dungeon.
Frowning to himself, Varrus opened the door, only to see that he was in a forest.
All around him were trees, and the vibrant sounds of nature.
Hermaeus was nowhere to be seen.
Pulling out Clairvoyance, Varrus tried to find either Syra, or Hermaeus, yet the blue line would start, only to stop a foot away from him.
Looking around, Varrus saw smoke on the horizon, and started to move towards the sight of habitation.
As he drew closer, his nose wrinkled as he recognized a peculiar scent.
It was blood.
Coming across a burnt out village, Varrus saw the mutilated and desecrated remains of decapitated Elves. It was clear that many of them had been sodomized before their deaths. A handful of Troll corpses rested nearby, showcasing who the perpetrators were.
Sighing to himself, Varrus had seen so many tragic sights like this, he no longer wretched at similar scenes, but he did feel pity for the victims.
In fact, he could hear their screams on the wind. Varrus wondered how young Syra was when she witnessed this heinous crime.
It was to prevent such things from ever happening to his people again that he took such drastic actions.
Pushing through the destruction, and picking up a discarded doll, Varrus heard the sound of insane, childish laughter coming from ahead.
Running into the forest, Varrus saw a slightly older, child-Syra gouging out an adult Troll's eyes. She used his own dagger to slash his throat, and practically bathed in his blood.
Varrus clenched a hand over his heart, and felt that same dagger dangling over his chest as a necklace. It was the weapon she earned her first kill with, the bound item she had handed to him so that when they fought together in stealth, they would always know where each other's position.
Just now, the shocked relief, tears, and blood covering Syra made him feel ill.
“Syra.” Varrus held out his hand for her, but the wild child ran away.
He tried to Blink after her, but found himself only 10ft forward. It would seem that non-Illusion attuned magic was severely nerfed in this dream within a dream.
“You didn't try hard enough to catch her. A pity.” The shadowed eyeball, Hermaeus tutted from the side.
Floating down from the eaves of a tree, the Daedric Prince had seen it all.
Varrus ignored the Prince, and moved in the direction Syra had run off in.
Following a forest trail, Varrus emerged from out of the trees, and found himself on a brightly lit stage.
Covering his eyes from the blinding lights, a series of boos, and hisses greeted his ears.
“Get off the stage!”
“Such banal, cliché storytelling has never before befouled the drama halls of Silvermoon. Begone with you, spawn of Vandercross!” A cultured voice demanded.
Squinting his eyes, Varrus saw his critic getting his arm snapped by Rho'dan, and getting carried out of the venue by his trusted guards.
The boos and hisses decreased, but the aura of hostility was still strong among the crowd.
That is, all but one member in the audience were openly jeering.
Sitting in the shadows was the diminutive frame of a teenage slip of a girl.
Her full attention was on him.
Varrus, feeling as if he had to sing to her, noticed a few instruments on the stage beside him, and an idea began to hatch in his mind.
Having experience in enchanting instruments, Varrus got to work.
A slow, steady, almost melancholic beat began to play. He didn't know the lyrics to many songs, but this one felt right.
He sang the song ‘My Way’ by Frank Sinatra. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jmqb7_QuTXA)
As the words flowed through him, and the stringed instruments thrummed their subtle bass, Varrus recalled all the things that made him love and laugh at Syra. He took all that emotion, and poured them into his words.
Looking back, he couldn't believe how crazy their relationship was. The first time he saw Syra, he was chained to a bed! She had threatened to kill her own mother, and was oh so scared that even the stiffest breeze would knock him over!
Then, he watched in awe as she tore through the Scourge horde like a wrecking ball. That beautiful, golden woman always turned back to make sure he was okay. Her duel against the Death Knight, Adonis had been incredible. To top it all off, she had practically jumped his bones after dominating the enemy.
She didn't care about things like troop morale, or working as a team, she knew what she wanted, and she got it.
Syra, oh Syra, his adorable little murder machine had then told him she wanted twelve, TWELVE children!
To simulate this, she took to the orphans like a mother duck. So caring, so tender, she even proved a good teacher for Tess.
So considerate, so kind, she always had a new flower to show off to Varrus.
She was his sword when he lobbed magic from afar, his confidant when the tragedy got to him, and his closest companion.
Looking down at her in the crowd, Varrus felt his heart swell as he reached the crescendo of the song.
“For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels
And not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my waaaay!”
Closing his eyes, Varrus let the instruments reach their peak, then stared Syra in the eyes as he uttered the last line of the song.
“Yes. It was my way.”
