Karp
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Chapter 133
🕑 Added 2024-12-23 19:45:54 +0000 UTCSitting on a patch of grass next to the Sunwell, and holding Syra's hand, Varrus was relieved to have done away with the Bronze Dragonflight, and gotten himself healed.
Whilst he had a few perks that would have restored him, having his wounds placed in a time loop was one of the most dastardly things he had experienced since transmigrating to the World of Warcraft.
Thankfully, this victory came with a big bonus. Not only did he acquire the souls of 8 true Dragons, but he also acquired Murozond’s, which was worth 6 souls in his Skyrim UI.
If he wanted to, Varrus could fully learn 2 new shouts, and start another one at the moment.
Furthermore, he also acquired a new, permanent status condition.
[Aspect of Time: Phase yourself into an alternate reality for 10 seconds. Time based magic is easier to understand, and your past is immune from being erased in the timeline.]
This new status had Varrus salivating. For one, time magic was one of the most powerful forms of magic imagined by man.
Secondly, by becoming the Aspect of Time, this had Varrus speculate that he could absorb all the other titles. Meaning, he could potentially become the Aspect of: Magic, Life, Dreams, and Earth.
Considering Maligos intended to start a war in Northrend against all magic users sometime within the next 6 years, perhaps Varrus would be able to test that theory sometime in the future.
However, he had to focus on the here and now.
While he was sitting with Syra, there were two developments taking place in front of them.
In one instance, Nightsong had punched her way out of the time cocoon, and had started slicing the flaming cheese wheels in half. The ancient General was hard at work closing the mini tears in reality.
Or as Varrus had grimly come to realize, were holes to the Shivering Islands, aka, Oblivion.
This was a grim realization, because this meant he wasn't solely in the realm of Warcraft. With the Daedric Princes, and presumably the Aedric deities involved, Azeroth was sure to be in more turmoil than it already was.
From the sound of Nozdormu's villainous monologue, his mother, Nightsong, was a servant, or creation of Akatosh. Specifically, he called her Akatosh's daughter.
In Skyrim, and all Elder Scrolls games, Akatosh was considered by many to be the strongest Aedra, and had directly created the Dragons and the Dragonborn.
From Varrus's perspective, he wondered if Nozdormu meant Nightsong was a creation, like a person building a lego set and being proud of their creation, or was Nightsong like the child of Akatosh in the traditional sense?
Furthermore, was she a Dragon, or a Dragonborn? Because from the Bronze's dialogue, it almost sounded to Varrus that he used his mothers name as a title. He alluded to Nightsong resetting the plane?
‘Is my mom the equivalent of Anduin "the World Eater” for Azeroth?’ Varrus thought to himself in shocked realization.
Widening his eyes, Varrus looked up to his mother using unique shouts he hadn't heard in Skyrim to close the portals to Oblivion.
She stood toe to toe with a demigod, and was only caught in a bind once Murozond had absorbed Nozdormu's energy.
It truly made Varrus wonder just how strong his mother was, now that she had cured her undeath, and was connected to the Sunwell.
‘Well, at least she's on my side, and isn't competition for Syra.’ Varrus merrily thought to himself, and squeezed his wife's hand.
Syra squeezed back, and nuzzled her cheek into his shoulder. At the same time, however, she angrily jabbed a finger at his chest. Her finger poked on the spot where his robe was completely torn, and the Dragon claw had pierced him.
She glared up at him like a kitten denied its milk.
“Hey, we won't, didn't we?” Varrus shrugged his shoulders.
“You worry me, Varrus. How many times will we get lucky until our luck runs out?” Syra huffed.
Varrus sighed. He didn't want to think of that. Even great men like Ceasar or Alexander accomplished the impossible, only to have their amazing runs cut short.
The only thing Varrus could do was to strengthen himself, his wife, and his allies until they were so strong, they didn't have to rely on luck and close calls.
“The power of the Sunwell will see us prosper, my Star. With its power, we will become great.” Varrus said with conviction.
Syra flicked Varrus on the nose, then turned to the only other thing going on in the Sunwell: the fight between father and son, the fight between Grom and Garrosh Hellscream.
Interestingly, they did not disappear with Nozdormu or Murozond's passing. Unlike in kids cartoons, the ‘bad guy's’ army didn't magically disappear when they died.
They had been dragged to this timeline, it would take another spell to send them back.
Which meant the Elves were still fighting with the Horde and Alliance forces! Varrus was going to look at his scrying orb, and scout around, when Syra brought his attention back to the Orcs.
“What are we going to do with them?” Syra questioned.
Varrus lowered his orb, and rubbed his chin as he paused to consider her words.
A few ideas sprang to mind when he saw the two exhausted Orcs battling one another. Their weakened state had Varrus consider his options.
For one, he could let this duel come to its natural conclusion. He could then swoop in, and claim a pair of Grand Soul Gems.
With the 300% boost to any spell or magic Varrus cast granted by the Sunwell, this was an extremely tantalizing offer.
Varrus theorized that an entire set of buffed Grand Soul enchantments might uplift any Heroic tier person up to the realm of legends. That they would become as strong as a demigod!
In short, this was his optimal path.
However, there was one other option that was worth considering.
He had a spell under the Illusion tree, one he was planning on using on Garithos.
It was Enslave the Weak.
Enslave the Weak: Forces a hostile humanoid below 20% Health to serve your will permanently until slain. (limited per 200 base mana)
It was an incredibly powerful spell, but much like his summons under the Conjuration tree, the amount of people he could affect with this spell was limited by his base mana.
As it stood, he had a little over 1,200 mana, and could use this spell on 6 different people at once.
By mentally dominating these two Orcs, Varrus could use the powerful Heroes in the upcoming war against the Scourge.
But perhaps even more significantly, he could send them to Kalimdor, and take over the Horde from within.
By turning the Horde into a puppet state, he would have much to gain.
There were a few hiccups to this plan, however. Such as the pair of Heroic Orcs. Who was to say Thrall or Jaina couldn't recognize and remove the compulsion? Or perhaps Grom used his rage and somehow got so angry, he broke free of his binds?
If any of that happened, then he would have made a major enemy out of the Horde.
Besides that, Grom was the guy who first supped on the Demon, Mannoroth's blood, and had broken free of his control. He was also the Orc who gathered Draenei to be used as live sacrifices to open the Dark Portal, and burned Stormwind to the ground, butchering countless innocent Humans in the process.
This pair of father and son, as ‘honorable’ as they were, had mountains of corpses behind them.
Varrus had been party to a lot of horrible things. Even considering mind control was a scummy idea. But he hadn't done half of what Gron did, or what Garrosh would do.
Shaking his head, Varrus didn't know which path to pick, and decided to wait for them to weaken one another further before deciding.
Meanwhile, he checked the scrying orb to see how the rest of the Elven forces were holding out.
With the buff of the Sunwell, Varrus saw that they were absolutely walloping the invaders.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the southern front ruined tanks littered the battlefield, and the torn banners of the Alliance fluttered in the wind.
Countless corpses of Dwarves and Humans littered the ground. The Elves of Quel'Thalas treated the restoration of the Sunwell as the number one national priority. No quarter had been given to those who aimed to destroy their ticket to mana sustainability, and immortality.
Only the horses of the knights had been spared. The Rangers soothed the mounts of their fear, and reigned them in to be used at another time.
Amongst the wreckage, a few of the Towers of Jenga, alongside Dwarven copters, and bi-wing planes were smashed to pieces all around the island.
Smoke and flame wafted across the fields of Quel'Danas as the Elves burnt stacks of bodies so that they would never have the opportunity to be raised as Undead.
Among the expressionless corpses, Aegwynn, mother to Medivh, and former Guardian was staring up into the sky with glazed eyes.
With the boost of the Sunwell, and their numerical superiority, the Elves had contained the Alliance forces, and slaughtered them to a man.
Only a small pocket of resistance was holding out, but we're constantly being harassed by the new Grand Magister, Alistair Bloodsworn, and by Sky Marshal Koren.
Their combined magic and aerial supremacy saw the Alliance forces dwindle bit by bit. It would only be a matter of time before they were completely annihilated.
Meanwhile, Kael and Jan'alai had teamed up to fight against a future version of Jaina, and had pushed the Human mage to her very limits.
The group had battled all across the sky, and torn the earth asunder as they clashed.
However, with the Sunwell active, Kael had a bottomless pit of energy to draw upon. Furthermore, he also had a connection to it like Varrus, and so long as he was within a certain radius, all of his magic was buffed by a 300% margin.
In short, even if Jaina had more power than her younger self, she was no match for the empowered King of Quel'Thalas!
“Give up, Jaina. A cold cell is the best I can promise considering our past friendship.” Kael coldly demanded as he pointed the flaming blade of Felo'melorn at her neck.
The middle aged sorceress had blood dripping down the corner of her chin, and exhaustion haunted her eyes. Yet the will to go on burned deeply in her eyes.
“It never would have worked between us, Kael. Leave your sick, twisted fantasies to yourself.” Jaina defiantly rebutted, and began to cast a spell.
An ice barrier began to form between the two of them as Jaina tried to protect herself. At the same time, a hypnotic resonance was admitted from the ice, and directly struck at Kael's mind. At the same time, a portal began to form behind her leading to who knew where.
“Kieer!” Al'ar cried out, and broke the hold on his mind.
Kael thrust his sword down, but was halted by the ice block just enough so that Jaina could escape into the portal.
“This isn't over, Your Majesty. The true timeline will be restored. I'll make sure of that.” Jaina icily glared at him, then rolled back towards her portal.
“You talk too much.” Jan'alai harshly rebuked as she dropped down from the sky, and smashed Jaina's head into pulp with a swing of her oversized club.
“Excellent timing, Jan'ala-”
“You talk too much.” Jan'alai gripped Kael by the scruff of his robe, and pulled him in for a deep, tongue twisting kiss.
Kael's eyes widened, and he flailed his arms as the breath was drawn from him.
Jan'alai winked at him, then roughly pushed him back.
“Like the mace? Figured if my bestie had a giant sword, I should get something that was even bigger! It's cool, right?” Jan'alai twirled the massive weapon around as if it weighed nothing, then rested it on her shoulder as if they hadn't just fought a difficult foe.
“Erm, ahem. Yes, it is very cool. But we must reinforce the others. The northern front is still fighting a powerful Orc shaman, they require our assistance!” Kael embarrassedly shifted in place, and was quick to mount Al'ar.
“Oi, don't you run from me, Goldilocks!” Jan'alai waved her giant club at him.
“It's a tactical repositioning! Try and keep up, Green Beak!” Kael taunted, and took to the skies.
Jan'alai grinned at her lover. She would never grow tired of teasing the fair haired man.
Transforming into her dragonhawk form, she chased after him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the other southern front, where King Terenas and the adventurers had pushed forward in an attempt to stop the Sunwell's restoration, it was a massacre.
Thanks to the script Rho'dan had read aloud, half the Champions of Azeroth had turned on one another, leading to a blood bath.
This left Terenas open for attack. Rho'dan alongside the other 3 members of the Crossguard, and the Illidari Council brought their superior numbers to bear, and curbstomped the Heroic paladin.
The King that once led the Alliance was all wrapped up in chains and wore magically suppressant manacles.
His face was battered and bruised, and the white sheen of bone could be seen peeking out of his broken legs in the midday sun.
“Let me guess, someone stole your sweet roll?” One of the Crossguard mocked as he lifted Terenas by his hair, then shoved his head into the mud.
“I was once brave like you, then I took a-” Another member of the Crossguard began, only to get shoved back by Rho'dan.
“Okay, you lot have had your fun. He needs to be alive, so that the Highlord can have his soul. Do not damage him any further.” Rho'dan sternly warned the other Elves.
The remaining Heroes of House Vandercross looked at Rho'dan in disappointment.
“You can still have your fun.” Rho'dan gestured towards the still fighting adventurers.
The other members of the Crossguard and Illodari council smirked at one another, then set about bringing pain and suffering to the adventurers.
Rho'dan sighed, and ran a hand through his long red hair.
Managing these murderers was a hassle, but it was all for House Vandercross. His Lord had fulfilled his promise, and delivered on the outrageous claim that he could restore the Sunwell.
Glancing at the injured prisoner by his side, Rho'dan deemed today to be a success.
Pulling out his scrying orb, he messaged Varrus that all was well on his end. He then began to issue orders, and scroll through updates from his scouts and spies.
Furrowing his brows, it seemed that some important developments were taking place on the continent.
It seemed that a battalion of their distant kin, the Night Elves had made landfall on the Eastern Kingdoms sometime in the last week. And he was only now learning about it.
Not only that, but the Naga were seen directing a Demonic Night Elf into Dalaran.
He would have to inform the Highlord once things here had been wrapped up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While all this was going on, a white haired, bearded old man in a purple robe, and his balding middle aged servant dressed in a fine black suit were observing the events transpiring on Quel'Danas as if it were entertainment.
They were the Prince of Madness, Sheogorath, and his ever faithful steward, Haskill.
Sitting on a throne in a large empty hall, Sheo had his hand on his chin, and an expression of boredom was on his face.
‘I don't think they're taking this seriously, Haskill! Dozens of tiny gates to Oblivion are scattered overhead, and they're treating me like a joke! I mean, we're talking about cheese here, cheese! The stuff doesn't come cheap ya know. And they're just ignoring it!” Sheogorath ranted.
“They simply do not understand my Lord's gifts. Perhaps the Gatekeeper would teach them a lesson in manners." Haskill suggested in a dry tone.
"No, no, that would be too predictable. I need something with more bite, more menace! Like marmalade, or peanut butter!" Sheogorath waved his hands expressively.
"Shall I?" Haskill arched an eyebrow.
"Yes, Haskill my faithful companion, make me a pb&j, and oh, I suppose we could send the Gatekeeper." Sheogorath demanded, and then said the later half of his sentence as an afterthought.
"Very good sir." Haskill bowed before teleporting away.
When the butler left, Sheo poked at a portal in front of him, and swirled his finger.
A moment later, one of the Shivering Islands greatest defenders, the Gatekeeper was plopped out directly on top of Varrus and Syra.
The 10ft tall Gatekeeper was naked save for a loincloth, had a blade for one arm, and had no eyes.
“It's perfect!” Sheogorath slapped his arm rest in pride.
"Your sandwich, sir." Haskill ported back, and handed the food over on a silver tray.
"Oh good. I can't wait to see the look on their faces when they realize my creation is magic immune!" Sheo chuckled to himself.
"Will you be needing anything else, my Lord?" Haskill enquired.
"No, no, let us watch the show!” Sheo leaned back in his throne, and took a juicy bite out of his pb&j sandwich.
Comments
Ryan Helmbold
God kael has fantastic taste, tall muscly tomboys are top tier
Kasikan
Or a railgun. Pretty easy to use magic to propel a sword or mace at terminal velocity that way. Or lasers with light magic working like a super powered magnifying glass.
Conor McGroarty
Magic immune? Guess MC needs to make a big rock and then launch it at terminal velocity
Kasikan
First he kills the dragons. Next he kills the Daedra. Then the old god void creatures. Then what Titans or Aedra? I mean I like all of the above in my kill list for a world like that.
Erostan
Thanks for the chapter, happy holidays!🔥🎉
