Karp
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Chapter 110
🕑 Added 2024-11-20 19:31:13 +0000 UTCNote: Changed Rho'dan's “Human” alias to Roy.
As Varrus marched along towards Lorna Crowley's cabin, he made note of the Gilnean soldiers.
Almost every one of them was armed with a flintlock pistol, or musket.
Curiously, he even noticed a few dozen breech loaded rifles, which was a significant tech upgrade from the more commonplace muskets that could be found throughout Human lands.
While this discovery wasn't ground breaking, or seriously threatening considering that wands were the Elven equivalent to guns, it was something worth noting.
Ever since the Orcs invaded, the Humans and the Dwarves were in an arms race to counteract their brutish strength, and foreign magic.
With mages being less than 1 in 10,000 amongst the Humans, and nonexistent amongst Dwarves, the great equalizer was the gun. When Demons, Dragons, Voidlings, and all sorts of threats attacked, the only way for an average Human to survive was to invest in guns!
Swords and spears were nice, but with a population of huge peasants readily available, Varrus could foresee these weapons becoming more and more common.
Breech loaded rifles were impressive to Varrus because of a couple reasons.
One, they had grooved barrels, meaning they could be fired more accurately at longer ranges.
Secondly, they were much faster to reload than muskets. Where muskets required a ball to be prepared in a wad, and then get rammed down the shaft, a breech loaded rifle had the bullet loaded closer to the trigger, like a double barreled shotgun.
As Varrus was musing about the advancing tech tree, he made sure to splash the wounded sailors with healing magic for good measure, and earn himself some bonus points for the upcoming discussion.
He made a show of it, and chanted some nonsense words with a deep timbre to his voice too.
A dozen wounded people stopped their groaning, and stared at Varrus in shock.
Even those who weren't hurt had looks of surprise on their faces.
Varrus quirked an eyebrow.
Had he done too much? He knew that his healing capabilities were awesome, even by Elven standards, but it wasn't like the Highborn didn't have their fair share of priests.
Surely this wasn't anything strange in a fantasy world?
Glancing at Rho'dan for some advice, his chief guard slapped his own face. “Act fatigued.” The red headed man muttered.
Varrus's eyes widened. He totally forgot about that!
In Quel'Thalas, everyone was used to such displays of magic. With the Sunwell being such a cultural icon for thousands of years, it was strange to see someone tired after casting magic. Even after its destruction, they had Mana Stones to subsist off of.
But for Humans, or anyone else for that matter? Mana was a precious resource to be used sparingly, or in moments of great need.
Varrus's casual use of magic went against the norms.
However, this could only help serve his goals to appear in a more friendly light.
Plastering a sickly look on his face, Varrus stood in a hunch, and leaned onto Syra for support.
His wife rolled her eyes at him, yet she held him tight. Perhaps too tight. It seemed she did not care for the close contact he had with Lorna a moment ago!
Varrus leaned into her tight embrace, and let her drive the air out of him to sell the image of an enfeebled man.
“You are a priest as well?” Lady Crowley paused in her stride, and turned to Varrus with a look of curiosity.
“I dabble in the Light.” Varrus chuckled.
“I was rude to you earlier, I'm sorry for that. What you did for me was important. But more important than saving my life, you saved the lives of many men. Thank you Lord Vanhook, from all of us!” Lorna nodded her head in appreciation at Varrus, then half bowed at him.
“Northgate, salute our savior, salute the fallen!” Lorna raised her voice to the crew.
“Salute!” A few dozen sailors raised their guns to the air, and fired off into the cool morning sea.
“Now please, I would like to get to know both you, and Lady Vanhook better within my quarters.” Lorna gestured, and took the lead once more, but this time, she was going all out to appear friendly and congenial.
Varrus chuckled, but felt the grip on his side grow even tighter.
“O-oi, Rho'dan, a little help?” Varrus said in jest to his guard.
“Unhand the Highlord. You know he is simply playing politics.” Rho'dan said with steel in his voice.
Varrus felt like the atmosphere went frigid for a moment.
“Please come inside, I have some coffee beans, straight from Stranglethorn Vale!” Lorna called out to them from her cabin.
“Ah ha ha, yes, let us go.” Varrus pulled himself out of Syra's death grip, and gave Rho'dan a ‘what the hell?’ look, then dragged her along by the hand.
“I shall protect you from out here. Enjoy yourself, my Lord.” Rho'dan sternly bowed with great seriousness, then closed the cabin door behind them.
Varrus wanted to question Syra about that odd interaction, but before he could, Lorna had placed three cups of steaming hot coffee down in front of them.
Looking around the cramped quarters, Varrus saw maps, charts, a hastily made bed, and a pile of dirty clothes stuffed in a wardrobe.
“A loyal man, that guard of yours. Keep him close, because you never know when they'll be gone in the line of duty.” Lorna stared at her beverage with a forlorn look upon her face.
“Rho, ahem, Roy has been with me since I was a boy, he's a good man. But what really keeps me going in this cruel world is my wife. Without her, I never would have survived the Scourge outbreak.” Varrus smiled, and patted Syra on the hand as he took a seat.
Syra rolled her eyes, clearly aware of Varrus's sweet words, but she seemed happy to go along with his act, and silently sat by his side.
Varrus subtly nodded in appreciation at her understanding. He knew she had little desire to speak when other people were around due to some deep seated childhood traumas, and respected her need for silence.
“How fortunate that you two love one another. I was betrothed to Prince Greymane, but with the disagreement between our fathers, it was not meant to be.” Lorna bitterly stared off into the ceiling at the end of her statement.
Varrus raised an eyebrow. What was this, a Romeo and Juliet plot line?
However, instead of the lovers dying, perhaps he could kill off the warring parents, and leave the children of both sides in his debt? He was still searching for a replacement to lead Gilneas, one subject to his whims, and this could be a tentative ‘Plan A.’
“A tragedy to be sure, Lady Crowley. Perhaps I could send a message to the Prince when I go to Gilneas City.” Varrus suggested.
“You shouldn't!” Lorna harshly rebuked, but upon seeing Varrus's stone-like expression, she quickly amended herself.
“I mean, the Royalists will likely shoot on sight, assuming you are either a rebel, or a plague carrier. Anyone not flying their colors is persona non grata.” Lorna explained.
“That is all risk I am willing to take, after all, while I hold close ties with the Elves, I am a man of Gilneas at heart, and wish to explore both sides of this issue before deciding if I should get involved.” Varrus crossed his arms.
“...that is a most gracious offer, Lord Vanhook, I thank you for carrying a letter for me. But enough of me, you claimed that the Highborn have driven the Scourge from their lands, is this true?” Lorna leaned forward in curiosity.
“Tis true. Whilst visiting their fair lands for trade, we witnessed the might of their Heroes and army. It was truly spectacular. However, for all their power, the Elves are few in number. They asked their distant kin to search for allies.” Varrus half bowed, and raised his mug of coffee before taking a sip.
‘Bitter!’ Varrus failed to mask his expression, and pursed his lips at the strong taste.
Syra chuckled beside him, and took a big swig herself. A satisfied look appeared on her face.
‘Ah, so she enjoys bitter flavors, she? From all the sweet foods she bakes for me, I thought she also had a sweet tooth. Hm, maybe her flavor profile was influenced by the time she was forced to survive in the forest against the Amani as a little girl?’ Varrus thought to himself as he glanced at his loving wife.
Syra poked him in the side, and nodded towards Crowley. Evidently she had been saying something, but it had gone completely over his head.
“Hm, sorry Lady Crowley, could you say that again?” Varrus said with a roguish grin.
“Haah, the up-tight religious zealots of Lordaeron would be scowling if they saw such impropriety. You are a lucky couple.” Lorna shook her head, and took another sip of her coffee.
“As I was saying, what would the Elves want with Gilneas? They were the first to leave the Alliance, claiming Human idiocy led to the Orcs invading Eversong and burning down their woods. Then under the King's orders, we foolishly left the Alliance within days of that happening. We are not exactly the closest of peoples.” Lorna shook her head, and looked at Varrus in confusion.
“Well for one, you're no Undead, and secondly, you're easily reachable via boat. Most of Lordaeron is a cesspool of rot, and from my understanding, the Elves would rather fight the Undead together, than alone.” Varrus explained.
“Then you should join the Northgate Rebellion! King Greymane wants nothing more than to sit on his throne, and do nothing! We, on the other hand, want to help our fellow Humans, and end this blight!” Lorna spoke with passion.
Varrus could see the light of revolution burning in her eyes from that statement. She was an idealistic, well meaning youth.
He admired that trait, especially the well meaning part. People could be so nasty sometimes, and cruel for no reason. It was refreshing to see a noble who wasn't caught up in pomp and fashion.
However, would someone so idealistic be willing to stay under Elven leadership?
Varrus didn't know, and that uncertainty was giving him some strong reservations.
Perhaps ‘Plan A’ could take a back seat for now as he continued to shop around for a Gilnean leader. But that didn't mean he couldn't be friendly with the young lady.
“I appreciate the invitation, but again, I must decline for the moment. Until I see the state of things with my own eyes, I will reserve my judgment.”
“Oh, well, as is your right. You will find my father to be very accommodating. Much more so than that stuffy fossil we call a King.” Lorna pouted.
Varrus thought the expression on her face was quite cute. If he wasn't a married man, perhaps Lady Crowley would have a new suitor, but alas, he was taken.
Feeling a pinch on his side, Varrus dropped the smile, and decided to get down to business before he departed.
“Ahem. In any case, the Elves have graciously provided arms and provisions for the people of Gilneas in their time of need. It is within my discretion to whom these goods shall be distributed to, and I deem you worthy of such a gift.” Varrus stated in a grand manner.
“The Elves are known for their isolated nature, is this true?” Lorna skeptically looked Varrus in the eye.
“Fresh fruit, grain, and masterworked iron arms and armor. All gifted in the name of peace and friendship.” Varrus couldn't help but grin.
“Come, I'll show you.” Varrus stood from his seat, and beckoned.
After walking between ships, and entering the Golden Loom's hold, Varrus popped open a couple of the chests, and revealed the goods.
“I accept this gracious gift, however, are you certain there is nothing I can give in return? Although gold is scarce with the outbreak of this war, I am sure my father could-”
“Say no more, this is a gift. However, if you would do me a favor, could you satisfy my curiosity, Lady Crowley?” Varrus gently closed a chest, and glanced at her.
“You have been mostly generous, Lord Vanhook. Ask away.” Lorna replied with a smile.
“Where did you acquire such a marvelous handgun?” Varrus asked.
He had been impressed with the invention, as it seemed capable of threatening even Elites!
“Oh, this? My father commissioned many weapons from the Dwarves of Iron Forge. They included this as a thank you for such a large order. From what the merchant said, it is an experimental technology, but one that is gaining traction with the help of Gnomish engineers.” Lorna held out the glowing gun filled with runes, and offered it to Varrus.
Taking hold of it, Varrus was reminded of the plasma pistols from 40k, or perhaps more accurately, the blaster pistols from Star Wars. It was pretty cool to hold something so sci-fi in a fantasy world.
But this pistol was just a fraction of Gnomish + Dwarven technology. They had helicopters, long range artillery, and teleportation pads. In retrospect, something like this wasn't very surprising when the Draenai were literally space faring aliens, and other insane levels of tech already existed in-universe.
Hell, the guns that hunters used in WoW were probably just as, if not more outlandish than this pistol.
Shrugging his shoulders, Varrus let the surprise leave him. If tanks, helicopters, heavy artillery, and flamethrowers were Canon, then a rune pistol was the least surprising item on that list.
“If you like it, it's yours.” Lorna spoke up, interrupting Varrus's thoughts.
Looking up, Varrus saw that she didn't really want to give up the gun, but he wasn't going to say no to this.
If he could get Telonicus to reverse engineer the pistol, or make an Elven version of it, then that would be great.
Varrus intended to recruit entire kingdoms to his coalition. If he could equip low skill peasants with guns like these, then they would stand a fighting chance the next time the Burning Legion, or other existential crisis made itself known.
“Thank you for the gift. Let this exchange commemorate our friendship.” Varrus took the pistol, and placed it within a pocket within his robe.
“Safe travels to you, Lord Vanhook. I have funeral rites to attend too, then I must report to my father. Please keep my offer in mind. Northgate would appreciate your support.” Lorna slightly bowed her head, then departed the hold.
Several members of her crew shuffled in, and began to haul chests away.
Varrus paid them no mind as he held Syra close. Once they had left, and there was no one but Varrus and Syra within the hold, he leaned close to whisper to her.
“Patience my love, she is of no threat to you. I meant what I said back there. Without you, I would be lost to the Scourge. I will always cherish what you have given me.” Varrus leaned close, and tried to kiss her on the lips, only to meet the palm of her hand.
“Not while you look like that, it feels like cheating.” Syra glanced at Varrus with a hint of ire in her voice.
Varrus withheld a sigh, it would be nice to make love to the Human persona Syra had disguised herself as, but he could see her point.
In fact, he admired her resolve to keep their relationship pure.
“You are right, of course. I was merely testing you.” Varrus flashed a roguish grin.
“This is why I have to watch you around other women. I know you weren't really a playboy, but that attitude of yours enures women to your charm. And I won't have it. You're mine, Varrus, and only mine.” Syra tugged Varrus close, and clunked her forehead on his, then walked off.
Rubbing his neck, Varrus blew out a breath full of hot air.
Damn that women knew how to get him hot and bothered!
Kicking the floorboard, Varrus put his hands in his pockets, and whistled a merry tune as he walked out to the top of the deck.
“Trouble, my Lord?” Rho'dan questioned as Varrus emerged from the lower decks.
“Nothing I can't handle my friend. Now, let's set sail for Gilneas City.” Varrus ordered.
“We are not stopping at Keel Harbor then?” Rho'dan questioned.
“Nah, I got what I wanted. Meeting with Lord Crowley would just be a waste of time.” Varrus put his hands behind his head, and looked out to the endless sea of fog in boredom.
“You intend to replace the father with the daughter?”
“Maybe. She's pretty headstrong, I want to shop around a bit.”
“Hmm, well if I may offer a suggestion, perhaps you could look to Greymane's daughter as a figurehead.” Rho'dan suggested.
“I wasn't aware you were so intune with Gilnean politics, Rho'dan. Why the daughter, and not the son?” Varrus questioned with genuine curiosity.
“As your father's servant, I have eyes on many channels of information. And why the daughter? Let's just say that she has a particular condition that Greymane would rather keep private.” Rho'dan mirthlessly grinned.
“Is she a Worgen?” Varrus asked, somewhat surprised, but not shocked in the least.
Greymane, after all, ended up infected with the magical disease himself, and tried to hide it from his ministers in the original timeline.
“Not quite. Her constitution has made her grow close to the Void. Very few are privy to this information, and I suspect Lady Vandercross could prove to be a suitable mentor for the one you wish to place upon the throne.”
“Hmmm, I'll keep that in mind. It is a good ‘Plan B.’ Thanks Rho'dan, I don't know what I'd do without you.” Varrus smiled, and clapped the taller man on the shoulder.
“It's what I do. Now if you'll excuse me, I must correct our course, and chart out the path to Gilnean City” Rho'dan bowed, then turned to complete his task.
Varrus sighed as he watched his closest confidant go about his business.
Rho'dan protected his back, interrogated his enemies, ran a spy network, knew how to sail a boat, and probably had a thousand other skills Varrus was unaware of.
Lorna was right, he should cherish his time together with Rho'dan. Because if he died, Varrus would feel like he lost a limb, and gone blind in one eye.
Nodding his head, Varrus decided he would have to try and get adamantium ASAP. The sooner he could clad Syra and Rho'dan in that absolutely OP material, then the greater his peace of mind.
He may be a one man army, but without his friends and loved ones, it would be extremely lonely at the top.
Releasing a sigh filled with pent up emotions, Varrus reassured himself as to why he fought in this crazy war, and why he was willing to commit basically what amounted to war crimes for the sake of security.
“It's all for my family.” Varrus muttered, as he imagined him and Syra holding onto a beautiful baby girl or boy.
Clinging tightly to the railing, Varrus looked out into the fog, and resolved himself to win over Gilneas, no matter the cost.
Comments
Kasikan
Hope once he can recreate that gun, he gives Lorna a shipment of them to replace that one. It'd be a nice way to consolidate closer ties and thank her for such a helpful gift.
