Karp
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Chapter 92
🕑 Added 2024-10-25 19:46:51 +0000 UTC(30 min before Varrus arrives behind Tenris)
The trek from Tranquillien to the border region where Eversong and the Ghostlands met was an awkward affair for Varrus.
Combine the revelation of Nightsong being his mother with the fact that he was the son of Vandercross, and the damned smug Elves turned into a walking, talking gossip machine.
He wished he could teleport his army to the battlefield so he could ignore the constant chatter. Were these Highborne more interested in discussing the upcoming battle, or even the heroics and close calls of the siege? Were they interested in catching up with one another after surviving the harrowing Scourge invasion, or realizing that their friend is ‘alive’ as a Darkfallen?
Nope!
They were busy discussing how scandalous it was that the First Seat, and the most famous general in Quel'Thalas hooked up and had a child together.
Varrus wanted to slam his forehead into something. His peoples priorities were seriously fucked when drama was more important than strategy.
Even the engineering nerd, Telonicus was getting into it! Drawing schematics, and calculating the odds of Varrus's conception!
To top it all off, Nightsong was hovering 5ft behind him and Syra. She wasn't saying anything, and was just staring at him.
When he asked her what she was doing, she replied that she was making up for lost time, and observing him to see what he liked, disliked, and to see how Vandercross had raised him.
Heck, she even had a notebook on hand! Varrus had caught a few glimpses of the contents, and he saw a few remarkably detailed drawings of himself inside.
It felt a little creepy at first, but when he saw a drawing of Nightsong, Vandercross, and a little boy held between them, he could only sigh, and let the woman have her moment.
The world was cruel, and he wouldn't begrudge someone clinging to the past like that. Varrus had already experienced plenty of loss, so he sympathized with her. From her perspective, it must be like she awoke from a coma, only to discover her husband is dead, and her son is a grown man.
Such a thought was, quite frankly, terrifying. So whilst he felt her behavior was strange, he couldn't haye her, and begrudgingly accepted it.
Syra on the other hand, was a wild concoction of emotions. With Faedra around, and Nightsong seemingly giving her the cold shoulder, she was extra clingy.
Varrus hadn't felt such pressure on his arm since he first transmigrated! He could only thank the Light that he put points into Stamina, and HP, toughening himself up. Because his twig-like Elven physique would snap if she put any more pressure on him!
Rho'dan was no help, of course, and seemed to defer to Nightsong in everything. Blasted traitor.
Then there was Koren and the rest going starstruck over Nightsong, all the while, Faedra was gaslighting everything in sight.
It was a truly outrageous, and painful march to reinforce the Sunfury.
“Before we reach the enemy, do you have any advice, or strategy to defeat Tenris?” Varrus turned to Nightsong, and questioned.
“He is a survivor at heart, and played the various Scourge commanders against one another by feigning incompetence. I expect him to flee upon our arrival.” Nightsong explained, looking up from her notebook from time to time to glance at Varrus, then etch something with her quill.
“Tenris always was one prone to outbursts in court. However, he had many supporters. One does not remain beholden to rage for centuries, and maintain a cohesive political block. Your mother is correct, son-in-law~.” Faedra said in a teasing tone of voice.
Varrus didn't see it, but he felt Nightsong and Faedra share a glance. His eye twitched at the exchange.
Deciding he would avoid that particular brand of feminine drama, Varrus pressed forward with the info they had presented.
“So what you're saying is that we shouldn't ruffle his feathers if we want to get close. But how do we do that? Nightsong, could you message him via scrying orb?” Varrus asked.
“We did not share contact information.” Nightsong replied, then showed Varrus a picture of Faedra on her knees crying whilst Nightsong and Vandercross were kissing under a tree.
“Ah.” Varrus verbalized, almost letting out a laugh.
Nightsong gently smiled, and put a finger to her lips, like a naughty child sharing some secret.
Varrus rolled his eyes. Was this the mature, and illustrious general feared throughout Quel'Thalas? He swore, this new mother of his was giving off recently graduated school teacher vibes. Acting mature for everyone else, yet a little giddy when around the people she was close to.
Honestly, Varrus found this behavior to be a little adorable. However, it was a sobering thought that she pretty much trounced him in a 1v1. Why were all the women in his life such terrifyingly strong brutes?!
Side-eyeing Syra for a moment, she must've felt something, because she turned at that exact moment, and caught him staring. She flashed a smile, and drew him close for a kiss.
“Ahem, why don't we act like the Highborn are prisoners when we approach?” Varrus posited.
“A good idea, Highlord. We could hide our weapons inside mageweave bags, to better sell the image of a conquered enemy.” Rho'dan suggested from the side.
“Hmm, yes, it could work. My dearest daughter could even act as bait. The Crown Prince did have quite the fixation with her.” Faedra arched an eyebrow, and appraised Syra's figure appreciatively.
“The three of us could go on a stealth mission, and take Tenris out from the rear, and General Nightsong could act as the frontline instead!” Syra posited a counter offer.
Varrus, Faedra, and Nightsong all glanced at her, then at one another.
Varrus slowly smiled, then rubbed her on the top of her head.
“No can do, Tenris rides a Dragon mount, if we want him to come within striking distance, not only should we use you as bait, but we should threaten to kill you too!” Varrus proudly exclaimed as he explained his plan.
“It does have a certain, femme fatale charm. I approve.” Faedra examined her nails, then eyed the dagger sheathed on her hip with a smirk gracing her lips.
“Then it's settled.” Nightsong agreed.
Syra pouted at Varrus, seemingly disappointed that they didn't get to go on another stealth adventure.
“Relax, you were so angry with that Tenris guy, equating him to a slime, right?” Varrus whispered in Syra's ear, and gently ran his fingers against her scalp.
Syra shivered under his ministrations, and had a funny look on her face as his touch was slightly ticklish.
“Forget pretending to threaten your life. Instead, we can put on a show, one that demonstrates our love and loyalty for one another in front of all of Quel'Thalas. Then, when Tenris comes near, you can have his heart in the palm of your hands, just like he always wanted~.” Varrus explained in a hushed, then finished with a shark-like grin.
Syra's expression became more excited the longer Varrus talked. When he spoke of murder, that's when he knew he had her.
She pulled him close for a two handed hug, and rested her head under his chin. Her hair was slightly ticklish, but Varrus didn't mind.
After sharing her warmth, Syra held her hands up to him, like a kid that wanted ‘up.’
Varrus rolled his eyes, then pulled her into a princess carry.
A brilliant smile flashed across her face, and Varrus found himself matching it. He pressed his nose to hers, and held her eyes as they marched forth.
He couldn't wait to see Tenris's face when the love of his life was in the arms of Silvermoon's most notorious playboy!
~~~~~~
Tenris was on edge. He hadn't received any reports from either the west, or eastern flanking forces.
The Dreadlord was defeated, and the gambit in which he sacked the center for future gains was not paying off.
Drumming his fingers across a horn on his mount’s back, Tenris considered going all out, in an attempt to draw the enemy's attention even further, and grant his flanking forces more time to break through.
However, he quickly discounted that notion as foolishness. If he got locked down, or over extended, then he would truly be doomed.
As it stood, if he didn't see a change in his favor within the next 15 minutes, he would have his only remaining Elites-the archmages-create a portal, and escape back to Deatholme. He still had over 60,000 Undead on hand, and could make a comeback.
As much as it irked him to run back to his mother, he would rather be a living disgrace, than a deceased delinquent! He could always resume his siege of Tranquillien, but with the Sunfury hot on his heels, he'd rather cut his losses, and leave General Nightsong as a surprise for his younger half-brother.
When these two forces clashed, Tenris might be able to convince his mother to finally mobilize her troops.
Yes, it was all coming together.
Tenris had convinced himself that defeat was all but inevitable, and was about to sound the retreat, when he caught whiff of a large amount of Death energy marching from over the horizon.
Turning his mount around, Tenris was surprised to witness a perplexing scene.
Thousands of exhausted looking Highborn covered in mud were being escorted by a similar number of Darkfallen.
Leading from the front, General Nightsong road atop a large carriage. She sat in an overly large chair, and was observing a pair of ragged, mud covered prisoners performing in front of her.
Were these reinforcements???
Tenris was suspicious. What was the General's ploy? Did she intend to use the living as shields? When he thought about it like that, Tenris's estimation of Nightsong's threat level jumped several tiers. He had been wary that she would seize power amongst the Darkfallen due to her prestige and charisma. However, seeing her act so ruthless, Tenris knew he had to be rid of her.
However, these reinforcements were quite welcome. He could use her, much like he had used the Dreadlord.
Realizing he had no means to contact her, he directed the Dragon to dive bomb her position, then pull up just before colliding in a show of dominance.
Wind crashed, and dust flew into the air as Tenris came close.
“Good work conquering Tranquillien. My forces were just about to break through their western flank, and crush the boy-king from the rear. However, your arrival shall expedite this process. Take your troops down the center, and share in my glory as a conqueror!” Tenris grandly spread his arms, making sure to spread plenty of misinformation in his speech, yet making it seem like she was the late comer to his ‘victory.’
“A most gracious proposition, King Tenris. I appreciate your forthrightness, and have come with a gift.” Nightsong gestured towards the dirty prisoners.
One held a guitar, whilst the other sang a beautiful song.
“Syra?” Tenris leaned forward on his mount, and held his hand out in surprise, and longing.
“And her husband, Varrus Vandercross. There isn't a more handsome couple in all of Quel'Thalas.” Nightsong added on, then cast a cleansing spell on both of them, clearing up the mud.
“The playboy?! Careful Nightsong, I value our cordial relationship, but do not take me for some cockroach, free to have his feelings trampled upon.” Tenris pulled back his hand, and scanned his surroundings wearily.
This smelt like a plot straight from those trashy Vandercross plays. He would never let anyone know that he watched that drivel, and if anyone asked, it was just so he could hate on it more!
Realizing that his emotions were likely being toyed with, and that an ambush might occur, he directed his mount to fly out and put some distance between them and the carriage.
However, much to his shock, he found himself clapping to the beat of the guitar, and unconsciously reaching into his own pocket to toss some coins at the guitarist!
“Mind control?!” Tenris gasped in surprise.
“I don't have the opportunity to perform much these days, but I welcome your applause, Crown Prince.” Vandercross bowed his head, as his fingers continued to strum along.
Tenris pulled upon the dark power within, and snapped himself out of the dangerous fugue.
‘Attack!’ He mentally commanded his Dragon.
The beast roared toxic green flames at the carriage, only to have them meet another massive Dragon wing.
Nightsong, using druidic magic, had transformed herself into a Red Dragon, and began to match claws with his mount!
Tenris was desperate to escape, and knew that he had very little time to act. He mentally commanded his archmages to open a portal to Deatholme. He had to leave now.
Conjuring a ray of sickly green Death energy, Tenris blasted the Red Dragon in front of him, and ordered his own mount to take flight.
Just when he thought he was going to get away, a massive sun-like orb of fire dropped down atop of him, forcing him to erect a barrier.
Whilst he blocked the attack, the force involved pressed him back to the ground.
“You look nervous.” A seductive voice tickled his ear.
“Aunt Faedra.” Tenris said in realization, his eyes widened in fear when he felt a stiletto enter and leave his back a dozen times.
Paralytic magic coursed through the blade, and interrupted Tenris’s flow of mana. Not even his Undead constitution was safe from the power of this enchantment!
“Shhh, shhh, do not worry, it will all be over soon. Your heart's desire draws near.” Faedra cooed, her hand reached over his shoulder, and beckoned toward the singer.
Tenris felt the blood in his body run cold as he saw the most beautiful woman in the world decapitate the Dragon he was so proud of.
As a shower of black blood evaporated into the shield surrounding her, she looked up at him, and smiled.
Tenris licked his lips, speechless at the rapid turn of events.
The smiling angel gracefully flowed up to him, and sucker punched him in the heart.
He felt a pain in his chest, and looked down in horror as all the blood he had consumed over the last few weeks began to crumble, and decay. His bright red heart hissed, and steam came off of it as countless trapped souls were released from their torment.
Tenris gasped one last time as he saw the object of his desire kiss the playwright he despised, and was jealous of.
How he wished his own father would have let him have such freedom from responsibility.
Collapsing into a pile of ash, Tenris was no more.
~~~~~~~
Varrus held Syra close, thankful that their plan to gank the former Crown Prince had been carried out smoothly.
There was a bit of a hiccup when Tenris broke out of Varrus's perk: Performer. However, everything worked out in the end.
There were very few people who could match power against 4 Heroes at the same time, and even fewer who could survive an ambush.
“Excellent work my Star.” Varrus complimented.
“We are not finished yet.” Syra gestured her sword towards the remaining horde.
Varrus nodded. They had to mop up the remaining enemy.
The reconquest of Quel'Thalas was almost over. Once they regrouped, and had time to rest, Queen Lana'thel would be next.
“For Silvermoon, for Quel'Thalas!” Varrus raised his sword, and shouted whilst pointing at the enemy.
“For Silvermoon, for Quel'Thalas!” Rho'dan and company were quick to follow the call, and began to charge.
Nightsong busily began to draw the current scene in her sketchbook, and Faedra reclined on a chair she had conjured, like a lazy cat done with the day.
Varrus felt his eyebrow twitch, and decided to ignore them. He then turned to Syra, and smirked.
“First to 5,000 wins?”
“Mmn!” Syra nodded, and smiled back.
Varrus laughed as he saw her take off, like a sprinter, or sports car racing in a straight line. He then unfurled his flying carpet, and took to the skies to bombard the enemy below.
His dreams of establishing an Elven Mageotech Empire were coming closer and closer. Before long, he would be invading the Human lands, and taking the fight to Kel’Thuzad and the Dreadlords.
This time, he would be the one with the initiative, there would be no saving those disgusting degenerates from his wrath.
However, his first priority would always be the safety of his wife.
Glancing at his wife's backside as she slaughtered her way through countless skeletons, and ghouls, Varrus felt both confidence, and worry. While the Highborne were powerful, what they had fought up to now was but a taste of what was to come.
There were TENS OF MILLIONS of Humans spread throughout the kingdoms of Man, all of them ripe victims for the Scourge. If he was to realistically take them on, he would need waaay more golems, and possibly new allies.
Furthermore, attacking the Scourge whilst it was still united was foolish. Once Arthas returned from Kalimdor (signaling Archimonde's defeat), and initiated a civil war between factions, then, and only then would Varrus would restore the Sunwell, and stomp down upon the divided enemy.
Clenching his fists, Varrus rained fire down upon ghouls as he excitedly plotted the downfall of his enemies.
The upcoming battles would be harrowing, but beyond the clouds of plague, and vicious murders, there was a golden future waiting to be grasped!
Comments
Ryan Helmbold
Oh my god yes this
Conor McGroarty
Really amusing to read Tenris’ hater monologue. “If anyone asks about me seeing his plays, I did it to move them even harder.”
Conor McGroarty
If MC wants his wife to be a little less clingy, best way to do so is distract her by getting her more besties. In other words, find married (or at least loyally dating) women who dominate their man and kick ass. Of course this has its own risks of them brainstorming various “ideas” all the men will suffer from. But that’s the price one pays to try and make his wife’s social life a little more varied by decreasing Varrus content by 1%.
