Karp
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Chapter 43
🕑 Added 2024-08-19 18:46:13 +0000 UTCVarrus found himself at a corner of the Royal Palace, on a terrace overlooking a hedge maze.
Light rain drizzled down upon his position, but enchanted umbrellas diverted the direction of the rain, and had it run off into the gutters, leaving him dry.
Standing beside him was Syra, whom had contacted him via scrying orb soon after he left the dungeon. Which allowed them to meet up for the luncheon, and save Varrus the headache of searching all throughout the city for her by foot.
They were waiting for Kael and Jan'alai to show up for lunch, so Varrus let his mind wander as he took in the simple, yet useful, everyday enchantments that surrounded him.
The scrying orb, for example, essentially acted as a cellphone, and could record, call, and send text over long distances. They used the leylines like a cable network to transmit messages, or could be used globally by anyone with enough mana to boost the signal.
Ingenious inventions such as scrying orbs, running water (plus showers and toilets), indoor heating, and neat curios like these enchanted umbrellas almost made Varrus feel like he was still in a modern era of Earth.
In fact, Varrus was tempted to steal one of the umbrellas to disenchant. The ability to collect and divert oncoming water would be a useful enchantment on armor or a shield when fighting against the Naga. That serpentine, seafaring race of mutated Highborn were the survivors of the Sundering.
The Sundering being a massive explosion that broke apart the Pangea-like supercontinent that once dominated the planet of Azeroth into nearly a dozen land masses.
Pledged to the Old Gods, the Naga were on the same team as they giant cthulhu-esque monster, Kith'ix. Conflict with them seemed inevitable.
While it would likely be a far off conflict, that didn't mean Varrus couldn't make some preparations ahead of time.
Whilst Varrus was stroking his chin, and plotting the theft of an umbrella, Syra sat on the edge of a monstrously long table.
She was carefully pressing a flower into her journal, and cutely stuck her tongue out to the corner of her mouth as she glued it in place.
The focus in her eyes, and dedication to her hobby really warmed Varrus’ heart.
With the revelation that she had orchestrated the murder of his political rival, and blackmailed another into supporting him, he was a little worried when she left the estate, and entered the city.
But knowing that she was on the hunt for a new flower, left Varrus at ease. Collecting memories for a later time was rather wholesome.
When Varrus was younger, back on Earth, he would receive all sorts of notes from his parents. Typically it was stuff like ‘do the dishes, take out the trash, or sign a package arriving today.’
But sometimes they would say how proud of him they were, or that they loved him. Varrus began collecting those notes, and when he was older, they became fond memories that he could cherish into his old age.
Varrus walked up besides Syra, and gave her a side hug as she finished completely pressing the flower into the book. It looked familiar to Varrus, being a purplish color, but he was no botanist, or even an amateur. Identifying flower names simply by looking at them was beyond him.
“Someone is happy. Did you find what you wanted?” Varrus said, kissing Syra on the cheek.
His wife blinked her eyes like a baby rat being forced to wake up, and was a little out of sorts as she stroked the flower with a creepy, somewhat obsessive smile on her face.
Varrus glanced left and right at her odd behavior, but he supposed everyone had their quirks. At least it was nice to see her enjoying herself.
So much war, death, and suffering had graced this land in the last couple if days, it was nice to find something that wasn't ‘work related’ to relax to.
“I need a hobby.” Varrus muttered to himself.
As he spoke, he heard Kael muttering on the wind, and the loud bodacious laughter of one muscular Troll lady.
Snapping her book shut, Syra grabbed onto Varrus’ arm, and pulled roughly herself off the table, as if to say ‘I'm all the hobby you need.’
At that moment, she was so forceful, Syra almost took Varrus down to the ground with the strength of her pull.
‘Woah lady, making out in public is embarrassing enough, I'm not going to let you press me to the ground in front of my best friend!’ Varrus mentally complained as he pushed back against her.
It was only thanks to his increased stats, that Varrus was able to balance himself.
He could only raise an eyebrow, and nervously grin at her antics. This woman was cute when she was jealous, but damn!
Syra then placed one hand firmly on his buttox, giving it a nice squeeze, while the other hand gripped the back of his neck.
Varrus was all but forced into a tongue twisting kiss, but he couldn't complain, as he had yet to grow tired of kissing his wife.
Clunking her forehead with his, Varrus looked into Syra's eyes with amusement as she kept glancing outward, in the direction of Kael and Jan'alai.
“I'm not going anywhere, my love. I am yours, always and forever.” Varrus softly intoned, and gently stroked her cheek with the back of her hand.
“No flirting, no hugs, and no-” Syra all but growled, only to be interrupted by Varrus pecking her on the lips.
“Yes, yes, my big bad wife will chain me to the bed post, force me to forget about politics, and make sweet baby making love until she has her child.”
“Don't give me ideas Varrus.” Syra gripped him by the collar, and said with intensity.
Varrus gulped as he saw she was 100% serious.
“Is this the sight I am to be greeted with every time we meet, hm, Varrus?” Kael huffed in disapproval.
“Jealous, Goldilocks?” Jan'alai placed her hands underneath her chest, and leaned over towards the Prince.
“Preposterous! I am merely in a hurry to get this luncheon over with! My plans to slay the Betrayer are more important than this.” Kael said hotly as he crossed his arms in anger.
Varrus took a good look at his friend, and felt like something was off. He was typically moody from what he had seen, something Varrus would ordinarily write off, given the death of his father. That, and the responsibilities of an entire kingdom suddenly being thrust upon his shoulders.
However, there seemed to be an edge to him that wasn't present before.
“Kael, relax, have a drink.” Varrus proposed, and telekinetically floated over a goblet that had been on the table.
Kael batted the goblet out of the way with a bolt of Arcane.
“Now is not the time for drinks. We should be mustering the troops! I came here to inform you that this campaign will be needing any surplus Mana Stones you have. I plan on taking the fight directly to Arthas! The people cry out for blood, and I will be the instrument of their retribution.”
Varrus held Syra tightly on the arm, just barely holding her back from doing something unwise.
“While I applaud the need to act, isn't this a little too hasty? Chasing after Arthas ignores the plight of the people. Those still trapped in their homes are wasting away, becoming Wretched due to their mana addiction. This isn't like you, you are acting-”
“Decisive? At the square last night, I let them walk all over me, and disparage Jan'alai. How am I to lead our people through this darkness if I stand still, and remain idle? I thought you of all people would appreciate the need for swift action!” Kael mirthlessly laughed.
Varrus shut his mouth at the uncharacteristic behavior presented by Kael. Was it as he claimed? Did he truly have a wake up call, and decided to take matters into his own hands?
Fact of the matter was, Varrus appreciated a decisive leader, but he was worried that this shift in Kael’s attitude was much too swift compared to his canon counterpart.
It was whilst Varrus was looking at his friend in concern at this altered behavior, that he saw a flash of green flicker in Kael's magically blue eyes.
Now, Varrus wasn't an NPC in a game that would look straight at a player character in stealth, and say: ‘you see something? I thought I saw something.’
No, he was a real person, and he knew what the color of an Elfs’ eyes signified.
Just like how you could tell a Pokemon's type based upon its colors (looking at you Evee evolutions), anyone could tell what flavor of magic an Elf primarily cast based on the color of their eyes.
It would seem that the rift of Fel energy that seeped into Azeroth during the Infernal incursion had done more damage than rain some debris onto their buildings.
Elves sucked up ambient magic like a Human breathed air. It was stunning to Varrus that such a small amount could affect Kael this drastically, but considering he had seen people get drunk off a shot of alcohol, he realized that everyone had different tolerances.
Varrus wanted Kael to seize life by the reins, but that didn't mean he wanted his friend to sacrifice his compassion along the way.
“At least take a seat so we can talk about this over a good meal, why do you insist on chasing after Arthas? Tell me your reasoning. Is there a strategic goal that you have in mind, or is it blind revenge that has you ignoring the reality of chasing after him?” Varrus gestured towards the seat in an attempt at reconciliation.
It was incredibly rude for Kael to destroy the goblet of wine in a fit of rage, but Varrus was trying to be understanding. He could tolerate a little anger if it helped the Prince get it out of his system.
Scowling, Kael pulled up a seat, yet ignored the fruit and other snacks on the table.
“I've studied the Scourge, and noticed that without a local commander, they tend to shamble about like the mindless creatures that they are.”
“And you think killing Arthas will make them all adopt this trait? What’s to stop another commander from taking a leading role? Furthermore, what makes you so sure that Arthas is their primary leader?” Varrus pushed back.
“Arthas is the center of this, I am certain! Trust me, old friend, if we take him out, the lesser commanders will scramble for power, dividing their forces. Then, we swoop in and clear the remaining Undead out like a child opening gifts at the Feast of Winter's Veil!” Kael excitedly exclaimed.
“You have heard of the Lich King, have you not? The Undead seem to sing only praises of him every chance they get.” Varrus said sarcastically as he popped a grape into his mouth, and enjoyed its sweet/sour flavor.
“Myths and superstition meant to embolden the Cult of the Damned. This so-called Lich King has never made an appearance. It is a fact that when Arthas returned from Northrend, he was at the host of a powerful army. In every campaign, he was at the helm. If there is such a king, it is Arthas.” Kael said with passionate surety.
“An interesting hypothesis, Kael, but that is a big gamble. I happen to know that the Lich King is not only real, but that he poses a dire threat to our land. Making his home in Northrend, he is a great necromancer skilled in mind magic. Arthas is significant, I’ll grant you that much, but he is not the head of the snake you are looking for.” Varrus shook his head, then fed one of the grapes on the table to Syra.
His wife suckled on his finger for a second, then shot the Troll across the table a look.
Varrus chuckled when Jan'alai gripped a wedge of watermelon, and all but shoved the triangular slice into Kael’s face, staining his chin and robe with sticky juices.
“Jan'alai! This is a serious discussion! If you cannot behave yourself, then I am asking you to leave!” Kael angrily pouted as he cast a cleansing spell to wipe up the mess.
“Oh, I thought we were here to eat lunch?” Jan'alai said, holding up a chicken wing in front of Kael’s face.
Kael opened his mouth as if to disagree, when his stomach growled especially loudly right at that moment.
“Well Goldilocks?” Jan'alai grinned from ear to ear.
Kael silently stole the chicken wing from Jan'alai's grasp, then munched on it whilst glaring hatefully at Varrus across the table.
The boy-prince trying to act all serious almost had Varrus choke as he took a sip of his wine.
Good God, this petulant Prince was like a cat being soaked in bathwater!
“So the Lich King is real. You have proof to back this up?” Kael said between bites.
“A masculine voice claiming to be the Lich King attempted to turn me traitor. He promised me the fame I so rightly deserved, to succeed my father's position. Naturally, I ignored it. At the time I assumed it was some political ploy to turn me against my father by a rival. How wrong I was. I imagine it was this same method that saw Drathir Dar'Khan betray us.” Varrus said, coming up with a lie he figured would sound convincing enough.
“Even if there is a Lich King, Arthas must pay for what he has done. You can see the state of our country! Give me the Mana Stones necessary for this campaign, and I will wipe the name Menethil from the pages of history!” Kael said with a burning intensity.
“It is precisely because I can see the state of our country that I cannot let you go on a mad goose chase in pursuit of this lone commander.” Varrus closed his eyes, deeply sighed, and said with pity.
“What.” Kael leaned forward in his chair in disbelief.
“I said-”
“I know what you said!”
“How can you sit there, relaxing in the arms of a beautiful woman, enjoying what limited food we have, and in the mood for laughter like it is all a joke? How can you trivialize this, this…how can you trivialize the sorrow, guilt, fear, anger hatred when these people…you, me, everyone! How can you relax when we have lost EVERYTHING!” Kael stood from the table, and slammed his hands down, whilst he looked Varrus in the eye.
Kael’s voice warbled and stuttered, his face held great anguish, but the spark of green in his eyes spoke of madness and desperation.
“A little girl, no older than 12 came up to me on my way here.” Kael said with emotion, obviously biting back tears. “You know what she said to me?”
Varrus kept silent, maintaining eye contact. He felt Syra’s nails painfully dig into his arm, but he ignored them. Kael deserved that much respect.
“She said ‘where do I sign up for the Sunfury? Your speech was inspiring!’ That she was good with a firebolt, and was ready for the fight!” Kael placed his knuckles in his mouth, and bit down as he pulled back.
“The little girl wasn't crying, angry, none of that! She was enthused! I did that. I made a little girl want to throw her life away, when she still has so much to live for. Of course I discreetly had the Royal Guards keep her from any of that, but the point is Varrus, even children are crying out for this. I am not asking you as your monarch, but as your friend. Please, give me your Mana Stones for this campaign.” Kael said emotionally.
Varrus closed his eyes and sighed.
‘Shit, Kael may be influenced by Fel magic, but that doesn't mean his plan isn't exactly a bad one. However, the full might of the Scourge was waaay too strong at the moment. Canonically, Garithos was easily defeated by the Dreadlords who commanded the Scourge forces within Lordaeron.
Adding Kael and some ad hoc Blood Elves with a days’ worth of training wouldn't do shit to tip the balance of that situation. I have to find a way to purge this Fel energy from him, and make him clean house first before even thinking about going after Arthas.’ Varrus hurriedly thought to himself, and began to form a plan.
Varrus decided he would have to blast Kael with a highly concentrated dose of Holy magic, and remove the Fel e energy from his system.
He had to be very careful about it, because he knew that Kael was on edge, and likely ready to snap at any moment. Furthermore, he most definitely had an enchanted item protecting himself from magical attacks.
Any attack from Varrus would be blocked, and give Kael enough time to retaliate. Violence was not the answer, and truthfully speaking, Varrus never wanted to trade hands with a friend. He had done so once before back on Earth, and it was something he had regretted for all time.
If Varrus was to help return Kael to his proper mental state, he would have to use finesse.
“Okay Kael, I'll supply your Mana Stones, but we're going to have to discuss the specifics, you wouldn't want me to give them all to you, and leave our people at home to suffer, would you?” Varrus said, gesturing for Kael to sit once more.
“Sheesh, Goldilocks, I like this aggressive side of yours, very manly.” Jan'alai flashed him a smile, and all but manhandled him into the chair across from Varrus.
Her fit arms wrapped around his waist like pythons going in for the kill.
Kael wore an affronted look on his face, and seemed to be internally warring between anger, and happiness?
Varrus whistled at Kael's slight blush.
Fel magic, it would seem, greatly amplified the emotions of the one under its effects.
Kael, the tsundere he was, typically would have pushed Jan'alai away by now. However, while he looked like a cat being forced into a bath, he also gave off ‘dog wagging its tail’ vibes.
If mental corruption wasn't such a serious issue, Varrus would be seriously egging his friend on at the moment.
…no, wait, that's EXACTLY what he should be doing right now!
With his emotions heightened, Kael was prone to bursts of outrage, however…however! He was also weak to the big boobed, loud mouthed tomboy clenching his waist at the moment!
Blessed with a fiendish idea that would see his friend cured of this madness, and get his wife's ire off his back, Varrus sent a message to Rho'dan on his scrying orb to begin arranging things.
“Very well, how many Mana Stones can you afford to supply?” Kael seriously intoned, seeming to calm down as if a switch had been flipped.
“Ah, that all depends on if you and Jan'alai can beat me and Syra in a race to find a flag in the maze down below.” Varrus said as he idly made a circle in the rim of his wine glass.
The way he spoke, he was channeling 210% of the classic smug Elf attitude.
“Unbelievable. Our people cry out for revenge, and you want to waste my time with some childish game? We're done here, I'll be sending Pathaleon to your estate to collect what needs to be taken.” Kael’Thas stood up out of Jan'alai's grasp, and started to storm away.
“No. I don't think he will. Either you play along, and settle things in a friendly match, or you’ll march on proverbial empty stomachs.” Varrus said, taking a sip of his wine.
“What did you say?” Kael stopped in his tracks, and whirled around to stare Varrus in the eyes. His cape twirled theatrically, and Varrus almost couldn't keep a straight face because of how ridiculous cape physics were, and how petulant Kael was acting.
“You heard me last time, suddenly I am to believe you have gone deaf too?” Varrus said, settling for a smirk instead of all out laughter.
“As your Prince, and future King, I order you and your men to provide Mana Stones to my army.” Kael’Thas said, cold as ice.
“You are not my King yet Kael, even if you were, I would not obey such an order. Do not forget, it is the Convocation that signs off on any war, conflict, or diplomatic enquiry. This little sojourn of yours is illegal until I say otherwise.” Varrus said, saluting Kael cheerfully with his goblet, then took a sip.
Kael opened his mouth, and scrunched his face like he had eaten something sour.
“But that doesn't mean I am closed to negotiation. Please, take a seat, Jan'alai is lonely without you.” Varrus motioned towards the overturned chair, and silently moping Troll girl.
Kael paused for a moment, and stared so deeply at Varrus, that he almost suspected the Prince would lash out at him with an attack.
“Let me see if I understood you just now. You wish to settle the fate of our people over a childrens’ game?” Kael said, crossing his arms, as he reluctantly sat down next to Jan'alai once more.
“When you put it like that, I sound like quite the asshole.” Varrus cheerfully exclaimed as he sipped his cool refreshing beverage once more.
“Vandercross nonsense. Just like when we were boys.” Kael muttered to himself, then looked up at Varrus and raised his voice. “Fine. I believe we are friends, Varrus. As much as things have changed, so much remains the same. I almost would rather duel you, then go off on another adventure ‘round the castle gardens again.” Kael said with a sad, nostalgic smile.
“It is better we resolve our conflict of interest with something harmless than to stew bitterly for thousands of years like our parents.” Varrus added, looking Kael in the eye.
Even Kael, despite his slight Fel magic high could only begrudgingly nod at that.
“I can see the reasoning behind resolving our dispute peacefully, but a game to decide who is right, and who is wrong?” Kael shook his head, still baffled at Varrus’ choice.
Varrus knew it was childish, but as the key policy maker in Quel'Thalas, other people had to negotiate with him if they wanted to pass a law, or enact change. Including any large scale military operation.
Between friends who disagreed with one another, what better way was there to peacefully resolve conflict than through a game?
Besides, something like a duel was the last thing Varrus wanted. No matter who won, it would set a dangerous precedent, and things could get real ugly, real fast.
“Afraid, Goldilocks? With me by your side, there's no way we can lose!” Jan'alai confidently wrapped Kael around the neck, and close to her bussom.
“I can drink to that! Cheers!” Varrus held up his glass, then telekinetically floated over another pair of drinks towards the duo.
Only at the last second, Varrus deliberately spilt the beverage over Jan'alai’s chest.
“Woah!” Varrus called out as if it were an accident.
The sticky wine splattered across Jan'alai, and the cold stimulated her ripples, causing them to harden, and poke into Kael’s face.
“E-enough of this! Jan'alai and I shall meet this challenge, but when I win, Varrus, I want your full support in fighting Arthas. I still think of you as a friend, and there would be no one I’d rather have by my side than you when I burn that putrid excuse for a Prince into ash.” Kael pulled back red faced, and shouted at Varrus hotly.
Varrus couldn't hold it back any more, and belly laughed at his friend’s actions.
“And if we win, you’ll follow my lead when it comes to cleansing Quel'Thalas.” Varrus barely got out between his chuckles.
“Laugh all you want Varrus, you’ll be thanking me once I free our people from this blight.” Kael said, pointing his finger at Varrus in a declaration of victory.
“We’ll see Kael, but this little game needs rules. For one, no magical gear, or magic at all. Which is why we’ll be handcuffed with our partner with mana suppressant handcuffs.”
“Looks like you’re stuck with me, Goldilocks.” Jan'alai laughed, then messed up Kael’s hair.
Syra quietly, and tenderly placed her hand on Varrus’ inner thigh, and kissed him on the cheek.
“What, I do not agree to this-” Kael sputtered, only to be interrupted.
“It’s settled then, whoever finds the flag, and gets ahold of it first is the winner.” Varrus said, grinning devilishly, like the Grinch who Stole Christmas.
Syra smiled brilliantly, holding lovingly onto Varrus’ hand.
Jan'alai roared her laughter, slapping Kael on the back, and waving her wine goblet into the air like a wild party goer.
Varrus quirked his eyebrow in amusement, and pulled his wife close to nestle his chin in her hair.
Meanwhile, Kael-due to the Fel magic influencing his emotions-was experiencing a heightened concoction of simmering resentment, emo inner turmoil, and slumped resignation.
It was glorious.
Comments
Hans Gruber
kek if I didn't know it would backfire horribly I'd say keep Fel'thas as is
