Karp
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Diplomacy 101: Chapter 20
🕑 Added 2024-08-04 21:35:53 +0000 UTCVarrus was toying with the Grand Soul Gem in his hands thinking about which stat point or attribute he should affix to his gear.
If the latest brush with death taught him anything, it was that either speed (agility) or strength were possibly just as important for survivability as all the other stats.
He thought he could simply perform a short range teleportation in the form of Blink, and keep kiting all of his foes.
However, what if he found himself in a place like the Dalaran dungeons, where casting magic was restricted? Yeah, he'd have a big health bar, but what good was that if he couldn't shoot flames from his hands?
Varrus could only conclude that he needed to make himself a set of strong-perfectly sealed from the outside world-set of heavy armor.
If he could keep a set of heavy armor in his inventory, level all the perks, and reach mastery in the weapon skill trees, Varrus would be able to swap between melee and magic on the fly.
Eventually, the goal would be to max out every skill tree, something Varrus would hopefully be able to do once this Troll invasion was wrapped up.
He also had a dream of collecting every type of enchantment, so that he could have a set that fully resisted any one type. Take the axe wielded for Zul’Jin for example.
While the Amani chieftain was being beaten into a coma, Varrus had placed his weapon into his inventory. The axe dealt 100 damage of Void damage immediately, weakened its target to Void damage by 30% for 5 seconds, and dealt 500 damage over 60 seconds.
Compared to most weapon enchantments in Skyrim's Legendary difficulty, this axe was a beast of a weapon!
While it would make for an impressive display piece, Varrus was wary that it might serve as a source for corruption. To play it safe, he would rather disenchant it for the resistances.
Perhaps one day, he might enchant a weapon with the Void attribute, as a weapon enchanted with his own two hands seemed much more reliable than this sketchy battle axe. But that would be for another day.
Speaking of Zul’Jin, Varrus decided he didn't want to wait around all day waiting for the Loa to be killed so that the Troll chieftain could be finally slain. Furthermore, the Troll girl, Jan'alai seemed to have put her all into fighting side by side with Kael. Asking her to sacrifice her life after all that seemed like a thankless task.
Until he figured out how to sever their bond, Varrus would keep Zul’Jin locked up.
Within his repertoire of spells was an Expert Alteration spell, Entomb.
Entomb: Buries a target permanently, or frees a buried target. Only one victim may be buried at a time.
While it was a pretty OP skill, it did come with one major caveat. That being of course, that he could only keep one prisoner at a time.
Turning towards the bloodied pulp that was once a fearsome enemy leader, Varrus motioned for his guards to stand aside, then cast the spell.
The guards didn't even question this series of events, but some of them had a disappointed look on their face, and reluctantly pulled back.
‘Absolute psychopaths.’ Varrus thought to himself.
He could understand hating on Trolls, but the shared animosity was an extreme Varrus had never experienced before.
Seeing that everything was taken care of, Varrus began to analyze the post battle clean up of the beach.
So far, the High Elf forces were looking quite healthy despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them.
Holding the high ground genuinely seemed to work, as the steep angle of the sandy beach made attacking for the Trolls a nightmare.
Furthermore, the majority of Trolls who fought were, sad to say, fodder.
Wearing nothing more than a loincloth and equipped with a stone tipped weapon, they were quite the primitive group.
Arrows and magic significantly thinned their numbers as they disembarked from their canoes. Then when they finally met the Elven line, golems larger and sturdier than them crushed their skulls, and caved their chests in.
Finally, after bypassing the sand and golems, they were met with heavily armored seasoned veterans whose killer instinct was freshly honed off the conflict with the Undead.
The Trolls, unarmored and with no protection from magic-except from the help of the occasional shaman-were slaughtered en masse. Fire rained down upon them in an unrelenting deluge.
In the central line, little more than 87 Elves lost their lives. Any wounds that were nonfatal were almost instantly healed by the careful ministrations of the priests. In comparison, the left flank, held by Varrus saw the Amani trapped in a never ending column of flames. The right flank was led by a large number of Heroes supported by golems, losing not a single Elf.
Victory was all but assured, and the Elves of Quel'Thalas were cheering their battle worn, weary hearts out.
This Troll campaign was nothing but good news for Varrus. Countless Soul Gems to line his pocket, and free publicity in front of the Royalist armed forces?
Varrus was swimming in street cred right now, and he was 100% certain that no one could deny his revival of the Convocation.
His position of leadership all but secured, Varrus now needed to focus on personal growth, and the rise of Silvermoon.
No leader accomplished anything without subordinates to help him achieve greatness.
Men and women like Caesar, Joan of Arc, Alexander, etc could only rise to fame due to the success of the people surrounding them.
During the reconstruction, Varrus would need to find suitable candidates to sit on the Convocation with him, and help him guide Quel'Dorei civilization.
He had a few candidates in mind, but Lor'Themar was on his shortlist. The guy wasn't a great Lord Regent, but his insight into the rangers, as well as his age/experience would serve as a valuable asset and symbol of legitimacy.
Varrus was aware that even with all his substantial abilities, he was still seen as little more than a teenager to most Elves.
Recruiting some older, more respected faces would assuage some of the grumbling, and Lor'Themar specifically would secure the loyalty of the Ranger Corp.
After all, how embarrassing would it be to issue a decree as the head of the government, and have the armed forces disagree?
Varrus had a few others in mind, but he would have to meet with them, and consult with his wife to see what she thought.
The most important thing the future members of the Convocation could bring to the table besides individual power and expertise was stability.
He needed members who represented the magicians, rangers, priests, and warriors. If he could gather influential figures from amongst those castes into his ranks, then the rest of Quel'Thalas would not be in a place to complain.
Additionally, canonically, the start of Vanilla WoW was quite a few years off, which should be plenty of time for Varrus to farm all his skills, gather the materials for a few suits of OP armor, and learn some more native spells.
There was much to be done!
“Highlord! Something is rising out of the ocean!” The guard who had been posted as a lookout rushed to gain Varrus’ attention.
Magical sight activated, Varrus saw a mass of purple energies swirling like a tempest. The amount of magic involved was so mighty, it twisted clouds, and created tiny cracks in the sky.
The Elf army, which had been celebrating after a mostly bloodless victory all stopped at the same time.
Like a marionette cut of its strings, many Elves collapsed to the ground, and began vomiting as the pressure emitted from whatever was rising out of the ocean was too much for them to bear.
A wave of mental pollution swept across all those on the battlefield, including Varrus.
‘Nothing but a boy playing at being a man. You do not belong. You do not deserve her!’
Ceaseless whispers and false images assaulted Varrus’ mind, forcing him to his knees.
Colors of the rainbow, and colors unknown blinded his eyes. While his vision became compromised, alternating male, female, sinister and demonic voices spoke to him endlessly. Sometimes in English, other times in Elvish, and alien tongues foreign to both Earth and Azeroth.
Varrus barely noticed as he felt himself lifted to his feet. Blearily blinking his eyes, Varrus saw his grim faced subordinate, Rho'dan lift his gauntleted hand, then stiffly smack Varrus across the face.
Looking around in a daze, and rapidly blinking his eyes, Varrus took two more knocks to the head before the colors and voices were gradually suppressed.
Yet, while they were suppressed, they still remained, wriggling at the back of his mind. Varrus felt like he could lose control in an instant if he let his concentration slip.
The thought of going back to that headspace sent a shiver down his spine. If he made it out of this one, he had to get his hands on the proper spells or enchantments that protected the mind at all costs! That or level up his Illusion skill tree, and see if that played any role in mental defense.
“Highlord, are you with me?” Rho'dan leaned down, and said with a concerned tone.
Varrus almost felt like chuckling at the naked fear on Rho'dan's face. He never imagined the stalwart protector could make such an expression. The concern was touching, but Varrus would much rather show strength so that none of this got back to his wife.
“Peace Rho'dan. What is. What is going on.” Varrus held up his hand, and was helped to his feet.
The sudden rush from quickly standing and after effects of madness made Varrus unstable, and was forced to cling to his guard for stability.
Varrus wanted to be embarrassed at this weakness, but he couldn't care less when his life was on the line. There was no shame in seeking help when you were in dire straits.
“It is not looking good my Lord. A creature as tall as a mountain is slowly emerging from the ocean's depths. 98% of our forces have entered a comatose, or near comatose state.” Rho'dan said, in the process, he was staggering, and almost dropped Varrus.
Varrus bent his knees, and lent his strength into supporting his friend and companion. His admiration for the long time guard improved by leaps and bounds.
To have the fortitude to resist the mental corruption was impressive to say the least.
Shaking his head, Varrus watched on, his heartstrings tightening as a giant lobster-bug-like cthulhu monster rose out of the ocean. In its grasp was a giant lightning elemental, sparking and blasting at the monster for all its worth.
Like an uncaring god, the monstrosity gripped both ends of the elemental, and ripped it in half, scattering arcs of bright blue electricity all along the skyline.
Shivering at the sight, Varrus had a good idea of what he was up against.
If he was right, this should be one of the champions of the Old Gods. A creature spawned from their organic materials, these beasts were highly intelligent beings that wielded the power of the Void.
Varrus didn't think the Elven army would be of much use in this situation. What he needed were Heroes. People like Rhommath, the Prince, or his wife.
It was a being that Varrus would consider as a demigod, up there in strength with the likes of Mannoroth, leader of the Ptlords, or Cenarius, father of druidism. There was hope that they could defeat this behemoth. If Grom Hellscream, an Orc warrior pumped up on demon blood could destroy two demigods, then the full might of the Elven Heroes should be able to put on a good show.
Glancing over toward the group of 100 mages, Varrus saw that Rhommath was still out of commission, his wife wasn't present, and Kael…Kael was fighting the damned thing! Alongside him were Jan'alai, and to Varrus’ confusion, the lightning elemental.
His phoenix, Al'ar was radiating strong holy energies that Varrus could feel from the beach. That must be why Kael could keep his sanity!
Varrus felt like slapping himself across the forehead for missing out on such an obvious fix. He was so caught up using the Light exclusively to slay the Undead, and heal physical wounds, he never considered it to heal mental wounds! Furthermore, as the direct antithesis to Void, the Light was super effective!
Activating Apotheosis, the max level Restoration perk that could be used once a day, Varrus brought the Warrior's Flame upon the Elven army.
Holy flames coated each and every Highborn present, gradually rousing them from their nightmares.
A group of Heroes eventually made their way toward Varrus as his light burned the brightest, drawing them to him like moths to a flame.
“This shroud of holy light will not last long, Lor'Themar, you must lead the retreat, otherwise our forces will fall into madness. I shall combat this enemy with the Prince.” Varrus seriously intoned.
Lor'Themar looked conflicted, before ultimately nodding his head in ascent.
“Very well Vandercross. I shall place my trust in you once more. I pray that when we meet again, it is in the halls of Silvermoon.” Lor'Themar clasped his hands, then departed.
Turning to address the remaining Heroes, Varrus recognized a few of them. The canonical future Ranger General: Halduron Brightwing. The future leader of the Blood Knights: the paladin Lady Liadran, Archmage Ne'thul the co-founder of the Shattered Sun Offensive. Astalor Bloodsworn the mage who bound a fucking Naaru. Koren, the leader of the dragonhawk knights, and many more such as-Syra?!
Running down the beach in a blur of motion akin to Sonic the Hedgehog, his wife all but glomped him in the tightest embrace of his life.
Varrus wheezed between gasps of air and he felt the enchantments fail to take hold. Evidently his enchantments automatic defense didn't register this act of love as an offensive attack!
“When I felt the wave of corruption from the northern docks, I knew you would need me! Look at you! Your hair is a mess, and your face! Your face is so pale! Tell me who did this to you? I’ll cut them into a thousand, thousand pieces! You can tell me…can’t you!?” Syra spoke like a machine gun. Her face rapidly morphed between love, anger, concern, and madness.
All the while she was adjusting his hair, and stroking his cheek with the back of her hand.
But most importantly, her eyes shared deeply into his, not leaving them for a second. Varrus drank in her care and concern for him, and decided he couldn't be mad at her.
Where else would he find a woman willing to go to such lengths? A kind, considerate, beautiful, murderous woman with the strength to tear a gorilla in half was his wife. What more could a man ask for?
Varrus’ face was frozen in a mixture of genuine smile, and grimace. On the one hand, he was embarrassed for being manhandled in front of his peers. On the other hand, he was sort of proud. His wife was genuine, loyal, and showed everyone here that she was not to be messed with.
Varrus loved this woman to death!
Leaning in close, Varrus planted a tender kiss on her lips, silencing her tirade.
“Thank you for being here. There is no one I’d rather have by my side than you to confront this danger.” Varrus heavily breathed upon her face, then returned her hug.
“Eh heh, you won't die today my love. I still want twelve.” Syra whispered huskily.
“Ahem. My Lady, my Lord.” Rho'dan coughed into his hand to get their attention.
Varrus reluctantly pulled away from his wife, he was curious about how the fight on the docks went, but he could always ask later. He then turned to address the assembled Heroes.
If this foe was what he thought it was, he would need all the help he could get.
It was time to slay a demi-god.
