Karp
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Chapter 166
🕑 Added 2025-02-07 11:36:01 +0000 UTCFollowing Clairvoyance, the blue trail ended up taking him out of Quel'Danas, past Silvermoon, and to a clearing in the Eversong Woods.
As he advanced, Varrus took note of a few woodland creatures, such as mice, deer, and fox, yet they were few in number. The Scourge's influence had been eliminated in this region, but the hidden scars it left behind would likely take generations to heal.
While he had cleansed the land, he couldn't return something to life. Large swathes of trees were missing, and it pained Varrus to see this once lush, and vibrant land transformed into a hollow shade of its former glory.
Taking a deep breath, Varrus vowed to eliminate all of Quel'Thalas's foes, so that something so tragic never happened again. If he was going to bring life into this world, and seriously raise a family, he wanted his children to grow up in paradise. There was no sacrifice he wouldn't make for their upbringing, and his wife's happiness.
Keeping that thought in mind, Varrus hopped off his flying carpet, and strolled towards Syra's position. They were now close enough that he could feel a slight tug on his bound item that she carried on her.
Moving with a spring in his step, Varrus inhaled the cool air, and scattered clouds with a grand smile. Varrus had dreamed of gifting her this buster sword for months, he couldn't wait to see the look on her face!
As he drew near, Varrus recognized this particular section of forest as the place where Syra had claimed her first kill.
‘A peculiar place to search for a flower.’ Varruz thought to himself, and arched an eyebrow in worry.
It seemed that the dream might have affected her more than he had anticipated. Knowing her, she had come to this place as a sort of 'comfort.' Because through all the abuse and crazy fuckery she went through as a child, Syra was particularly proud of this kill.
Sighing to himself, Varrus made sure he was wearing his happiest, brightest expression. If Syra was hurting right now, he hoped he could make her smile.
As a bonus gift, he had another head to handover. He knew how crazy people in Warcraft were over these things, and Xavius's ugly mug was comfy in his inventory at the moment. Such a thought got Varrus wondering. How many would he collect within the next ten years?
A funny thought came to mind, what if he collected so many heads of bad guys, that he could assemble his own choir, like the singing heads in the haunted mansion? Chuckling to himself, Varrus finally approached the spot where Syra had hidden herself.
Hidden amongst a clearing, Varrus saw Syra, flanked by the Illidari Council, and three other Elves facing them on their knees, with their heads bowed. He vaguely recognized one of the Elves as the astromancer who called him out months ago when he gave his speech at the funeral that took place after they retook Silvermoon.
If he recalled, the astromancer was a Hero, who in canon, was a boss in a raid, one who was highly proficient in the Void. In fact, all three of them were radiating enough mana, that any one of them could be a Hero!
‘Well, good news is, Syra isn't depressed. Weird news is, what is she doing with this trio, and should I be concerned with this?’ Varrus thought to himself in a mixture of relief and confusion.
Pausing in his step, Varrus observed from behind a tree, yet thanks to the nature of bound items, Syra was sure to have felt his presence. Regardless, he cast an invisibility spell, and listened in, curious to see what Syra was conducting out here in the boondocks.
“Astromamcer Solarian, Magister Umbric, Voidmaster Evenshade, do you think yourself worthy of my teachings? Do you call yourselves my followers?” Syra questioned the kneeling Elves.
“Yes, Lady Vandercross.” The three Elves replied.
‘So her name was Solarian, now I recall. I had wiped against her several times. She had a bullshit ability, Wrath of the Astromancer, which increased damage taken by Arcane by 50%, stacking up to 10 times! If she is here, kneeling at Syra's feet, then that is something! Umbric is also a familiar name…that should be the dude who founded the Void Elf capitol alongside Alleria Windrunner. As for the last guy, hmm, I have no clue who he is.’ Varrus thought to himself, and was wondering just what the hell Syra was trying to pull here. Some ritual perhaps?
Whatever the case may be, Varrus was sure to perk his ears, and listen to every word she said.
“...do not reject my touch. Should any of you harbor maligned intentions towards myself or my family, you know the consequences.”
Upon finishing her statement, three purple-golden beams sprang from her hand, and began ‘shocking’ the three supplicants.
After a minute of this going on, the Voidmaster's skin turned completely purple, and his eyes golden.
“I can feel it! The power, it is incredible! Ha. I am a God!” The Elf proclaimed, then a second later, he exploded into a puddle of blood and gore.
The power of Holy Void that Syra was channeling instantly consumed the corpse, and all its bits, leaving nothing behind.
Sweating profusely, the other two supplicants bowed their heads, and began chanting some mantra that Varrus didn't recognize.
After a full 10 minutes had gone by, Syra released her hold on them, and stepped back.
“Rise, and welcome to the Illidari Council.” Syra said with some difficulty.
Varrus chuckled to himself. It wasn't difficult for her to say those words because she was exhausted, he knew that she just really didn't want to talk to them!
He really wanted to laugh louder when he saw her ears twitch, she had very obviously heard him!
However, his laughter was cut when he saw all the members of the Illidari exhibit the distinct purple-gold ability that had until now been exclusive to his wife!
Choking on some spit, Varrus's eyes went wide.
‘Wow, she actually listened to my suggestion! Back when I mentioned teaching people to mix the Light and Void during our Gilneas campaign, I never imagined she'd actually do it! Especially with how much she hated talking to people!’ Varrus stared blankly ahead, stunned by this monumental accomplishment.
The power of Holy Void was genuinely some bullshit. The Illidari Council already were individually as strong as a low tier Hero. They had been gifted enchanted gear, and as a unit, could take on the likes of mid tier Heroes like Tae'thelon or Thaladred. Now that they had this buff, Varrus wondered if they could threaten a high tier Hero, or as a group of 6, if they could take on a Legendary Hero like Thrall or Jaina.
At the end of the day though, this was a win for his family. Whilst Syra's forces weren't beholden to him, he was happy to see them grow. To him, Syra wasn't just some wall flower that needed his constant protection. She not only had her own personal power, but controlled arguably the 4th or 5th most powerful faction in the nation.
That might not seem impressive, but it was!
Off the top of his head, he could think of 7 factions, and would roughly rank them in this order:
#1 Royal Guard
#2 House Vandercross + Crossguard
#3 Magisters
#4 Illidari Council
#5 Blood Knights + Church (Paladins/Priests)
#6 Rangers
#7 Knights of the Hawk (Dragonhawk knights)
#??? Faedra's Assassins
It might seem insane to put such an organization above larger bodies, like the Rangers. But the Rangers only had Arcane Arrows going for them, and numbers. If he was to compare them to an equivalent from Earth, they were like a ragtag militia of thousands with AK's-47's in comparison to 6 main battle tanks. Each had their own use, but the power of Holy Void wielding Heroes could not be understated!
Varrus was happily thinking about his wife's success, it wasn't until he felt a sharp poke in his side-breaking his invisibility-that he realized he had been caught up in his thoughts.
Belatedly, he realized the Illidari Council were long gone.
“Ah, how long were you standing there for?” Varrus scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.
“Oh, only about 10 minutes.” Syra grinned at him, and clunked him on the forehead.
She then took him by the hand, and spun around.
Moving with her, Varrus went with the impromptu movement, and tossed her in the air.
“All done with your work for the day?” Syra questioned, then did a somersault, and landed on the branch of a tree.
“More or less.” Varrus said, and hopped up next to her.
Syra kissed him on the cheek, then snuggled up next to him. Gripping his arm tightly-but not to the point of pain-Syra rubbed her face on his chest, and smiled brightly.
“Good, then we can have some fun~” Syra exclaimed excitedly.
Internally, Varrus agreed. Right about now felt like it would be a good time to unwind, and make some love. Or at least that's what he thought, but the smooth hand pushing him off the branch had other ideas.
Performing a front flip, Varrus landed on his, and glared up at his wife.
Sticking her tongue out, Syra drew her sword, and jumped down after him.
“Engarde!” Syra said, and flourished her blade.
Thankfully, she wasn't using her speed to its fullest, nor was she suffusing her body with Holy Void energy. It was an unspoken agreement, but in that second when she charged at him, both silently agreed not to use any magic for this friendly spar. It was purely a competition of skill.
That being said, Varrus still had to draw his sword in a hurry!
Barely unsheathing his weapon in time, Varrus tried to parry Syra's weapon away, but the giant slab of metal had superior reach, and bullied him backwards.
Grinning at him, Syra pressed him further and further back. Along the way, she cut a tree in half, and created a few furrows in the ground. If Varrus didn't know better, and had come upon the scene, he would say her sword marks were like that of a plow!
As he was pressed back, Varrus admired Syra's skill with the sword. The way she twisted, turned, stabbed, slashed, and moved, it was like watching a performance. She was fluid, yet strong, graceful yet tyrannical. Her style was so different from Rho'dan's straightforward approach, Lor'Themar's skirmishing methodology, and Nightsong's overwhelming pressure.
Syra fought like a hunter, a killer that was aroused from the thoughts of her prey's brutal demise. The way her blade fell upon him, he had no doubts that in another life, she would be a premier berserker. Yet her training as a rogue had made her an efficient machine, one with which Varrus saw no exploits to abuse.
Meanwhile, Varrrus's own fighting style was more focused on parries, blocks, and staying alive. In short, if he was within melee range of his opponents, then something was very wrong. The sword was his last line of defense, and was used primarily to buy time so he could cast more spells.
This ethos was reflected in his fighting style. It was perhaps cowardly, but survival was the better part of valor in Varrus's book.
As someone who had no training whatsoever half a year ago, he thought he was comporting himself rather well.
Redirecting Syra's sword into a nearby stream, Varrus was feeling confident, and extended his leg to trip her, only for her to kick it back.
Stumbling on his back foot, Varrus's positioning became unstable, and he lost his balance whilst backpedaling from Syra's renewed aggression.
‘Well, 100 skill points in One Handed may make me a savant, but true geniuses who have trained all their lives are still a hurdle to pass.’ Varrus cheekily lamented to himself as his defeat seemed all but certain.
As if to prove this point, Syra began to giggle as he stumbled over backwards on top of a tree root.
Before he could make a further move, Syra had the point of her sword at his chin.
“You got me.” Varrus said playfully, and dropped his sword.
Syra sheathed her own, then held out a hand to help him up.
“So, what did you want to do?” Syra, now warmed up, approached him huskily.
“I'm glad you asked. Say hello to my little friend!” Varrus said in an accented voice, and reached into his robe pocket.
When it looked like he was going to reveal himself, Varrus activated his inventory, and pulled out the giant black adamantium buster sword instead.
“Here you go, it's all yours!” Varrus planted the sword in the ground, and nodded at her.
Syra gasped, and stared at the weapon, mesmerized.
Varrus grinned at her, and found that she was practically in a trance looking at this weapon.
Laughing to himself, Varrus never realized she was in this deep! It was like watching one of those super collectors going gaga over a rare car, or MTG card.
Except this was his wife!
Feeling good about his decision, Varrus basked in his wife's awed silence. For once, it was his turn to watch as Syra lost her attention span, and focused solely on something.
“Well, give it a swing, why dontcha?” Varrus said playfully, and poked her in the side.
Syra blinked at him slowly, and owlishly, as if she had just woken up from a deep slumber.
“Heh.” Varrus winked, then clunked his forehead on hers as a wakeup call.
Holding her hand out, Syra began to tremble, she then clasped the hilt of the blade, and a wide, uncontrollable smile of sunshine blossomed across her face.
Radiating a metric fuckton of Light energy-the most accurate measurement, Varrus was sure-the surrounding landscape seemed to brighten up, and Varrus's breaths became easier. An aura of pure bliss, and innocent joy suffused the air.
Lifting the blade up, like King Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone, Syra pointed it towards the sun, then swung it down.
A single crisp sound rang out, and birds were scared into flight for miles all around.
Binding it to herself, Syra started to play around with it like a kid that got their first phone. She was absolutely addicted!
Smiling to himself, Varrus drank in her childish amusement, and was just happy to be along for the ride.
‘Ah, it was all worth it.’ Varrus thought to himself.
Conjuring a bench, Varrus watched on as Syra super speed blitzed around, and practiced all her forms, working up a sweat.
An hour passed like this, and when Varrus thought she would keep going. Syra jumped in front of him, and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.
Ripping his cloak off him, she looked at him like a beast ready to ravage its prey.
Grinning to himself, Varrus embraced Syra, and got down to business.
The gift was a huge success!
