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Diplomacy 101: Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2024-08-04 20:32:11 +0000 UTCVarrus woke up to the sound of soft moans, and the steady slap of flesh on flesh coming from another room. There was nothing quite like a zombie genocide to get people's survival instinct to kick in it seemed.
Feeling a warm body under his right arm, Varrus almost flinched when he saw her unblinkingly looking at him.
Instead of pulling away, he smiled, and booped Syra's nose with the tip of his finger.
Her smile widened, and she took a deep whiff of him, then exhaled in seeming bliss. Without saying a word, she plucked another one of his hairs, and started to weave it together with the other two she had stolen previously.
She would channel the Light into the hair, and giggle to herself as she basked in some morning sun spilling in from the window.
For such an effective killer and borderline psycho, Syra really was a cutie. Especially that innocent bell-like laughter of hers. If Varrus didn't know any better, he would treat her threat to scoop out his eyeballs lightly.
Internally scoffing at the childish, yet charming scene. It almost felt so unreal. This whole situation was crazy. Especially the new sensations! His heightened awareness, the uncanny balance, and the feeling of mana everywhere almost overwhelmed him.
This was his world now, and he needed to do everything he could to survive. The best way to do that besides grinding levels was to increase his influence, and the power of the Highborn in general.
After 90% of their population got genocided, there should be little more than 20-122k remaining. Blizzard was never forthcoming on the exact numbers, but Varrus was hoping for more survivors with him in the mix. However, it wasn't just the High Elves who were at a disadvantage at this time. Most other races suffered cataclysmically during this time.
Gnomeregan fell, the Tauren almost went extinct due to the Centaur, the Dark Spear were a small tribe that fled Stranglethorn, the Orcs were the remnants of concentration camps, and the Humans of Stormwind were rebuilding their city. The Night Elves too would soon be facing a demonic tribulation in the near future. The only race that managed to hold onto everything were the Dwarves of Ironforge.
Times were tough for most of the civilized races.
With such low numbers between them, joining a faction, either the Horde or the Alliance made sense.
However, with his foreknowledge, Varrus was hesitant to sign on with either side. Namely because the High Elves didn't particularly fit in with either camp.
In the Horde, the Trolls, Tauren, and Orcs were best bros. Whereas in the Alliance, the Humans, Gnomes, and Dwarves were the same. In these two factions, the Highborn would be outsiders, subservient to Orc or Human wishes. It's like if Switzerland joined NATO. As if the major factions would bother listening to Switzerland when it came to planning global defense.
Also, it was highly unlikely that a High Elf would ever be accepted as Warchief. Hell, fucking Thrall made his best friend's son Warchief before Cairn, or Vol'Jin because supposedly the rest of the Orcs wouldn't accept a non-orc! Cairn was literally the best bro from Warcraft 3, and the Tauren were the chillest people!
The Alliance was also a wash, because most Humans didn't trust anyone but themselves with leadership. Stormwind in particular were greedy for leadership, even turning King Genn Greymane of Gilneas into their whipping boy. And so long as Jain Proudmoore drew breath, she would simp for Stormwind as well, leaving Kul Tiras out of any Human x Elf alliance. Honestly, he couldn't blame the Humans for their distrust. Because he wouldn't have much faith in the Elves either. They didn't exactly have the best track record considering they went afk and sat out the entire Scourging of Lordaeron as well as sent only token forces during the 2nd War.
Garrithos was a prime example of humanity's distrust. People could say "he was only one racist." But his entire army, including the Dwarves, were okay with executing Kael'Thas' entire contingent over a minor misunderstanding.
People like Anduin-those who were kind even to the vilest people-were the very rare exception. Instead, extreme people like Jaina or Arthas who acted without consulting their allies were the norm. Most Human citizens were peasants with no education, and the ruling elite were the same nobility that refused to pay the stonemasons who rebuilt Stormwind, creating the Defias Brotherhood in the process. Simply put, the majority of Humans were selfish, and would only play ball if the Elves followed their lead. They would say it's an Alliance where all voices were equal, but canonically, the Night Elves saw first hand just how equal they were in the Alliance when Teldrassil was burned.
When it came to the Horde and their inclusion of Trolls, there was no bigger negative than that for a potential High Elf alliance. Silvermoon was literally built upon the remains of a Troll holy site! The hatred between the Amani and Quel'Dorei was unreconcilable! Add to the fact that High Elves had killed countless Orcs in the 2nd War, and it could be said the two races didn't exactly have much in common. The Horde didn't seem like the best option.
Whereas the Alliance would soon have the Night Elves, which still hated the Highborn for blowing up the world during the Sundering. Some might think "oh, they're related, they can reconcile." Not when people like Maiev hunted Illidan down to the ends of the earth-sacrificing all her soldiers in the process-because he dared to use arcane and fel magic. When an immortal being harbors a grudge of hatred lasting 10,000 years, it would be unbelievable for them to suddenly change their mind and be okay with arcane magic, or the people accused of destroying everything.
Whichever team the High Elves joined, they would become marginalized, and be used as a pawn between two great powers.
While Varrus wasn't keen on joining either faction, he wasn't 100% opposed to doing so if the conditions were right. Orgrimmar and Stormwind did have a serious amount of plot armor about them. At the very least, he wouldn't mind maintaining cordial relations between both sides.
However, to shore up the Highborn's lack of numbers, forming a faction under Elven leadership seemed much more promising in his opinion.
Like how all other races in the Horde/Alliance were subservient to the whims of Stormwind and Orgirmmar, Varrus wanted a faction that followed Silvermoon's lead.
In this regard, he was taking heavy inspiration from the Covenant in Halo. With the High Elves occupying a position similar to the Prophets, and the allied races acting as their agents.
The races he had in mind were the Kobolds, Ogres, Goblins, Wildhammer Dwarves and the surviving Humans of Lordaeran.
Kobolds, for example, would make for excellent resource gatherers, and were gullible enough to obey whoever wore the biggest candle on their head. They would fill the role of Grunts in this scenario. Bonus, they were afraid of the dark, and could possibly be brought into the fold/controlled via Light based religion.
In a fight, Kobolds weren't very impressive, yet arm them with a pick and some explosives, and they could become the deadliest of sappers. No fort or castle could withstand them. People didn't have a very high opinion of the rodents, and neither did Varrus. However, logistics was logistics, and Kobolds mined just as good or better than any Dwarf. He was sure he could round up a few packs if he went searching near some abandoned mines.
Ogres were big, stupid, magic resistant, and strong as heck. They filled the role of Brutes. They loved smashing stuff, and were built like tanks. A tribe made their home in Alterac Valley, and Varrus figured he might be able to convince them with a combination of brainwashing their leader (like Sylvanas had done) if he went the evil route. OR he might be able to feed them a ludicrous amount of food. Heck, he may not need to resort to any foul play if the food was good enough.
Ogres were known to be hired on as mercenaries, even to Humans, so it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. And if he knew Ogres, he knew that they loved gorging themselves full. They were considered a race of morons, but hey, apparently police weren't accepted if their IQ went beyond a certain threshold too. The best kind of enforcers were the type that wouldn't ask questions, and were just there for the pay. Ogres properly motivated by food could become the perfect frontline thugs Varrus was looking for.
Goblins were a no-brainer. Occupying the spot of jackals or engineers, Goblins were as mercenary as it got. As long as you had money, and a contract, you could be assured of their loyalty. Varrus considered them to be a combination of the Hunters and the Engineers. Basically, Goblins brought guns, cannons and mechs to the table as well as some very unconventional weapons. As for payment, gold would not be a problem. For one, the valuables of hundreds of thousands of Highborn literally became free real estate. If that option wasn't available, then Varrus would eventually learn a spell that literally turned someone into gold coins, or could always transmute iron into gold.
Goblins were crazy, but sometimes you needed crazy to pull off an impossible mission. In particular, Varrus was interested in the Goblin company that held on during the siege of Orgrimmar. Those Goblins were badass, and fought to the death! Grommash hadn't recruited them to his banner in this timeline, and if it was up to Varrus, he never would.
The Wildhammer Dwarves rode gryphons, and tossed magical electric hammers just like Thor, the God of Thunder. Like Elites from Halo, they could drop down on the enemy, kill a group of enemies twice their number, and disappear towards the next group of enemies in a flash. They were loud, bodacious, twice as strong as the average man, and shared a common enemy, the Amani Trolls. Canonically, the Amani would suffer a colossal defeat after the destruction of the Sunwell. If Varrus could pivot that into a Elf achievement, he could team up with the Wildhammer, and sway them to his cause.
Unlike the Ironforge Dwarves, the Wildhammer were also big on shamanism, and could be promised loot/knowledge that only the Trolls possessed. They would be the most difficult to convince, but once they were sworn in, they would prove to be the most loyal of allies. Varrus figured there was no further explanation needed for why he would want them as allies, Dwarves were badass.
Lastly, both the members of the Silver Hand, and Scarlet Crusade would make for prime allies and subordinates. Despite his misgivings, Varrus was a Human at heart, and hated to see them suffer. If Varrus wanted to secure his new peoples place in the world, finding a faction of Humans to collaborate with was a must. Ravaged by plague, the Humans of Lordaeron suffered just as much as the Highborn-or more-and share in religion, magical knowledge and culture. Varrus was interested in a few of their Heroes, and was impressed by the somewhat large number of survivors that managed to survive the zombie apacolypse. Events such as these tended to bring out the strongest, and most resilient of humanity to the fore. Despite their seeming weakness, the Humans of the Eastern Kingdoms managed to launch a campaign on Northrend, and had held out against both the Scourge under Kel'Thuzad, and Sylvannas' Forsaken for years.
Additionally, the Scarlet Crusade at this time was lead by the wielder of the Ash Bringer, Alexandros motherfucking Mograine. The dude was a beast, and would make for a solid ally. Not to mention, his youngest son was so OP, he eventually ended up becoming the leader of all the Death Knights. Since Varrus was about 2-5 years before the start of WoW, there would be time to save Alexandros from the Dreadlord Mal'Ganis. Additionally, the survivors of Lordaeroan could serve as the primary infantry against both the Scourge, and Forsaken. In a world where the Covenant incorporated Humans into their army, the Silver Hand + Scarlet Crusade working together would serve as the ultimate front line force in this union of power. With their staunch devotion to the Light, Varrus was confident he could sway them to his side by performing powerful spells from the Restoration skill tree.
As for why he didn't include the Forsaken on this list of allies/vassals, despite Sylvannas, an undead High Elf being their leader? Because that crazy bitch had a revenge boner 22in long, and coerced the Blood Elves into fighting in Northrend! Regent Lor'Themar after winning the fight in Outland during the Burning Crusade wanted nothing more than to chill out, and gather his forces to rebuild. Sylvannas had no chill, and said 'if you don't invade Northrend, I'm coming for you first.' Talk about a lack of loyalty!
Quite frankly, Varrus couldn't trust that a zombie wouldn't snap, and go all 'brains! brains!' on him. How many of the Forsaken had extreme PTSD, and didn't give a fuck anymore? Because if Putrice could gleefully sacrifice hundreds of his own allies during Wotlk with chemical weapons, then that wasn't the kind of friend Varrus wanted to team up with. Maybe they could make for temporary allies, but he would always have to be on the lookout for a poisoned arrow in the back. After his experience with the Scourge, Varrus came to the conclusion that the only good Undead was permanently dead.
But before he even thought about joining another faction, or starting one, he needed to secure Silvermoon first.
To bolster his own people, he would endeavor to invest in things like arcane: grenades, mines, automatic defense towers, golems, artillery, abusing teleportation, and flying ships/flying island fortresses.
Varrus was so excited planning out future political machinations, he didn't notice his hair getting tugged until he felt a small pain at the root of his scalp.
His wife was glaring at him like a kitten demanding attention.
"Come here." Varrus pointed at his lap.
Syra shifted over the bed sheets, and rested on his crotch.
Facing her back, Varrus began to rub her shoulders.
"Oh!" Syra squeaked at the sudden contact.
Varrus grinned as he began to work on an especially tight knot on her back.
Syra squirmed back and forth, and started to rock on his lap, forcing his cock to rise at full mast.
Ignoring his erection, Varrus only focused on pleasuring his wife.
Years of massaging his elderly aunts was beginning to pay off as Syra became putty in his grip.
As his elbow dug into her shoulder, Syra leaned back into his chest, and rested her head beneath her chin.
She then gripped both his hands, and swung their hands together slowly like a swing.
Varrus sat there, and basked in the warmth of the sun, and the softness of Syra's body. Closing his eyes, Varrus took in her scent, and let out a long content exhale.
Cliche as it was, this is what he would fight for. He didn't know if he loved her, but he was willing to give it a try. She obviously cared for him to the point she threatened her mother. Not to mention she was pretty, cute, and surprisingly innocent.
Varrus felt his headrest drop down, and he almost fell forward, only to be caught by Syra's powerful grasp. However, her strength seemed to leave her, and Varrus looked on in concern.
"Am fine." Syra said weakly between a mumbled breath.
Varrus frowned, then remembered he never did top her up on mana. She must still be suffering from mana withdrawals!
Any horniness fled his system as concern over Syra's wellbeing took priority.
"Bask in the Light, and try to absorb some of its mana my love. In the meantime, I will make some Mana Stones. This time I will be the one to protect you." Varrus said firmly.
"Don't overdo it." Syra said with an obviously forced smile.
Varrus felt pain in his heart, then weakly smiled back at her.
"I won't, don't worry about me." Varrus gave her a peck on the cheek, and then moved to the side of the bed in preparation to create more Mana Stones.
Restoring the Sunwell just got personal.
Now, not only did he want to restart the Sunwell, but he also wanted to help feed his people's magic addiction. Especially those taking refuge in his estate. If he could get them sated, then he could team up with them, and clear Silvermoon out of the undead. At the same time, he would greatly enhance his prestige, enhancing his agenda.
Taking a look at his spells, Varrus tried to map out the most efficient way to provide for both his wife/people, and his goal of restoring the Sunwell.
The Mana Stone had five ranks, and without any perks reducing the cost, it looked like so:
Mana Stone (novice) produce: 10 mana, cost: 9 mana, 1.2 second cast time
Mana Stone (apprentice) p: 100 mana, cost: 90 mana 5s cast
Mana Stone (adept) p: 1,000 mana, cost: 900 mana, 10s cast
Mana Stone (expert) p: 10,000 mana, cost: 9,000 mana, 15s cast
Mana Stone (master) p: 100,000 mana, cost: 90,000 mana, 20s cast
The experience he gained in Alteration from making the apprentice stone was worth about as much exp as making an iron dagger.
When taking into account his status of Magically Inclined, allowing him to learn magic skills 25% faster, he would max out his Alteration level after making about (originally 2400~) 1,800~ stones. After doing the math, Varrus figured he should be able to get to 100 Alteration after roughly 2hrs, 30 minutes of nonstop labor.
When Varrus made his first Mana Stone of the day however, he was surprised to see that the experience yield was higher than anticipated.
Checking his status once more, he discovered a new development.
Lovers Comfort: Skills improve 15% faster for 8hrs.
Since he had slept in a bed with his spouse, he gained a new buff.
Now to get to Alteration 100, it would only take him roughly 1,440 stones, or 2hrs.
Glancing at his wife, Varrus silently thanked her, and nodded at her as she stared unblinkingly at him.
Smile turning slightly awkward at the intense staring, Varrus turned off his brain, and began the mind numbing task of churning out Mana Stones.
Just like tediousness at work, Varrus moved his body like a machine. Every three casts would drain him of his mana. He would then consume one stone for himself, hand one to Syra, then throw the remaining one into a corner of the room.
Rinse and repeat for half an hour, and he could finally lock in the perk Intuitive Magic (2) - novice and apprentice spells of any school cost 100% less Magicka to cast.
Now, he would hand one stone to his wife, and stockpile two in the corner.
With her ever increasing amount of mana, Syra began to perform nude stretches in front of a mirror.
She seemed to notice Varrus watching her as he spammed Mana Stone creation, and she began to make some funny faces at him in her reflection.
Since Varrus was channeling a spell, and couldn't move, it wasn't like he couldn't talk, or watch something. He just didn't want to get distracted and have any time loss. However, since he didn't have to time his consumables to top up, and just cast the spell every 5 seconds, he amused himself with Syra's antics.
The buxom blonde started doing kicks, flips, and all sorts of acrobatics. Her curves jiggled in all the right places, and the light sheen of sweat coating her thighs almost broke Varrus' willpower.
It was the gym all over again. There was just something about the way a woman moved while exercising that set his heart ablaze.
Varrus shut his eyes so that he wouldn't be tempted to stop his grind. His breath hitched, and he felt his arm get pinpricks, because even though he had his eyes closed, Syra's exercising body was seared into his brain.
Biting his lip, Varrus opened his eyes, only to see his wife hunched over, and looking at him from no more than a couple inches away.
Her face took on a mischievous grin as she looked down, then looked back up to him.
What was so funny down ther-"Oh very funny." Varrus remarked sarcastically.
His robes were beginning to expand near the waistline as a stiffy started to form, and there was nothing he could do abou-"are you mad woman?!"
While he was pretty sure nothing would happen from being fondled while he cast magic, this wasn't a game! Miscasts were real, and could cause anything from something serious like explosions to something harmless like a change in hair color! People who miscast Blink, for example, would splice themselves in half!
Varrus weakly protested with a muttered groan as Syra reached her hand onto his shaft, and began jerking him off.
"I believe in you. You are a big strong man, and I am a helpless maiden. If you can cast magic while I distract you, you won't ever miscast on the battlefield." Syra whispered seductively in his ear, and gave him a little nibble.
Varrus wanted to squirm in her grip, but channeling magic was a precise art, and until he got the perk allowing movement, he was bound in place.
"Do your worst." Varrus hissed between gasps of pleasure.
Syra wordlessly kissed him on the lips, and began to breath heavily into his ear.
She then lowered herself to her knees, and began slowly, painfully, tortuously, licking the side of his shaft.
"Hah, hah." Varrus panted, and closed his eyes trying to force himself to endure, and enjoy his wife's love for as long as possible.
Syra started to flick his dick, gently caress his balls, and even gently place her teeth on the side of his shaft. He could feel her saliva coat his dick, and he desperately wanted to shove it down her throat, but his concentration was key. He had to persevere, his man pride wouldn't allow him to give in just like that!
After 15 minutes of soft foreplay/edging, Syra began to pout, and looked up at Varrus with a pitiful look.
Varrus let loose a grin full of false bravado down at Syra as her edging play had failed to make him cum. He was almost there a dozen times, but he was holding out just for this occasion.
"You're good Syra, but if you want to finish me off, you'll have to do better than that." Varrus smiled, then felt his hips get gripped from behind.
Syra placed the tip of his dick on her tongue, and very slowly lapped up his head.
Precum began to drip onto the corner of her mouth, and dribble down the side of her chin.
The erotic scene turned Varrus on even more, and his dick began to bob up and down in excitement as he orgasmed. His cum sprayed all over Syra's face, and fell upon her chest.
Syra giggled into her hand, then wiped her face clean with a towel. She then raised an eyebrow suggestively at Varrus' hardon, then went back to practicing martial arts like nothing had happened.
Varrus' heart was in turmoil. He was raring, and raging to go further, but checking his progress bar, he was very close to 100.
Who knew time would go so fast while he spent it with his beautiful wife?
A little while later, Varrus had finally hit 100 in Alteration, leveled up to 25 upping his total mana to 350, and placed several perks in the Alteration tree.
They were all pretty powerful, but there were a few that deserved mentioning.
This set of perks made Varrus a near unkillable demon. Especially Distorted Shape + the spell Ocato's Recital. Ocato' Recital allowed him to chain 3 beneficial spells to activate when he enters combat at no mana cost. He could preload Ebony Flesh, Invisibility, and Battletide basically becoming invincible.
Honestly, Varrus couldn't wait to cast the Acceleration Rune. Nothing was more satisfying than watching your enemy yeet themselves off a cliff, or into the horizon.
Perks:
Mage Armor (3) - Protection spells like Stoneflesh are 100/150/200% stronger if not wearing armor.
Geomancer - If wearing robes and no light or heavy armor, you take 30% less damage from attacks while charging or concentrating on a spell.
Distorted Shape - When you gain an armor spell in combat (or enter combat with an active armor spell), you become intangible and unable to be affected by spells or attacks for 10 seconds or until you perform an offensive or defensive action.
Ocato's Recital: Stores the (beneficial self-targeted non-concentration) spell in your left hand and casts it for no cost whenever you enter combat. Up to 3 spells. Empty left hand to reset.
Battletide: Steals 80 points of armor rating from each nearby target for 30 seconds. The caster gains the total amount stolen.
Energy Shield - If wearing robes and no light or heavy armor, reduces incoming attack and elemental damage by 35% but you lose Magicka equal to the amount of Health lost. The damage reduction gradually diminishes as Magicka falls below half. The energy shield is disabled when your hands are lowered.
Next was Vancian Magic. Varrus often asked himself, why would he want to lock himself into 20 spells a day when he took a look at this perk. However, those 20 spells cost zero mana to cast! He would be able to make 20 Mana Stone (Master) with double the power (due to the perk) + the 2x increase from dual casting! That was 400,000 mana a stone! He didn't have a rest feature to reset the 20 spells upon sleep, but so long as he put in the perk point at 100 Alteration, he could bust out 20 Master tier Mana Stone's, then legendary the skill. After refunding his perks, he could then grind for 2 hours to get 100 Alteration, then rinse and repeat!
Vancian Magic - Cast magic like the wizards of old. Your next 20 spells do not use mana, and are twice as effective. When you run out of spells, your resistances increase by 25%.
Lastly, he may not even need Vancian. Because of Welloc's Dormant Arcana, he could choose to fortify Alteration while under an armor spell. Meaning he could reduce his Alteration mana cost to zero! He would be able to spam Master Alteration spells! Furthermore, if he did that during Home Mythal, he could basically pump out Mana Stone (Master) limitlessly.
Home Mythal - Summons a permanent magical field at the location where you learn this perk. Alteration spells gain x2 duration if cast within 5000 feet, and x20 duration if cast within 250 feet.
Welloc's Dormant Arcana - Choose a spell type (Armor, Cloak, Conjure Daedra, Conjure Undead, Invisibility) and 3 magic effects (Fortify, Regenerate, Waterwalking, ...). The chosen magic effects will activate when you are affected by the chosen spell type.
Now that he had seemingly cheesed the system, he wouldn't have to scrape by when casting Alteration spells. If he did his math right, he could literally summon enough Mana Stones to conjure 999,999,999 mana in a single day.
Not that he would so soon. The longer the High Elf population remained dependent on him, the stronger his position would be.
While Varrus was considering how to best utilize his spell repertoire, the door to his room slammed open.
"Get dresse-" His mother-in-law, Faedra's mouth opened and began to spit scorn, when she stopped halfway and began to spasm in place as she took in the literal mountain of Mana Stones piled high in the corner of the room.
Without hesitation, she walked past them, uncaring of their nudity, and grasped a stone in her hand.
After crushing one, pure mana coursed into her veins, and she madly began to crush ten more until she was satisfied.
Faedra turned to Varrus. with a calculating look in her eye. She then cast a spell that muffled sound from leaving the room.
Varrus looked on in interest as she cast her spell. He wondered if it was possible to modify his Skyrim spell to encompass a room like this?
"Well done, I am impressed. I apologize for my earlier rudeness my dear boy, but I was rather panicked given our current situation. Oh, and congratulations on consummating your marriage, I've always wanted to be a grandmother." Faedra said as if she was some concerned family member who was apologizing for a minor mistake.
Which was weird, because she was a family member, and she had made a mistake.
Not only that, but the rolls had reversed, and now Faedra was seemingly ignoring her daughter, and giving all her attention to him.
Varrus considered calling her out on her blatant bullshitiry, but was hesitant to burn bridges with her.
As much of a bitch as she was, she was still his mother-in-law. Secondly, she did come in clutch with the golems, and literally saved the day, so he could let some bs slide.
Much like other family members he disliked on Earth, so long as she didn't cross his bottom line, he would humor her.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure you always wanted to be a grandmother. Now enough, why are you so interested in my Mana Stones?"
"Why my dear boy, surely you made so many for a reason? With all these people weak and defenseless due to mana sickness, it is our duty, nay, our honor to rescue them!" Faedra said with a wicked grin.
Varrus paused. He had considered that.
"Think about it. Silver, gold? What use is that shiny mineral when we have pure power in our grasp!" Faedra said in excitement as she began to pace the room. She then paused beside Varrus's ear, and lowered her voice to the softest whisper. "He who controls the mana controls it all."
"Mother." Syra said one word, and Faedra backed off.
Faedra took a long look at the Mana Stones, then turned to a guard outside the door. "Bring me crates, and lots of them!"
She then gave Varrus and Syra a piercing look.
"A meeting is being held in the ballroom where we are to discuss the next course of action. This gift will go a long way in cementing our already dominant position. Do not waste this opportunity." Faedra's cultured voice brooked no room for disagreement.
She then dramatically twirled around, however her performance was ruined as her gaze was drawn to the pile of Mana Stone's being loaded into a container. She seemed to barely contain herself as she balled her hands into fists, then marched away.
'Damn, as vile as she is, Faedra wasn't wrong.'
If he wanted to build his influence, this was the way.
Sighing to himself, Varrus very deliberately looked down at the floor as Faedra sashayed out of the room.
"Better." Syra said in a sickly sweet voice, and then raked her nails across Varrus's arm almost to the point of drawing blood.
Varrus scowled at the pain, and wanted to slap her hand away, but held himself back. One day he'd show her who wore the pants in the family, but for now, he still had to rely on her overwhelming strength.
Syra responded with a radiant smile, and a deep kiss on the lips.
'Well, maybe it wasn't so bad being pantless.' Varrus thought to himself as he leaned into the kiss, and gently nestled his forehead against hers. An erection sprang forth, and began to eagerly press into her belly as he embraced her.
"Lead on Lord Vandercross." Syra said breathlessly as she pulled away, then slipped her clothes on.
Varrus looked up at the ceiling and let out a repressed groan. "Fuuuuck." Closing his eyes, he sighed, then jumped out of bed. He quickly found himself a handsome crimson robe with black highlights to wear, then walked out of the room.
Arms linked with Syra, Varrus followed behind his mother-in-law toward the ballroom.
They went down many corridors before arriving at a balcony that overlooked the room.
Varrus felt parched as he realized he would be speaking from a position of authority to such a large crowd.
However, a reassuring squeeze from Syra brought him back to reality and he gave her a smile.
Before he walked onto the balcony, he heard soothing, classical music coming from a band of enchanted instruments, and Faedra addressing the crowd down below.
"Their heroism needs no introduction, yet some may not know their names. Their family founded this city with the Convocation of Silvermoon, and they maintain this sacred duty of guarding our people to this day! Introducing Highlord Varrus Vandercross and his wife, Lady Syra Vandercross!" Faedra began to clap, then half turned toward Varrus/Syra, and beckoned them forward.
Varrus stepped onto the balcony, and felt a wave of applause slam into him.
Looking down, Varrus easily counted at least 200 people. Many of them looked familiar, especially the arcane wizard who used magic missiles. They were all dressed in colorful clothes, and held glasses containing some sort of spirit.
If Varrus didn't know better, he would think he was hosting some New Year's gala, not planning out their next move of survival!
Leave it to the fucking smug elves to act with high class British decorum during a crisis! Varrus imagined this must've been what it was like for the passengers on the Titanic before they realized how fucked they truly were. It would surely be a cold wakeup call once they learned 90% of the Highborn were dead…
Speaking of which.
"How many people did we save?!" Varrus turned to Faedra and questioned.
"2,872. However, only those who fought the Scourge earned the right to attend." Faedra responded in a critical tone.
Once the applause died down, an awkward silence descended upon Varrus's shoulders.
During this awkward pause, Faedra stepped forward. "Lord Vandercross has been hard at work, hardly resting overnight for the sake of the people."
"We know, we heard it all night!" Someone in the crowd heckled, and the responding laughter helped ease the tension in the room.
Despite that, Varrus could visibly see how weak and lethargic they had become. If this lasted much longer, they would turn twisted and deformed, and become one of the vile Wretched.
"Yes, they are doing their part to rebuild our glorious race, as did a fair few of you last night." Faedra let the burn sink in before she kept speaking.
"But I speak of another work, one not needed since the Highborn fled Kalimdor, and were bereft of mana until the founding of the Sunwell, I speak of the Vandercross Mana Stone!" Faedra said with great drama, and righteousness, then signaled to a guard down below.
The guard cracked open a box full of blue gems. When piled together, they gave off an effervescent blue aura.
All laughter and mockery within the hall died down as every single mana addict's attention was drawn to the shiny blue rocks spilled on the floor.
Faedra then nudged Varrus in the side.
"Protectors of Silvermoon, I present to you your just reward! House Vandercross entreats you to partake in the richest feast in Highborn history!" Varrus' consent to the High Elves was like releasing a hound for the hunt.
The 200+ High Elves rushed the Mana Stones, and began to gorge themselves full.
Several people were pushed, and a few fell down, or were decked in the face.
The previous scene of champagne decorum was blown away in the face of satisfying their urges.
"Savages. Watch and learn so that you may never become like them. That is why we lead, and they follow." Faedra said from the side.
Varrus gave her an amused look as only 15 minutes earlier, she had gone into a frenzy of her own over his stones.
After 10 minutes, the ballroom had settled down, and the people radiated an eagerness greater than any sports fan.
If before, the people looked up at the balcony in interest, and slight hero worship at his wife, Varrus now had a taste of that zeal as they directed their hopeful gazes almost exclusively at him.
It was a heady, intoxicating feeling to be relied upon by so many people. Although, he would need to make bigger Mana Stones, and fast, otherwise he wouldn't be able to sustain the elven population, and restore the Sunwell.
While most combatants only needed 2 Mana Stones, the arcane mage, and the House Guard needed 4 each. There were about 400 leftover from the original 1,200.
Fortunately he had cracked the code, and could make whatever he needed. Worst case scenario, he handed out larger stones, and had the people do a sort of communal feeding. Or perhaps he could shave off pieces of a larger stone so he didn't have to spend so much time making smaller denominations.
Varrus was brimming with excitement, and began to discuss his short term plan to the people in the ballroom.
"With everyone's recovery, we must begin clearing out the city of undead, and searching for survivors. However, let it be known, Mana Stones are for the worthy. Those who slink and cower in fear, in the face of our annihilation are no better than the enemy! I freely give these Mana Stones to you who deserve it! However, I am not a tyrant. I will give those who refuse to fight five days to find their courage, and provide for them the mana they so crave. Five days to learn from true heroes!" Varrus finished by spreading his arms wide.
On que, the House Guard slammed their blades on their shields and chanted the family name.
"Vandercross!"
"Vandercross!"
"Vandercross!"
Varrus smiled, and basked in the applause. The first hit would be free. Once they had a taste, Varrus would be surprised if any of the 2,000+ refugees refused to pick up a spell book, bow, or sword.
It was hard to believe so many people centuries or even thousands of years old didn't know any offensive magic. Hopefully it was a case of how people on Earth learned a lot in school, but forgot a good portion of it as they didn't need to know it anymore. Like Varrus still remembered some basics about the periodic table and cell biology, but if he had to bet his life on those memories to save himself from a zombie horde, he'd be fucked. After some refresher studying, the High Elves would hopefully pick up some old spells again.
When the crowd calmed down, Varrus started acting theatrical once more.
"My wife and I will be counting on you brave protectors while we lead from the front. However, let it be known, it is your valiant efforts that will secure our people's future. For Quel'Thalas, for Silvermoon!"
"For Quel'Thalas, for Silvermoon!" The crowd repeated.
"Thank you, please stick around to discuss with Faedra, my mother-in-law, so that we may better organize ourselves in this rescue effort. We shall set off in one hour!" Varrus passed the ball into Faedra's court, much to her seeming appreciation, then walked off with Syra to do some more last minute grinding.
[Speech +1]
"The House Guard is recruiting, and pay is 2 additional Mana Stones, space is limited…" Varrus heard Faedra say as he walked back to his room.
As Varrus walked down the hallway, he felt like there was more to this estate than met the eye, and his memories unconsciously led him to his father's study.
His necklace briefly flared up, and a magical ward on the door came undone.
Entering the room, Varrus saw bookcases filled with maps, reports, contracts, land deeds, and more centered around a giant oak table.
Ignoring the paperwork, Varrus approached one particular bookcase, and muttered some elvish nursery rhyme.
The bookcase disappeared, and revealed a passage lit by Mana Stones lining the ceiling. Syra still in hand, Varrus confidently entered, and came to another door at the end.
There was an orb on a pedestal at the end of the passage, to which Varrus placed his hand upon, and injected some mana.
The wall besides the door shimmered, and revealed a vault filled with treasures and collectibles.
Things were neat, orderly, and came with a label describing their nature.
There were banners of the Horde, Alliance, and gear matching their soldiers. 'Perfect for staging a false flag operation' Varrus idly thought.
That was the tip of the iceberg, however, as there was much, much more. 10,000 years of accumulation had filled this vault to the brim.
Backpacks that could hold more than their size suggested hung on the side. A money pile of nothing but gold coins formed a small Scrooge McDuck swimming pool. Magical doodads, and corrupted looking chaosy shit were locked behind translucent cages.
Six Mana Stones the size of a small boulder were stacked against the wall. The size of these stones were similar to the vague picture he saw when he concentrated on the Master tier Mana Stone in the Skyrim UI. From Novice to Master, the stones would gradually increase in size.
Performing a quick 20 second cast, Varrus conjured up a Mana Stone worth 200,000 mana. When it showed up in his inventory, it had a weight of 20, and looked identical to the ones on the ground.
Varrus idly noted that these specific Mana Stones were often used to power Arcane Towers. When he did eventually distribute Master tier Mana Stones, he could use the excuse that they came from the family treasury so as to create the illusion of a controlled economy.
At one section of the facility were wands, staves, and robes. There were a handful of enchanted swords, daggers, and two sets of plate armor.
However, not one bow or set of light armor was in sight. In contrast, there were dozens more robes. It was clear which direction his family ancestors leaned. In fact, if memory served true, there was a bit of a political schism between the Vandercross and the Windrunners-another family on the Convocation who often headed the Rangers.-
However, he was in desperate need of some magical attire, and pushed these messy political thoughts to the side.
Picking out what he wanted was a no brainer due to his inherent trait Mana Sense.
Going to the robe with the strongest magical fluctuation, he unhooked himself from Syra, much to the look of displeasure she directed at him.
Varrus ignored her, and slipped the robe on.
"Ah." Varrus gasped as he felt an overwhelming amount of mana course through him.
He had to turn back, and wave off his wife in reassurance, then eagerly went to check his apparel slot.
[Patriarch's Robe: +20 intelligence, +10 stamina, +10 spirit, Magic Ward: Slows incoming attacks within 10ft by 25%]
Looking at his health, and stamina, they had all increased by 100, with his -10% debuff, he had a total of 180hp. Whereas his mana was now increased by 200, for a maximum of 450 mana! He could finally cast a Master tier spell from Alteration!!! As for spirit, Varrus cast a few harmless, yet mana expensive spells, and saw his mana bar fill up twice as fast as normal.
Unfortunately there were no magic rings, necklaces, shoes, gloves or spell books to be seen. He would have to check out the library later, and learn spells native to this world. Blink especially came to mind when it came to OP Warcraft spells.
Despite the lack of enchanted jewelry, he still had a staff and a wand to collect.
Varrus then excitedly gripped the most magically inclined staff.
[Power Stick: Increase spell power by 1 (scales off skill level)]
While equipped with the staff, all of his spells had a flat dmg increase based on his skill level! If he could find an enchantment that increased any of his skills above 100, then the Power Stick would really shine.
For example, his basic Novice spells did 10 dmg. But because his Destruction skill was at 20, they now did 30dmg!
That was a lot of damage! His basic Unbound Fire did 10 dmg, and took 2-3 to kill a basic, unarmored zombie. It splashed off an abomination, absolutely useless. This staff could now empower him to one-shot most basic zombies.
In short, this staff was OP!
Varrus then gripped Syra in a bear hug, and planted a wild, wet kiss on her lips in his excitement.
So this is what it felt like to be a prodigal son!
When he went to go try out the wand, his wife pulled him back into her embrace, and refused to let go.
He looked down, and shook his arm signaling for her to let him go, but her smile only widened.
"Of course, I love having my beautiful wife accompanying me!" Varrus made sure to reassure his stab happy wife with a wide smile, and a squeeze on her hand.
Her grip slightly tightened, and Varrus knew he had dodged a bullet.
Walking toward the wands-Syra in tow-Varrus picked one up, and was happy with its effects.
[Wand of Incadescence: Releases a bolt of lightning for 100 dmg. Charge: 500/50,000 (5 uses)]
This lightning bolt was equivalent to some adept or expert level spells. Varrus fancied it could threaten an abomination or would especially be useful against flying units.
Varrus tried to refill it with a Mana Stone, and it seemed to work! He didn't need to get a Soul Stone to recharge his weapon.
Satisfied with his haul, Varrus grabbed himself an enchanted sword and daggers then took another look at the gear before leaving.
He then took a handful of interesting objects, and placed then within the Deep Storage spell. An Alteration pocket space spell that contained an infinite pocket space.
One day, he hoped to disenchant everything that wasn't of much use to him, and make even stronger equipment.
Before he left, Varrus snagged a pair of arm guards as an afterthought that he caught Syra looking at, and wordlessly presented them to her.
"So attendant to my needs. My handsome husband knows me well." Syra happily chirped as she equipped the new gear.
Varrus sweated down the back of his spine, and maintained his silence before returning to his room. He had about half an hour remaining, he might as well make some Master tier Mana Stones.
After he finished his grinding session, Varrus stored most of the stones in his Deep Storage, and held onto some in his inventory so he could top off his mana at any time.
"It's been an hour, Lord Vandercross." A House Guard said as he knocked on the door.
"Thank you, please come in."
Varrus called out to the pair of House Guards, and had them smash a boulder sized Mana Stone into smaller shards, and place the remains in a crate.
"Distribute this to the people outside." Varrus instructed.
"It will be done." A guard nodded, then took the crate out with his fellow.
Before he went out, Varrus tried placing his staff on his back, like characters in the games, and he felt a small magnetic attraction between his robe and staff.
'That actually worked!?' Varrus thought to himself in surprise.
Shaking off his shock, Varrus turned to Syra, and held out his hand.
"Let's go."
Walking hand in hand with his wife, Varrus exited the palace for the first time since waking up in this world.
The square stank of burnt flesh, and a fire still burned as countless bodies were being tossed onto a pyre by a pair of golems.
At the other side of the square, a line had formed, and the lethargic civilian population were regaining their energy as they consumed Varrus' gift.
Some couldn't get over their depression, and rocked on the ground, lost in the horrors of PTSD.
On the other hand, a few hundred Highborn were hard at work practicing with a weapon, or muttering to themselves as they studied spell matrices.
As he entered the far end of the square, he spotted a contingent of roughly 50-100 warriors, rangers, paladins, priests and mages. Alongside them were another 300 refugees.
One of the House Guard was among them, and he waved Varrus over.
"Guardsman, this is the group that will help in the search for survivors?" Varrus said while directing a suspicious glance at the 300 refugees.
"When word of your terms reached the refugees, some despaired, others stepped forward." The guard replied.
Varrus merely raised an eyebrow in skepticism.
"You need not worry Lord Vandercross. I vetted them myself. Many were too traumatized last night, and were unable to remember the words to a spell, or couldn't find a weapon to fight with. After my tests, I confirmed that they are eligible for combat." The guard said.
"Hmm, good work. Take this as your reward." Varrus nodded at the guard, then handed over a few small Mana Stones.
The guard gave a shallow bow, then stood beside Varrus, and turned to address the crowd.
"Alright, listen up! Highlord Vandercross is the sole heir to his father, and thus has assumed the mantle of a member of the Convocation of Silvermoon! Young he may be, but the Vandercross family have proven themselves reliable in these dark times! Follow his and Lady Vandercross' lead, and we shall prevail!" The guard shouted, then stepped back behind Varrus.
Varrus nodded appreciatively at the man. He would have to make it an effort to know his name.
However, not all was peaches and sunshine.
The assembled Highborn all looked on quietly. Varrus felt their silent ridicule, as their years of long life implicitly carried the weight of judgment. Most of them didn't watch him fight, as they were too busy with their own struggles and gossip about the young Vandercross heir before the invasion painted him as a worthless prodigal.
The only thing he had going for him was that he fed their addiction. That, and the walking WMD he held in his palm right now.
In fact, Varrus saw several Highborn look like they were going to step forward and say something, but settled for a look of arrogance or disregard instead.
"To incentivise everyone present beyond the love for our country, and revenge for our kin, I am proposing a bounty! One Mana Stone for every five undead scalps! Five Mana Stone's for every Highborn corpse recovered and given a proper cremation here at the Vandercross Estate!" Varrus shouted at the assembled army.
He couldn't help but grin as any would-be naysayers dropped their acts of disdain, and began to show looks of interest.
Smug pricks.
Varrus bet a good portion of the 300 refugees could've fought during the battle last night, but had calculated on the situation, and decided upon a wait and see approach.
Here he was, trying to mobilize a force to free the city, and he was forced to play politics. A Highborn was the type to convince you his house was on fire, get your help to put it out, then place the blame at your head. While you rotted in prison, he would collect the insurance, and be banging your wife.
This of course was a gross exaggeration, but not too far off the mark. With their near limitless lives: gossip, drama, and politics were the center of Highborn society.
Hell, in Varrus' impression, half the soldiers of Quel'Thalas must be cosplaying or roleplaying the role for prestige or because they were bored, given how ineffective they were against Arthas.
Seeing that he had everyone's undivided attention, Varrus organized them into a formation. They were slow to move, and reluctant to follow his orders, but eventually got into position.
He placed the rangers on the wings to act as skirmishers. The center was a chevron with warriors and paladins at the front. He had then briefly practiced so that they could break ranks to leave an opening, and allow the mages to unleash a spell, then retreat behind/to the sides of the melee specialists. It was basic Conquistador musket tactics, but it would have to do. Finally, the priests would be with the mages, ready to heal anyone at a moment's notice.
At the tip of the chevron, Varrus led with his wife. He figured the safest place in any conflict would be by her side. While the tip would see the most action, it would also be the best place for him to unleash his power.
Before heading out, Varrus consulted a map. They were located near the city wall on the western side of Silvermoon, far from the Dead Scar of necrotic energies splitting the two halves of Silvermoon in half.
Most buildings were apartments, or palaces. In contrast, the eastern city held most of the shops, and government buildings. The western zone was primarily a vast park, rife with trees, gardens, farms, and shrubbery.
It was no wonder that of the 100,000+ undead that stormed the city, they only fought a thousand or two in their little corner.
Determined to sweep the area block by block, they finally left the square. When they did, Varrus grimly took in the heavily damaged cityscape.
Fire still burned buildings, and many sustained heavy scorch marks or had collapsed entirely.
Undead mindlessly roamed the streets, and there were seldom few inanimate corpses lying on the ground.
Internally, Varrus worried that most bodies had been stolen by Arthas to be raised into undeath, and taken on his next campaign.
While that was good news since it meant Silvermoon wouldn't have a million undead populating it, that just meant those undead would be a headache for another time.
While Varrus was feeling heavy hearted at the destruction, a reassuring squeeze on his hand brought him back to reality.
Facing his wife's radiant smile, Varrus couldn't remain depressed any longer.
Matching her smile, Varrus positioned his force at the end of a street. He then took the lead, and began attacking the mindless undead.
As soon as he entered combat, Ocato's Recital activated automatically, and an Ebony Flesh coated him instantly. He was also ethereal until he cast a spell or attacked.
He, along with the rangers and spellcasters began to unleash bolts of magic into any stray zombie or skeleton.
Their disorganized retaliatory charge made them easy pickings, and a hundred of them fell before they could make it to the Highborn line.
Some of the mages who sat out the fight last night were obviously trying to show off. About 20 mages stood out from the rest, and cast spells different from the average tennis sized fireball.
One dropped a rain of fireballs in an AOE the size of a sedan. His rain of fire decimated two dozen undead.
Another conjured up three water elementals, and sent them into the horde as suicide bombers.
Arcane explosions, and frosty howls rocked the street.
All the while, this group directed smug looks Varrus' way as he was busy leveling his Novice Destruction since he was so close to Apprentice.
With the increased spell power of his staff, every fireball of Unbound Fire would one shot these weak zombies, then the flames would spread to any enemy within 5ft of the slain foe.
The sound of battle drew the attention of even more, and soon a swarm of nearly a thousand undead came charging around the street corner, and emptying out of buildings.
As more and more undead began to mass, they came closer and closer to their line, and the mages/rangers were unable to stop all of them. This was because, despite their destructive power, the Highborn were slinging spells like they still had the Sunwell, and had been careless when managing their mana.
If they had staggered their attacks, and waited for regeneration in between, then the Highborn could've formed a constant rate of fire similar to a musket rotation. Instead, they blew their load early like a nervous man on his first date.
Syra reluctantly squeezed Varrus' hand, and was about to unsheath her buster sword to meet the rapidly closing enemy, when Varrus held her back.
"Trust me." Varrus smiled at her.
Syra looked longingly into his eyes, then matched his smile.
"I believe in my Lord."
Varrus felt lighter as Syra placed some sort of buff on him.
"Watch me." Varrus pecked Syra on the cheek, then turned his attention to the enemy.
Varrus then cast three spells in quick succession.
Tumble Magnet: Magnetic artifact that exists for 20 seconds, randomly pulling nearby enemies to the center.
Talons of Nirn: Whenever an enemy in the area is staggered, a spike of rock erupts from the ground, tossing the target and dealing 150 Stamina damage. Lasts 60 seconds.
Thrumming Stone: Magical vibrating rock that emits a tremor every 8 seconds, staggering enemies and reducing magic resistance by 40% for 2 seconds. Emits 5 pulses.
The oncoming horde of zombies were forced into this narrow street to charge at them, and were densely packed together.
When Varrus's spells entered the crowd, the zombies began to trip and fall over one another due to the Thrumming Stone.
When this happened, a jagged stone spear thick as an elephant's leg would erupt from the earth, and gore them from their backside out of their head.
Meanwhile, the Tumble Magnet pulled the zombies away from the line, slowing them en masse. They were then easy pickings for the mages and rangers.
Basic fireballs and magic arrows finally began to reemerge as the mages regained a bit of mana, and sprayed into the undead tide.
It was an absolute massacre.
After ten minutes, there were no more undead responding to the sound of their battle.
The smug looking pricks were noticeably quiet on this one!
Varrus made sure to make eye contact with several of them until they embarrassedly turned away. Some snorted, some huffed, one rolled her eyes, and a few even nodded in respect.
Progress!
However, seeing the state of lethargy his damage dealers were in, Varrus wouldn't leave them hanging while he was out in the field. There may be some assholes amongst his army, but at least they knew how to kill.
Varrus then opened his Deep Storage, and distributed some Mana Stones to the mages and rangers.
"Good work everyone. We'll set up some barricades here at the end of the street to act as a fallback point, and let the rangers search building by building for any survivors. If they find any, they can be escorted back to my estate. Once this street is all clear, we'll move on to the next block and repeat." Varrus gave the command, and the rangers moved more enthusiastically than when he first set out.
Varrus took this moment of free time to bask in the warmth of the sun, and enjoy his wife's embrace as he watched the army of irregulars construct a crude barricade.
He took in the ruined street, the burning corpses, and the once grand architecture.
Firming his brow, complex emotions assaulted his heart.
If he really was going to have twelve children with Syra, then he would make sure something like this never happened again.
Arthas just went to the top of his shit list.
"My man is big and strong, isn't he?" Syra said, and Varrus was about to preen at the compliment, when his wife's tone took a complete 180. "I see the way those women look at you, how dare you." Syra silently seethed.
'What women??? What does them looking at me have to do with us???' Question marks hovered over Varrus' head.
He very deliberately did not look around, and made sure to meet Syra's burning gaze.
"The only woman I see is you." Varrus butted his forehead onto hers, then raised her chin for a kiss on the lips.
"You better." Syra said as she embraced him.
He then heard several footsteps shuffle away in the direction Syra was looking.
'Nope! Don't know, don't care!' Varrus repeated to himself as an internal mantra as he gave his wife all his loving attention.
He was too young to die!
