章節 1: Chapter 1
Awakening to the smell of burnt smoke, and screams on the horizon, he snapped his eyes open in a panic.
Instincts screamed at him to jump out of bed, and do something, but a piercing headache sent him sprawling back into the sheets.
Memories of a second life flooded his mind. Of humans, orcs, and most importantly of his identity as one of the Highborn.
He was now Varrus Vandercross, a prodigal son of an important politician, and a blonde sexy elf male to boot. The explosion of knowledge straight to his brain had him seeing double, he almost missed the highlighted sentence hovering in the center of his vision.
[New Quest: Survive the Scourge Invasion of Silvermoon]
A familiar quest design similar to Skyrim's UI flashed across his eyes before fading into the background.
Survive what, exactly? The Scourge invasion? You mean the event that slaughtered 90% of the High Elf population?!
In a panic, Varrus thought about opening a menu. And one identical to the Skyrim UI appeared in his mind.
Varrus immediately attempted to save, yet all his attempts were met with a beep signaling denial. The options to save, load, wait, and fast travel had been grayed out! Additionally, the sounds of screams drew ever nearer! Time did NOT stop while he was in the menu!
Controlling the urge to hyperventilate, he quickly flicked over to the spells to see what he was working with.
It wasn't totally hopeless! He had access to every single spell, but the option to cast them were grayed out, as he didn't meet the skill/mana requirement.
Furthermore, Varrus noticed spells from the Apocalypse - Magic of Skyrim mod were present!
The novice spells Unbound Fire, and Bone Spirit stood out to him as a life saving means to escape this catastrophe.
Unbound Fire was a Destruction spell in the form of a ball of fire about the size of an average volleyball, and had the chance to move to nearby enemies, or even attack the caster if he was close enough. It dealt 10 damage upon impact, and 25 as it spread.
Bone Spirit was a Restoration spell that launched a homing, exploding ghost of light that dealt 50 damage to the undead.
Varrus had no idea how damage would translate into this world. After all, according to his memories, this place was very real, and things like stats or levels didn't exist. He would have to wait and see when that time came.
Regardless of how numbers would affect the world around him, Varrus' attention was soon drawn to a small handful of new spells he had inherited from his new body.
The prodigal son, Varrus Vandercross knew a handful of quality of life spells such as Cleanse, Enchant Broom, Water Crops, and Create Mana Stone.
Out of all the spells, Create Mana Stone seemed the most promising, as there were variants from Novice all the way to Master. Labeled an Alteration spell, the Novice Mana Stone cost 9 Mana to create, and replenished 10. Varrus' memories were telling him it was an important family heirloom spell, but he didn't think much of it, and hurriedly moved on to the next part of his UI menu.
Glancing at a few more spells that caught his eye, Varrus took a look at the perks to see if there were any other changes.
When the perks came up, Varrus nodded his head at the Ordinator perk list. Some options were slightly adjusted, such as the word 'daedra' being replaced by 'demon,' or 'magicka' with 'mana,' but otherwise most perks remained the same.
He didn't know exactly what to specialize in at the moment, but Destruction, Restoration and Alteration were looking like his best bets for survival at the moment.
Deciding he didn't have time to dwell upon this, he directed his attention at his current status, and saw five effects.
Elf: -10%hp move 2.5x faster than a human, night vision, -95% fertility compared to a human.Sunwell: Unlimited vigor, 350% mana regeneration, near immortality.Magically Inclined: Learn magic skills 25% faster.Mana Sense: Track and feel the currents of mana around you.Vandercross Locket (locked): Ability: Family Authority: Unlock doors, and control turrets/golems on Vandercross property.
Taking all this into account, Varrus nodded his head, then began to think up a quick plan for survival.
In terms of plans for greatness, Varrus, like any good Skyrim player, was aware of the enchanting/alchemy infinite loop pipeline. However, his hopes would take a long time to come to fruition, as he came to a startling realization. All of the ingredients used in alchemy were another plane away, and he would have to painstakingly find substitutes by tasting every single plant across the planet. Likewise, acquiring grand soul gems would be much, much more difficult when he had to place his own neck on the line to seize them. Logistically, it was going to be a major pain in the ass to accomplish.
His plan for unlimited power canned for sometime down the line, Varrus was about to look into his menu further and see what kind of spell or perk could help him given his current circumstances, when he was snapped out of it when the door to his room was slammed open.
Varrus flinched at the sound, then hurriedly raised his hand ready to throw an offensive spell, only to pull back at the last instant as he recognized the woman.
The petite, busty, raven haired lady was his mother-in-law Faedra. She moved with grace, and glided into the room. The haughty air about her, and the way she carried herself spoke of self confidence, and in Varrus' mind, arrogance.
"Syra, lead your troops to guard the gate. I shall control the arcane tower. You shall buy time while I awaken the war golems." Faedra said in an imperious command that only the bitchiest, smuggest of women could utter.
Faedra was giving off strong Disney villain vibes, in fact given she was his mother-in-law, that somehow wasn't all too surprising.
'Wait, what, mother-in-law?! Then that means-' Varrus gasped aloud, then turned toward the other side of the room.
There, staring at him with an unblinking rabid intensity was Syra. His wife of all but one day. The buxom blonde bombshell ignored her mother's words, and seemed to have eyes only for Varrus.
Varrus opened, and closed his mouth. The entire time he had been sitting here staring at his menu, this hot elf had been giving him her full attention?!
"Syra dearest would you truly let your pet die while you stood idly by?" Faedra directed scorn laced with the deepest ridicule, and a tinge of faked pity at her daughter.
Unbidden, a huge double handed claymore, big like Guts' from Berserk, was easily raised in the blonde's hands, and pointed at her mother's chin.
Syra longingly looked Varrus in the eye, and didn't even blink as she silently threatened her own mother's life.
"Be a good girl now, I hope you remember your priorities." Faedra smiled sweetly, took a moment to glance disdainfully at Varrus, then twirled away.
Varrus caught sight of her shapely backside, and sighed in admiration.
A moment later, Varrus felt a weight upon his chest, and he was forced to roughly exhale.
Syra gripped his chin, and forced him to face her. She then lowered her head, and smashed her forehead against his.
A brief bubble of holy light covered her scalp, shielding her from any damage. Varrus unluckily felt a flash of pain, and saw stars for a moment.
She then roughly grabbed his long hair, and giggled as she played with it between her fingers. Syra then lightly flicked Varrus on the nose, and leaned down to kiss him.
Her breasts pressed against his chest, and her tongue explored his mouth.
All at once, Varrus felt himself begin to harden, and reached a hand out to grope a boob, but his wife formed a rope made of light magic, and bound it to the bedpost.
She smiled beautifully at him, then whispered in his ear.
"I will protect you, my love." Syra said as she pulled away toward the door.
The voice was soft, and sold her charm. He never would've imagined such an amazing girl would be into such rough foreplay.
"Of course, if you look at my mother like that again, I'll have to dig out your eyeballs." Syra said in a matter of fact voice as her hair blanketed her eyes.
"Ah ha." Varrus drily laughed as his spit became lodged in his throat.
Syra merely stared at him.
"That is to say, I love only my wife." Varrus plastered on a large, fake smile.
[Speech +1]
Syra in response leaned down closer, and took a deep whiff of his hair.
"I love, love, love you too Varrus." Syra said in response, and squeezed him in a bone crushing hug.
Varrus' eyes bulged as he felt his ribs begin to strain.
Good God, did he marry an amazon?!
"Lady Vandercross, we await your command!" An armored male elf saluted at the edge of the room.
Syra seemed to shiver like a cat content to stretch in the sun when the man addressed her as such.
Behind him, four more soldiers clashed their fists upon armored plate cuirasses. They then each drew swords shimmering blue with magical energy.
"I am yours Lord Vandercross, command me." Syra said huskily into his ear.
"You should go. We need-" Varrus halted as he saw Syra's hair cover her eyes once more.
Feeling momentary dread, Varrus was quick to run his mouth, and spit out some more corny dialogue.
"Ahem, you should go so that you may return sooner. My heart cannot take a moment that we spend apart! Go, Lady Vandercross, claim glory for our House! Do it for us, and our loving future together!"
Syra shivered atop Varrus's chest, then squeezed his face between her breasts.
"I shall endeavor to serve you for life my love, an eternity spent together is my dream. I shall do as my husband commands." She said, then plucked a lock of Varrus's blonde hair, and wrapped it around her wrist in a makeshift bracelet.
Dismounting Varrus, and walking toward the door, Syra turned back to wink at Varrus, and flashed him another smile.
"For House Vandercross!" Syra proudly declared as she left.
"For House Vandercross!" The soldiers replied in earnest.
Varrus didn't know if he should be frustrated that his hardon had nowhere to go, or relieved that his psycho wife had left the premises.
He didn't have much time to think about his lack of snu snu, because without his wife distracting him, the sound of screams outside sounded louder and nearer. They were accompanied by the distinctive clang of metal on metal.
At the same time that Varrus noticed the noise of combat, a steady thumping sound reverberated every 5 seconds. The noise was accompanied by a bright blue flash spilling into his room through the windows. He could feel the building slightly shudder and shake everything the light passed by.
Varrus could only assume that was the arcane tower his mother-in-law was talking about.
Taking a deep breath, Varrus knew he had to start killing zombies if he wanted a better chance at survival. He eyed the magical construct tying himself to the bed, and gave it a firm tug.
Other than hurting his wrist, nothing happened.
Varrus considered blasting the spell apart, but considering it was attached to his arms he quickly reconsidered.
"No wait, I'm stupid." Varrus said aloud, and slapped his forehead.
Reaching his free hand out, Varrus pointed at the bedpost, and cast the spell Hailstone.
His hand gathered mystical energies, and blue icy particles began to coalesce around his finger tips.
After taking a moment to aim, Varrus released his magic. A moment later, and the bedpost splintered sending ice and wood everywhere.
Using his heightened senses, Varrus just barely dodge rolled to the side, evading a lethally sharp arms length shiv of wood.
Patting dust and debris off his crimson robes, Varrus noted the golden handcuff was noticeably still attached.
Eyebrow twitching, he decided to ignore it for now, and distract himself with other thoughts. Such as how his mana bar regenerated to full within a second of casting his spell. Keeping this in mind, it was time for him to really go all out, and level up.
Taking a deep breath, Varrus walked toward a balcony that was at the edge of his very expensive and large room.
The balcony was huge, and could easily accommodate 50+ people. Varrus had memories of people partying up here, and of his father giving speeches.
His house was practically a small palace, or mansion. At the top of which was a pulsing tower of arcane energy. In front of his house was a large courtyard in the shape of a square, and two ancillary buildings on the left and right. The 3 buildings formed a U shape, and openly faced the main road.
Most of the undead horde (numbering over one hundred thousand) kept moving deeper into the city, but dozens to hundreds of them turned off from their main objective in an attempt to storm the palace.
Countless zombies rushed toward the tight gap of the front door, but were repelled by the five house guard.
Varrus remembered these five were veterans of the Second War, men who had fought orcs twice their size, and came out alive. Their experience showed in both their tactics and equipment.
The veterans' magic swords were like scythes during the harvest. They effortlessly and accurately aimed for limbs, joints, and exploited the vast openings presented by the mindless undead.
A group of ten zombies had swarmed one man, yet he moved like water. His precise steps had him minutely dodge each and every single swipe. While he dodged, he was not idle. His glowing sword flashed in an arc, and three heads were gone. The rest fell to his skill in short order. He wasn't alone, similar feats of precision were mimicked by his fellow warriors.
Their agility, despite the fact that they wielded such large shields, and wore plate armor, was a testament to their skill and martial athleticism.
Each man could hold their own against 10 zombies at a time, but where they truly shined were team tactics. Often, one man would leave himself seemingly open, then dodge at the very last millisecond, only to have his ally kill from behind. Their unreal coordination must've taken years of practice. Every seeming opening was covered by another man, and turned into an advantage.
The mindless Scourge were no chance for an intelligent soldier decked out in enchanted equipment.
Combine this amalgamation of skill x experience, then add on the unlimited vigor granted by the Sunwell, and these already skilled warriors turned into absolute beasts.
Only…Varrus frowned, where was his new wife?
His frown soon disappeared into an expression of shock.
There, within the center of the zombie horde, Syra was swiping her giant blade without a care in the world.
Her lightly armored anime-like appearance seemed to be doing something, because not only did she wield a buster sword like Guts, but she killed like Guts too!
Every time she would swing, a handful of zombies would be bisected. Countless rotten organs, and filthy blood splattered the ground rotten with black plague juices.
Additionally, a light aura surrounded her, burning any undead that managed to get close to her. Any black blood sizzled, and disappeared before it could touch her angelic form. Any body part would bounce away, or fly to the side, unable to impede her path.
And during it all, Syra was smiling, and wore a look of ecstasy on her face as she slaughtered her hapless opponents.
From Varrus' perspective, the look she gave the enemy to crush wasn't to far off from the manic intensity she showed him when she sat on his chest, and bumped his forehead.
At least she was on his side?
If he was playing a game, then he would definitely define Syra as a Hero unit. Perhaps this is what the adventurers/champions of WoW looked like to the average person who actually lived in this world.
Frankly, he felt like he was witnessing a miracle. It was the kind of awe you would feel when you saw your favorite player pop off. Every team in a videogame had one or two people who could do supreme dps, and Syra was such a person.
His wife single handedly carved down a hundred zombies over the course of two minutes, and cleared out half of the space around the estate.
Within all this chaos, the arcane tower was not remaining idle. It constantly fired into the undead crowd. Basketball sized, blue orbs of pure arcane energy thumped down one after another. Every shot was like an explosive artillery shell. Any undead caught within a 10ft radius had its limbs exploded, and those directly hit became unrecognizable meat paste.
Due to their show of force, and slight thinning of the horde, countless Highborn civilians fled toward the palace, and ran past the house guards.
Of the hundred or so who made refuge in his house, there was only one warrior, one priestess, two rangers, and about a dozen more who only knew the basic fireball/frostball spells. The Highborn population, despite their incredibly long lives were truly useless when it came to fighting. In Varrus' impression, most mages chose to learn quality of life spells to show off between friends. For example, learning how to permanently levitate buildings, or conjure up the most amazing tasting food.
There was a reason why the Highborn had teamed up with the humans during the Troll Wars and the following conflicts. Because most Highborn were afraid of losing their long lives! They would much rather learn how to produce 50x more crops, weave stunning suits/dresses, craft beautiful homes, cook the most astounding meals, master every instrument or enchant weapons. Then they would trade these commodities to feed/arm the humans, and let them be the muscle, rather than get their manicured nails dirty.
It was no coincidence that the Highborn taught humanity magic, faith in the Light, or introduced currency.
Honestly, it wasn't a bad idea, who would want to throw away such a long life? Most 1st world countries on Earth thrived so much due to backbreaking slave labor mining the components that made up smart phones. In essence, the Highborn weren't much different in that regard.
However, for such a magically inclined people with a near infinite font of magic sitting in their backyard, and all the time in the world, everyone should at least know how to throw a fireball at minimum. If Varrus had it his way, group spells would become part of obligatory compulsory education for every young elf.
For such a population that was constantly high on their own smug, the Scourging of Silvermoon, would act as a rude awakening.
Regardless of their current usefulness, Varrus internally welcomed every survivor, because he knew that once rebranded as the Blood Elves, they would re-emerge into the world with a hatred boner, and stop being the useless cowards who hid in his cellar.
After all, there was nothing like having 90%+ of your population being wiped out to act as a wakeup call, and get your shit together.
In the past, 100 Highborn, and 100 human mages conjured up a fire death tornado that swallowed up a troll army numbering in the tens of thousands. What was stopping the Highborn from doing that again today? A lack of resolve, fear, and typical political maneuvering.
The Highborn had been so sure of their impenetrable citywide barrier, they never gathered to plan a defense. Everyone went about their lives like nothing could happen. Of course, they never thought a traitor, one of their strongest Archmages would betray them.
If he could survive the shock of losing the Sunwell, Varrus would be looking forward to the coming reform. Fortunately for him, what they faced was the dregs of the undead horde. The Vandercross estate was on the edge of the western half of Silvermoon, and far from the Scourge's heavy hitters.
Arthas' goal was the Sunwell, and to get to it, he would march straight down the middle of the city.
As far as Varrus was concerned, as soon as the font of unlimited mana became corrupted with death magic upon the resurrection of Kel'Thuzad, this curb stomping of undead would come to a swift end.
Knowing that his unlimited mana could be cut off at any moment, Varrus began spamming spells left and right.
Standing atop the balcony, fire rained down upon the zombies. Unbound Fire was shot out from both his left and right hand, and it quickly spread into the Scourge forces.
Varrus quickly discovered that one hit wasn't strong enough to destroy one of the undead.
It was, however, enough to make it stagger, and crispify. Two-three shots however, seemed to be enough to stop a zombie for good.
After killing 10 zombies, Varrus earned a level up. With practiced ease, he opened his menu, and heard the familiar level up music. Ignoring the sound, he quickly added 10pts to mana, then slapped a perk point into the Ordinator perk, Destruction Mastery: 'Destruction spells cost 35% less mana, and Destruction spells are 0.25% more powerful per level of Destruction.'
It was a perk that could be upgraded twice, and one that would surely help once the Sunwell was finally corrupted.
Varrus gleefully resumed his level grind, frying the zombies when he saw a swarm of shadows on the horizon.
Hundreds, no thousands of bat-like creatures blotted out the sky. Gargoyles began swooping down all over Silvermoon picking up a victim, then watched as they fell screaming to the ground.
A pack of 8 gargoyles began flying toward his location.
Throwing several Unbound Fire spells at them, Varrus missed each time. Beginning to grow nervous, he remembered that the Bone Spirit spell had a homing feature!
Switching spells, Varrus began to spam Bone Spirits at the winged terrors.
A dozen light colored skeleton skulls flew out of Varrus's hands at a sedate pace.
Varrus bit his lip. It would seem in exchange for being able to lock on to the enemy, this spell had sacrificed speed!
Several gargoyles ignored the light skulls, and flew directly at Varrus.
It was their mistake, as they were caught up in the spell, and screamed In fear as they exploded.
Varrus didn't celebrate just yet, as the remaining 3 gargoyles maintained their distance, and began to cast sickly green scythe of wind magic at him.
They had to remain still as they cast their magic, leaving themselves wide open for Varrus to throw a few homing skulls at them.
However, they didn't seem to care about their own well being, and were willing to sacrifice themselves if it meant taking Varrus out.
Over a dozen wind scythes barreled toward him at the same time that the enemy gargoyles came into contact with, and were exploded by the golden skulls.
Dancing like a monkey, he successfully dodged 7 of them, then he threw up a Lesser Ward, barely catching 4 more.
However, when the final scythe descended, it pushed into the ward, and he felt like it had exhausted its energy when all of the sudden, Varrus heard that all to familiar *pop* of a broken ward.
He didn't have time to react as he saw that sickly green scythe rip and tear into him.
Varrus could feel a long bloody line across his chest.
Vision going dark, he weakly held his hand up, and started casting Healing. He watched in wonder as the blood on his chest began to dry up, and scab over.
In just a minute, the wound was completely healed. The only indication he had been wounded at all was a small silver scar.
Evidently he didn't have a special gamer body that took damage such as (-44) (-12), etc. No, what damage he took was real. He was curious what effect health would have on his body, but he didn't have time to theorize, he had levels to grind!
Stepping out in his ruined robes onto the balcony once more, Varrus grimly took on a worrying site.
A wave of hundreds of Highborn had mobbed their way toward the Vandercross estate. A handful of rangers, wizards and priests carved a path forward, but the overwhelming majority were citizens who didn't possess a lick of combat potential.
Most concernedly, behind them was a grotesque array of necromancers, abominations, nerubians, ghouls, and meat wagon catapults. To top things off, leading this effort was a Death Knight.
Dozens of Highborn in the back of the mob were ran up on by ghouls. The savage monsters were a grotesque transformation of the normal zombie, and moved fast like a jaguar. Their mindless frenzy and thirst for flesh saw them tear the Highborn limb from bloody limb.
The ghouls razor sharp hand-claws tore into the soft tissue like a pencil punching through paper.
In a sick sense, the only reason why the mob of recklessly charging Highborn could make it to this point was due to the ghouls stopping to feast.
Their cries of terror were drowned out by the hungry growls of the ghouls.
Varrus felt sick in the stomach witnessing such a morbid scene. He burned the image into his mind, reminding himself that if he didn't put his all into surviving the day, that would be him.
As the refugees eventually made it to relative safety, they surged past Syra, and crammed into the Vandercross estate.
Among the civilian population, a few dozen rangers, another group of 40 fireball/frostball casters, and a pair of genuine mages made their way up to the balcony. They spared no mind to Varrus' tattered appearance, and began to unleash hell down unto the undead horde.
Some of the rangers would concentrate for a moment, then imbue their arrow with magical energy for an arcane shot. A few of them were even able to imbue their arrows with holy energy.
As for the mages, Varrus described them as 'genuine' because they knew more than one offensive spell.
One of them looked nearly identical to the sorceress from Warcraft 3. She would routinely cast slow on the ghoul's, reducing their movement speed by half, making them easy targets for both the ranged units atop the balcony, and the melee down below.
Varrus also saw her polymorph one or two undead just as they were about to gnaw on an elf. Truly, support magic could not be understated in a massive brawl such as this.
The other mage was a male, blonde like most others, and he released a near endless torrent of arcane missiles. Each spiraling beam pierced into three to four undead in a row, then exploded. His efforts alone were worth more than 15 of the basic fireballs cast by the civilians.
Meanwhile, about 100 warriors, paladins and priests formed a tight turtle like line of defense to meet the oncoming Scourge army.
Varrus hadn't remained idle taking in the scenery, and had been mindlessly firing into the crowd.
Every second, Varrus was tossing one fireball after another. And due to Unbound Fire's effect, two other undead within close proximity of the slain foe would catch fire for every one he slew.
Before long, the blue experience bar familiar to all Skyrim players filled up, his Destruction skill rose to 14.
Unable to use any new spells until he hit apprentice at skill level 25, or impart any meaningful perk point beyond a 50% cost reduction in Destruction, Varrus held off on leveling for the moment.
Until he reached that threshold, he would reserve the level up for a life saving, full heal moment.
As the first wave of zombies and ghouls were eviscerated by the elven force, the second wave made itself known.
Seven abominations, pale and the size of an elephant waddled toward the front. Each step of the corpulent, four armed monstrosities left a small indent in the ground.
Magic and arrows peppered them, but hardly seemed to do any damage. Enraged, the abominations began to charge the elven line.
"Fireballs, focus the one in the center, frostbolts the periphery! You there, slow them down! And you, direct your magic missiles at their legs!" Varrus shouted In command.
If they couldn't break up the abominations formation, it would not bode well for the defenders.
Heading Varrus' order, the civilians threw out tennis ball sized fireball and frostbolts at the central abomination. Varrus joined them, and the combined onslaught of about 30+ attacks every 2.5 seconds saw the abomination become a blackened slag of flesh.
After the second volley, the monster collapsed to the ground, and exploded. Gaseous green energies, and flesh spread everywhere. The shockwave momentarily rocked Varrus, but fortunately no one was hurt in the blast.
Meanwhile, two other abominations had been slowed so much that their legs became easy targets for the arcane wizard. Their massive bodies collapsed with the loss of their limbs, limiting their crawling speed to that of an old man's walking pace.
Another abomination was being pummeled into the ground by the turret atop the arcane tower, so Varrus didn't worry about that. However, the frost mages weren't doing enough damage.
The frostbolts hadn't done much, unfortunately, the civilians casting frost magic didn't know any spells that pierced, or froze solid. As a result, the three abominations' collision with the line seemed inevitable.
Varrus held his breath, there wouldn't be much room for maneuvering with these three juggernauts charging their line! Additionally, a fresh wave of ghouls was approaching from the flanks. If there were any gaps in their line, the ghouls would be able to ascend the tower, and wholesale slaughter the civilians!
'And once they are done, they'll come for me.' Varrus grimly thought.
A bright flash of light scorched his eyes, and he saw his wife's buster sword effortlessly cleave the massive mounds of flesh into pieces. The way her weapon glided through that pale white skin seemed as easy as him spreading butter across a slice of bread.
After which, she supported the flanks. The undead began to pull back, and started to form more orderly ranks.
At the sight of this temporary reprieve, the warriors below cheered, and slammed their swords onto their shields, the veterans of the house guard began to chant a name, and the others began to join in.
"Vandercross!"
"Vandercross!"
"Vandercross!"
Syra seemed to ignore the adulation, and directed a fierce look at him that seemed to say 'why aren't you inside?! Wanna die?!' It almost looked like she was about to come up here and force him inside!
Varrus felt his hackles rise, that was crazy, she was needed on the battlefield!
Opening his mouth to shout over the battlefield, Varrus could only spout more cheesy lines.
"People of Silvermoon! Our Hero, Lady Syra Vandercross, my one and only loving wife shall protect us! So long as I stand safely upon this balcony, I pledge to you our House's protection!" Varrus raised his voice, and stared his wife in the eye.
Syra paused in her step, and his impromptu speech seemed to have worked.
[Speech +1]
After a level up in speech, Varrus's tight grip upon the balcony's railing loosened, and he sighed in relief.
Slow clapping accompanied by mocking laughter sounded down below.
Emerging from the undead line was an abnormally pale elf.
All manner of cheer died upon his arrival, and Varrus heard several nearby Highborn suck in their breaths.
"Adonis." Someone muttered. Respect, pity, and fear were laced in their voice.
Varrus frowned as memories surged forth.
Adonis was regarded as one of the top three duelists in all of Quel'Thalas. To put things into Earth perspective, he was Mike Tyson famous. His very name was associated with elven might and superiority. To see him down so low, that even the strongest amongst the Highborn could join the ranks of undead…it was a sobering event in the hearts of those present.
"Oh do go on, I haven't heard such a droll performance since the humans begged for our aid." Adonis flashed a smug grin, and rested his hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword.
The pin drop silence followed by the growing intensity of Light energies swirling about Syra swiftly disappeared as she turned into a golden blur as she threw herself at the professional duelist.
"Ah, if it isn't the young pup, Syra Greathollow! Your actions during the Second War were legendary. How I relish this opportunity!" Adonis cheerfully drew his enchanted blade, and parried Syra's buster sword to the side.
A large patch of cracks formed on the marble floor where her sword struck, and a cloud of debris spread from the impact.
"Sloppy, sloppy. That anger of yours will get you killed!" Adonis playfully reversed the grip on his sword, and shoved the hilt forcefully into Syra's chin.
The buxom blonde grinned as fresh blood dribbled down her mouth. Her eyes flashed golden yellow, and she raised her giant sword inhumane fast to block Adonis' follow up swipe.
"It's Vandercross." Syra whispered so quietly, Varrus only heard due to his elven ears.
"Ahh, so that whore Faedra finally married into nobility even if it was at the cost of her bastard! To think such an outstanding girl became the pawn of such a slut. Tsk, tsk, tsk!" Adonis grinned as he clicked his tongue.
Sparks flew into the air as holy light and necrotic green energies pushed one another for dominance as their weapons met again and again in a flurry of motion. Their movements were fast like a cheetah, their swipes powerful like an industrial forge. The air shuddered with each collision of their weapons, and Varrus could feel the magical aura radiating off of them from the balcony.
Syra's momentum began to slowly ramp up. Her strikes became faster and more brutal. The massive metal beat stick in her hands was glowing white hot, and began to sizzle Adonis just from being in close proximity to the blade.
Syra seemed to gain the upperhand, and was gradually pushing Adonis back.
The constantly smug, and cheerful persona had completely fled from his face. All quips, and insults had ceased as the formerly cocky duelist started to crease his brow.
Varrus raised his hands in preparation to cast a spell in case of an opening, but there wasn't a clear shot.
At that very moment, when hope of slaying this Death Knight seemed to be in Syra's grasp, a great explosion of green light formed on the horizon.
Varrus' heart felt like it exploded, and he fell to his knees to vomit.
Most other Highborn had a similar reaction, they then all took upon a sickly, deathly pale aura.
Closing his eyes, Varrus checked his interface. The Sunwell buff was gone, and in its place was a serious debuff.
[Mana Addiction (Severe): -80% mana regeneration.]
Syra's momentum vanished like the light of the Sunwell, and she was forcefully pushed back. It was a miracle she kept fighting at all, but Varrus didn't have very high hopes.
It was during this time when they had interlocked blades that a necromancer in the back of the undead line ordered the Scourge forces to attack.
Unable to pay attention to the duel any further, Varrus was forced to slam a Lesser Ward in front of his face, and block a gargoyle's Wind Scythe.
Returning fire, Varrus blasted the gargoyle to pieces, but two more took its place.
That combo alone drained all his mana. Its recharge was slow, and sluggish. Likewise, having mana so low made him feel tired, like he had just gotten home after working the night shift.
Things were not looking good on the war front.
The civilian mages began to take casualties, and half of the elves on the rooftop lost their lives to the sudden gargoyle attack.
More than a thousand zombies along with hundreds of ghouls assaulted their position. Their hunger proved immense, and warriors began to fall. Each death shrank the line more and more.
The arcane tower had gone silent, the archers shot regular arrows, the warriors lost their unlimited vigor, and the priests could no longer heal. In short, they were fucked.
The battle had resumed, but this time, their Hero unit was in a precarious situation. If they didn't do something to change the tide of the battle, they would be lost.
Varrus was busy scanning his list of novice spells for possibly the last time, in search of a miracle. He saw one that might just work.
It was Pale Shadow: Target enemy is attacked by its own image for 10 seconds. It deals the same damage but has 1 Health.
As he was now, he couldn't cast the spell with his snail speed mana regeneration. However, he had held off on leveling for such an occasion!
Leveling up to level 8, Varrus felt refreshed, and promptly added everything to mana capacity, then dumped two perk points into Illusion Mastery (2) -Illusion spells cost 35/50% less Magicka, Illusion spells last 0.5/1% longer per level of Illusion, and mind affecting Illusion spells (Calm, Fear, Frenzy, Rally) are 0.1/0.2 points stronger per level of Illusion.
With this level up, the atrocious debuff had changed as well. It now read:
[Mana Addiction (Sated): -0% mana regeneration.]
He now had 180 mana, and with the Illusion Mastery perk he could cast the now 56 mana (down from 112 mana) spell three times in a row.
Taking aim, Varrus tried his best to hit Adonis, but became flustered when a nerubian climbed up the balcony directly in front of him.
Eight eyes stared into two, and Varrus unconsciously released the spell directly upon the horse sized spider.
The nerubian's mandibles opened wide, and a sickly web ball began to form. However, Varrus's spell hit first, and a pale, translucent red energy construct mimicking the nerubian's appearance spawned directly behind it.
Without waiting for a command, the construct reached forward, and body slammed its counterpart, breaking its legs, and pushing it off the balcony down below.
Varrus gripped his rapidly beating heart at the close encounter, then risked moving to the ledge of the balcony to take aim once more.
But they were moving too fast!
"Sorceress, slow him for me! I can end him!" Varrus cried out in desperation.
The sorceress was in the midst of her own fight, yet she turned, and cast Slow just as Varrus had commanded. She caught a gargoyle's claw to the back, and was carried away for her troubles.
Varrus grimaced at her predicament, but knew he had to honor her sacrifice and hit that damn duelist!
Taking aim, Varrus saw an opening, and took the shot.
"Fuck!" Varrus swore as the ghoul behind Adonis formed a copy.
At that moment, his wife spared him a glance, then gave him a radiant smile.
What was she?
Varrus's eyes widened as he saw her unclassified her cloak, and tossed it at Adonis like a matador playing with a bull. At the same time, she left herself open, and scored a blow on her arm guard.
Metal shrieked, and his wife suffered a shallow, yet death energy infused attack, forcing her arm to go limp.
"Oh woe is that creature known as Hero. All their hopes placed upon you, all their adulation. And for what? A sword through the gut! Do you regret it now girl? I know I have. My failure has enlightened me to a greater cause, now allow me to enlighten you!" Adonis stood over his wife in triumph, blade raised.
His mocking voice carried over the wind, and several Highborn died from the distraction.
Varrus had seen the cloak tossing gamble for what it was, and released his final spell right as Adonis raised his sword for the final strike.
The red ball of energy traveled through the chaotic battlefield, and struck the Death Knight in the side.
A moment later, a red construct that was a mirror image of Adonis spawned behind him. Without any hesitation, it sliced into Adonis from his shoulder to his waist.
The Death Knight twisted around, and dissipated the phantom with one slash. However, the damage done to his body was serious, and his torso barely held on to the lower half of his body.
"This treachery is an affront to the duelist's honor!" Adonis raged from the floor as he struggled to come to his knees.
Raising his blade high, he began to slash it down toward Syra with wild abandon.
"Young, talented, you will make an excellent Death Knight in the service of His Majesty!"
However, an impenetrable bubble of light covered Syra's form, preventing any further attacks from hitting her.
"The Sunwell has fallen! Submit! Submit to the Lich King! Without your precious Light, your powers you are nothing! Only He can grant you eternity!" Adonis raged as he slammed his cursed blade upon the bubble again and again.
His repeated actions began to lessen the bubble's light, and slowly cause it to twist and deform. It was only a matter of time before he got in.
"A font of limitless power? Who needs it?" Syra said calmly, and as a statement of fact.
"What did you say?!" Adonis said in surprise.
"So long as my beloved draws breath, my inner Light shines brighter than a mere pool of water!" The bubble popped of Syra's own volition during Adonis' next strike.
"Your insanity is your downfall!"
"My beloved is my strength!" Syra said in conviction. As she spoke, her form began to glow brighter than ever before.
A bright flash of holy white light spread from her like the flash of nuclear fire.
Adonis was forced back 10ft, and left a skid mark of foul undead pus upon the marble ground. His flesh was bubbling, and his once handsome face was scarred full of pockmarks.
"What sorcery is this?! The Sunwell has fallen. How?! How could you possibly have the energy to face me?!" Adonis raged.
"You sad twisted creature, didn't you listen to a word of mine?" Syra said softly as she rubbed the braid of hair tied to her wrist.
"Bullshit! The magic of love is a fantasy told to children and-kuahh!"
A blitz of speed, and a flash of light later and Adonis was missing his legs. He was nothing more than a mutilated torso sitting atop smoldering stumps. Light energy coursed through his veins, and erupted from his mouth and eyes.
He reached for his blade, only to have Syra's buster sword drop down on it, snapping it in two.
With a look of disbelief on his face, Adonis slumped to the ground, truly and wholly dead as his tether to the world was broken apart.
With the disintegration of the Death Knight, the cohesiveness of the zombie horde began to crumble, and they once again turned into mindless pawns that struck at the nearest opponent.
While this was cheerful news, the Highborn line was weary, and near collapse with mana hunger. The civilians no longer launched fireballs, the rangers shot only normal arrows, and the arcane wizard was the only one still able to cast basic magic with his larger than normal mana pool. The only blessing was that the enchanted weapons of the warriors and paladins didn't lose their luster.
The line had devolved into chaos, and it was a struggle for any of them to survive.
Syra also looked like she was flagging, and was under threat of being swarmed. Before, each of her swipes took out six or more undead, now, she barely took out one at a time. With her forward position away from the line, it would only be a matter of time before she took a fatal blow!
By this point, Varrus' mana had regenerated to the point that he could cast a few more spells, but he knew he alone would not be enough to turn the tide.
Glancing through his spells, he stopped on one in particular. Mana Stone! If he could somehow recharge Syra, she would be enough to defend them until Arthas took the bulk of the undead out of Silvermoon for his next mission!
Glancing down the high jump from the balcony, Varrus wished he didn't think he would survive with his 90hp. The elf trait of -10% hp was too serious!
However, under the Alteration spell list, he could cast Drop Zone if he leveled Alteration up to Apprentice! And Mana Stone was an Alteration spell!
Without any hesitation, Varrus began spamming Mana Stone. It was a channeling ability similar to WoW when you crafted something, and took 1.2 seconds to cast at the cost of 9 mana.
Dumping 2 perk points into Alteration Mastery, and reducing the cost of Alteration spells by 50%, the Novice Mana Stone ability cost him 4.5 mana!
Standing in place, Varrus began to spam Mana Stone over and over again.
With his 180 mana, he made 40 mana stones, and would only need to consume 18 to top up. Each stone was blue, and the size of a rupee from Zelda. They weighed 0.1, and with a carry limit of 300, his inventory was soon stacked to the brim.
Spamming this ability over and over again saw him level from Novice to Apprentice in less than five minutes. He also leveled to 15, increasing his total mana to 250, and had 7 perk points remaining after spending them on increased mastery in Destruction, Restoration, Illusion, and Alteration.
As soon as he cast Drop Zone, a red/orange circle the size of a car appeared on the ground. As long as he fell into that spot, his fall damage would reduce to zero. Before he jumped, he cast one more spell on himself.
It was the illusion spell, Ghostwalk: Caster is invisible for 10 seconds or until broken, then teleports back to where the spell was cast.
He then fell down into the glowing circle, with his elven trait, such a thing was smoother than any jump he had done back on Earth.
Invisible, Varrus sprinted toward Syra. He felt his lungs burn from the exertion as his puny 100 stamina was quickly depleted, but he had to make it.
His wife was on her last legs, and the mana sickness seemed to be catching up to her. While her faith and love for him kept the Light blazing around her, it was dimming, and possessed 1/10th of its peak value. Clearly the fight with Adonis in the midst of the sunwell exploding had drained her.
Reaching her side, Varrus barely dodged a Scourge ghoul, if it hit him, his invisibility would be broken, and he would be returned to his original position all for nought.
Slipping under the legs of another undead, Varrus gripped Syra in a bare hug.
He took a powerful fist to the forehead for his troubles in which he saw stars, but then saw vertigo as he and Syra reverted to his original position. Discombobulated, Varrus had fallen atop Syra, and had difficulty speaking through the pain.
"Varrus! My love…No! No, no, no, you are okay, you are okay! You will be okay!" Syra realized what she had done, and warm tears began to fall upon Varrus's forehead.
She tried to form light upon her hand and heal him, but only sparks and light motes would sputter forth.
Varrus coughed, and raised his hand to Heal.
"I am fine."
"You, you beautiful, loveable fool. Why!? Why didn't you stay inside? I could've done it. I would've protected you from this." Syra said, and meaningfully gripped the tattered remnants of his robe where the weakened wind scythe had scored a blow.
Syra's soft, bell-like voice, and obvious concern touched Varrus' heart, and it was difficult for him to grow angry at her.
"Hahh, didn't you say it? It's the power of love. Besides, shouldn't I be the one concerned here?" Varrus sighed, and looked meaningfully at her damaged bracers, and the scar on her arm.
"Anyway, this discussion can wait for later! Quick, crush these and absorb the mana within!" Varrus opened his inventory, and dumped out 238 Mana Stones.
In the five minutes of creating a Mana Stone every 1.2 seconds, he made 250 stones. He only needed to consume 12 of them in between level ups, leaving the rest for Syra.
"The Vandercross family heirloom spell! You do care!" Syra seemed to recognize the ability, and gripped Varrus's forearm so tightly, he felt like it would break.
"It's not that special, anyone could conjure magic water that could do the same." Varrus downplayed the ability.
"Of course it's special! Vandercross Mana Stones do not decay over time like a potion, and are made of pure arcane power with zero side effects! Do not discount our House again like that!" Syra roughly poked Varrus in the ribs in a fit of faux? anger.
"Yes, yes, my love for you is like a Mana Stone. So please, heal your mana sickness Syra Vandercross, you are my only hope." Varrus said in a combination of sarcasm and earnestness.
Syra patted him on the head, then plucked another one of his hairs for her wristband. She then absorbed the stones all in one go, but a frown appeared on her face, she then looked eagerly at him, like some sort of puppy that had found its favorite treat. "Can you make more? This hasn't even been a tenth of my mana." She said, and tilted her head to the side.
Varrus' heart stopped from the cuteness of it all. Seriously, if they weren't on the brink of death, he would cuddle with this woman even if his bones broke.
"Of course! Please reinforce the line, and I will make more!" Varrus nodded in encouragement.
Dumping a perk point into Alteration Dual cast, the effectiveness of the Mana Stone had increased by 2x, at an increased cost of 1.5x. So if he dual cast Mana Stone (novice) it cost 6.75 mana for a 20 mana return.
However, now that he was Apprentice in Alteration, he could cast Mana Stone (Apprentice). After channeling for 5 seconds, he could create a (for base cost) 100 mana Stone for 90 mana. After everything was taken into account and he dual casted, this 5 second stone would yield 200 mana, and cost 67.5 mana.
In effect, he could cast the spell roughly 60 times in 5 minutes, minus costs and considering level ups, he would have 50 Mana Stones by the end of the operation.
He was aiming for 50 skill level, then he could learn the perk Intuitive Magic: - Novice and apprentice spells of any school cost 100% less Magicka to cast. As well as 100 skill level, because at 100, spell cost was reduced by 41%! Combined with his Alteration Mastery perk, that would be a whopping 91% reduction! Of course, he also had the potential to limitlessly legendary Alteration, and theoretically gain unending levels.
Course set, Varrus began to channel Mana Stone (Apprentice) as much as he could.
While Varrus was busy power leveling, the necromancer that was speaking with Adonis earlier had managed to get the rabid Scourge into some semblance of order, and had renewed the assault upon the Vandercross estate.
"Damned idiot should've waited for reinforcements." The necromancer muttered to himself, then signaled for the Meat Wagon Catapults to ram into the diminished elven line at full force.
Three wheeled constructs made of wood and metal lumbered forth. About the size of a typical sedan, these catapults moved autonomously, and were animated with various sinew turning the wheels. Mounted at the very front of them, they had a large row of spikes + a trough somewhat similar to a snowplow.
Rumbling to the front of the zombie horde, the meat wagon catapults charged full speed ahead, reaching up to 25mph.
Varrus noticed the catapults while he was busy charging Mana Stones, and he quickly gave his spell list a once over, and then for the first time in the day, he smiled.
Under the Apprentice spell section, he had the perfect skill to stop a car.
"Please work." Varrus muttered to himself as he began to cast his magic.
Raising his hand, Varrus pointed at a spot a few feet in front of one Meat Wagon, then released the energy he had been gathering.
Near instantaneously, a stone wall thick as a refrigerator, and 8ft long sprang up, impeding the catapult. The undead construct tried to plow through, but it was stopped as its spikes got lodged into the wall.
Satisfied, Varrus raised his, preparing to do the same to the remaining Meat Wagons, when a team of Arcane Golems came out of the estate, and crashed with them head on.
Metal shrieked as the golems got down low, and overturned the Meat Wagons like some sort of jiu-jitsu wrestler. Overturned on their side, the Meat Wagon's wheels turned and accelerated, but were unable to move.
The golems were decked out in crimson red armor, and looked something akin to a spacemarine. Standing at 8ft tall, these mini tanks didn't stop at the Meat Wagons, and began to wade through the Scourge.
Every step they took crushed an undead. And when they became swarmed, they would cast Arcane Explosion. The purple light instantly exploded from the golem in a 360 sphere, burning any who stood to close.
With the arrival of the golems, the tide of battle began to shift as the undead had no further reinforcements.
In fact, after the Sunwell explosion, Varrus could very clearly see tens of thousands of undead in the distance marching out of Silvermoon.
They could've very easily stopped to wipe their holdout into oblivion, but since they served Arthas, they were commanded to follow where he led.
Before long, there wasn't an undead present within the Vandercross estate. They had successfully survived.
Varrus let out a sigh of relief, and plopped down into a sitting position.
Just as he was about to close his eyes, he received a pair of new quests.
[Remember the Sunwell!: repair the Sunwell 0/999,999,999 mana]
[Retake Silvermoon: 0/20,000 undead slain]
"Oh fuck me." Varrus let out an even bigger breath of air as he beheld his new impossible tasks.
"I was hoping you would say that." A soft voice purred in his ear.
Snapping his eyes open, Varrus felt himself lifted up by his armpits, then carried bridal style.
Eyes going wide, Varrus beheld his wife smiling down at him, and all resistance fled him.
'Ah what the hell, shitty Skyrim quests don't give any direct reward half the time! I'll take this as my just due!' Varrus nodded his head, and justified to himself.
"So cute." Syra said as she found an empty room within the vast estate.
She then slammed Varrus down onto the bed, and then ripped his tattered cloak off. Like some sort of hungry animal, she discarded her shoulder pads in a hurry, and tossed her armor to the floor lightning fast.
Prowling forward, Syra swayed her hips like a beast in heat. Every slow step of hers jiggled her cleavage, and Varrus began to feel his eyes dilate, and his pulse quicken.
Her breath was hot and heavy as she dressed herself upon him. Syra pressed her lips to Varrus', and began to grind her hips into his crotch.
Her golden hair tickled the side of his cheek, her grip on his shoulders was intense-even a little painful-but the pleasure outweighed any pain.
Sticking his tongue out, Varrus noted his wife's surprise as her eye widened. Then as if she had discovered the most wonderful thing in the world, Syra stuck her tongue into Varrus' mouth, and the two began to suck on one another, and picked up the speed of their humping.
Breathless, Varrus clunked his forehead into hers, and stared unblinkingly into her golden eyes.
For the first time, he saw his confident, overbearing wife blush!
"Give. Give it to me." Syra said in a hushed tone as she stuttered.
Varrus was stunned silent! He couldn't help but chuckle at this innocent cute side.
"Please." Syra all but begged.
Her erotic voice sent shivers down Varrus' spine, and his erection stiffened to the hardest it'd ever been.
"Lay on your back." Varrus said gently.
Syra eagerly obeyed, and looked up at him with sparkling eyes.
After moving into a missionary position, Varrus drank in his wife's perfect curves, ample bosom, and angelic face. It seemed so unreal, yet he was relishing every second of it. This girl, this great killer on the battlefield was like a newborn kitten being fed milk. She was adorable.
Getting into position, a sudden bout of nervousness began to assault him. What if he wasn't good enough?
Varrus gulped. His heart was beating a million times a minute. His knees went weak, and his palms sweaty. Taking a deep breath, Varrus aimed his stiffy, and took the plunge.
"Hnyahh!" Syra moaned, then forcefully gripped Varrus by the back of the head, and brought him down for a long, deep kiss.
Reaching out to hold her hands, Varrus began to increase the tempo as pleasure assaulted him.
"Huhhh. Huhhh. Huhhh." Quiet gasps escaped his mouth as he did all in his power to control his orgasm from spilling out.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Syra screamed louder than any other time he had heard her speak.
Every time his cock slapped in and out of her pussy, he felt her body quiver.
Deciding to up the antey, Varrus activated his stamina, and cast the spell Longstride: While concentrating, grants 20% movement speed and 25 carry weight, tripled when out of combat.
Her boobs jiggled as his momentum began to pick up, and her face took on an entirely red hue.
Syra's primal screams turned into wordless howls like some sort of ancient beast as she orgasmed. Her eyes glazed over, and Varrus felt her contract and tighten all around him.
'Fuck!' Varrus felt himself get close as his wife's grip on him got stronger.
She wrapped her legs around him, and shuddered like never before. Syra then pulled Varrus down, and passionately kissed him while he pounded away.
Syra then held his forehead close, and he could feel her hot breath tickle his chin.
"I, I'm close!" Varrus said between panting breaths.
"Impregnate me. Make me a mother Varrus. Please!"
"Hah hah hah!" Varrus panted heavily as he thrust his hips forward, and released all he had in him.
"Oh, oh God." Varrus muttered in pleasure as he finished inside.
Breathing heavily, he flopped down in bed next to Syra, and felt her boobs press into his side as she moved to cuttle.
Letting the days' woes wash over him, Varrus closed his eyes, and welcomed the best sleep of his life.
"I want twelve." Varrus heard a sleepy muttered voice next to his ear.
Snapping his eyes open, he side eyed his wife.
He had -95% the fertility rate of a human, this crazy bitch was going to be the end of him!
While Varrus had an internal panic attack his wife happily snuggled closer, and fell asleep in his embrace.
"Hahh, goodnight, love." Varrus said, letting go of his worries as he gently stroked her hair.
(LINE BREAK)
AN: The first 7 chapters are extra long (7-10k), but from ch 8 onwards, they're the standard 2-3k in length to keep up with a M-F release schedule.
You can read up to 25 more ch on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/KarpQQ
There are also character profile pics on the patreon, as posting images/hyperlinks on Webnovel is unavailable as far as I'm aware.
Mods used in this story:
Ordinator Perks
Apocalypse Magic
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