Diplomacy 101 ch 203 (Warcraft)

Hovering above Hearthglen on his flying carpet, Varrus eyed the ashes that were once the Dreadlord known as Detheroc. 

Two down, one to go. 

Clenching his fist, he didn't feel satisfied whatsoever knowing that Rho'dan was still dead. 

Not even the shiny Legendary Soul Gem occupying his inventory could elicit the same gamer-like zeal that he felt when this was the fourth one to ever enter his grasp. 

He should be celebratory, in fact, right now, he would be thinking about how he could buff himself or his wife, but with Rho'dan gone, it made him wonder, who would be next? 

Could he live with himself if he didn't help out his mother? Or even Lor'Themar? 

With the death of a close family member like Rho'dan, Varrus felt as if his responsibilities had magnified a hundred times. 

If Nightsong and Lor'Themar were to perish too, who would be his go to for sage advice? Faedra?! 

Forming a sour face at that thought, Varrus sighed at the melancholy thoughts, and turned to look at the city down below. 

The front gates had been torn open, and a swarm of ghouls were pouring in. 

He saw Helios doing everything he could, but the Ghouls were ravenous, and hungrily feasting upon everyone they came across. 

Without a central leader, the mindless Undead began to ravage everything in sight. 

From what Varrus could tell, the intelligent Heroes and Elites, having seen the way the wind was shifting, had scattered to the four corners of the wind to escape Varrus's follow up retribution. 

It was annoying, but Varrus would have to send the army, and adventurers after these Heroes and Elites as they went to ground. He couldn't reasonably hunt them all at once. 

But that didn’t mean he couldn't handle these mindless freaks. 

Having already decimated tens of thousands upon his arrival onto the scene, Varrus estimated that there were well over 200-400,000+ Undead clogging up the pathway leading up to Hearthglen. 

It was an unimaginable number, but from his position in the sky, and unlimited mana, their numbers meant nothing to him. 

Gazing dispassionately into the horde, Varrus heard the screams of the innocent, and decided to act. 

Varrus channeled the beam of Infinite Light into his ring of Mana Stones that surrounded the city. This caused a chain reaction, where Light attuned mana spread throughout the entire circle, like a row of dominoes falling over. 

The entire zone within the circle acted as Varrus's domain, and by muttering a few words to a spell, the yellow-golden crystals emitted a sweeping pulse that spread throughout all of Hearthglen. 

Within the span of a minute, this wave of Light attuned energy spread throughout the entire city. 

Every single Undead was ashed the instant it touched them. People were cured of their minor wounds, the sick and diseased became healthy again, and those people who looked like malnourished gremlins due to insomnia regained the color to their skin. 

Varrus then pushed this wave outward towards the plague-filled plains that were outside the city. 

Closing his eyes to focus, Varrus continued to chant as this Grand Spell swept through tens of thousands like a flood. 

A golden shower of Light attuned watery mana rained from the heavens, and the darkness of night became almost as bright as day due to Varrus's magic. 

Breathing deeply, Varrus felt the strain on his mind, body, and soul as this awesome power coursed through his veins, and he worked his will upon the world.  

15 minutes later, there wasn't a single Undead within a 10 mile radius of Hearthglen's walls. 

Shuddering from the exhaustive performance, Varrus could only thank the infinite endurance of the Sunwell, because if he were not connected, he wondered if a spell of this magnitude would take something from him grander than fatigue. 

“My magnificent husband. You must put this act to a play. Or at least, make a storybook for our children. They will certainly enjoy the day that their father turned night into day.” Syra cooed, and clung onto his arm. 

“Syra.” Varrus said her name with a smile, and returned the embrace. 

Holding onto her, Varrus watched on as the motes of Light continued to permeate the air. 

His spell was done, but the Mana Stones were still in place, and the cost to maintain the Domain was infinitesimal since he was using external tools to fuel the magic. Seeing that balls of light were bouncing around, as if they had a life of their own, that they radiated concepts of peace, hope, and healing, Varrus couldn't help but smile. 

Emerging from their homes, the people of Hearthglen began to laugh, dance, and make merry. Of course, some started to mourn, but many more began to pray, quite a few had noticed him, and even knelt to say a prayer up to him. 

It was embarrassing, but Varrus took it in stride. 

These people down below had been living through hell for over 6 months. Almost all of them would have dead family members, and may have witnessed their fathers, sisters, wives, children, etc turning into zombies. 

It was a horrifying experience. 

Knowing that this was the largest congregation of living Humans left in the Kingdom of Lordaeron, Varrus took pity on them. 

As a Human at heart, he did not like to see people suffering. 

Glancing at the Mana Stones, Varrus figured that he would leave them where they were at. To mark this territory as a permanent font of Light, and a holy place of healing. 

By safeguarding this branch of Humanity, Varrus hoped to foster a new generation devoted to the Covenant. 

At least, he would like to do that, but one very loud, mustachioed hulking man made himself, and his disdain for Varrus clear. 

“Stand up, all of you! Have you any dignity? Any pride? You are Human! Bowing before some knife-earred jackaboot, is tantamount to treason! As the Grand Marshal of the Alliance, I order you to begin repairs of this city, and begin the burning of the dead!” 

Narrowing his eyes, Varrus glared at the man. It was one he was all too familiar with. 

It was Othmar Garithos. 

The notorious racist of WC3, this man was single handedly responsible for chasing Kael’Thas into Illidan's arms. 

He was a bonafide Hero, but Varrus wouldn't miss any sleep over his disappearance. 

Going still, Varrus considered how he would deal with this obstacle, perhaps mind control, or a threat of violence? 

As Varrus considered his options, Syra jumped off the flying carpet in a dash of speed, and then cleaved the man in half. 

Varrus blinked, and Syra was back up on the carpet, hugging onto him. 

“Go forth, Varrus Vandercross, regale them with your titles, your victories and accomplishments.” Syra gestured down towards the stunned people. 

Varrus sighed. While he did like to boast about his achievements, it wasn't the same since Rho'dan wasn't here to do it for him. 

Syra pouted upon hearing Varrus's sigh, but he was quick to rub her on the shoulder, and flash a smile. 

Taking a deep breath, Varrus turned to address the people down below, and magnified his voice. 

“Good citizens of Lordaeron, my name is Varrus Vandercross, leader of the Covenant of Races. Just yesterday, my armies have seized control over the Eastwald. Today, hearing of your great need, myself, and my wife have come to your aid. 

I apologize that we could not offer our direct aid sooner, but know that I have always had your safety in mind. 

The armor covering your chests, the weapons in your grasp, the food in your belly, they were all supplied by Vandercross! 

In fact, these motes of Light and healing waves that bless the air shall become a permanent fixture of Hearthglen. 

In return for all these things, I ask only one thing of you. 

Your fealty!” Varrus raised his hands, and grandly declared. 

Many people began to mutter amongst themselves, and a handful of richly dressed people whispered angrily with one another, but no one stepped forward to argue with the man who could transform night into day. 

As for the majority of working class people, they didn't seem to mind much. After all, it wasn't as if they had ever seen King Terenas Menethil before, what was the big deal of swearing fealty to him, and swearing it to Varrus? 

“I see you have made your decisions! Please, everyone together! Take a knee, and swear your loyalty to the Covenant.” Varrus said, and led them along in a swearing ceremony. 

After the event was done, Varrus bowed to everyone present. 

“Thank you, citizens of the Covenant. It is my honor to serve as your protector. I shall continue to provide food into the winter, and will cure this diseased land of the plague. It is my hope that life will return to normal in as little as three months. For the time being, please follow the commands of my Regional Governor, Helios regarding any changes, or any concerns regarding the Westenlands. He has my complete and total trust.” Varrus bowed once more towards the crowd, and then lowered his flying carpet to speak with Helios. 

As he did so, Varrus continued to lament Rho'dan's loss. Without hjs administrative genius, managing this newly acquired land would be a nightmare. 

Helios would have to step up in Rho'dan's absence. As a decent military commander, it wasn't as if the former Ranger Lieutenant was lacking in leadership capabilities. In fact, Hearthglen holding out as long as it did was testament to his abilities. 

While they perhaps had a rocky relationship, the ability to hold out under such immense pressure made Varrus want to hoist new responsibilities onto the formerly depressed man. 

Landing next to Helios, and his contingent of Blood Elves, every last member of his unit deeply bowed. 

Varrus nodded in appreciation. 

“You have done well. House Vandercross is blessed to count you amongst its numbers. Over the coming days, all of you will receive newly enchanted gear, a raise in Mana Stones, and perhaps more.” Varrus smiled at his followers. 

“Thank you, Highlord.” 

“Please, rest yourselves, and gather your dead. Do not spread this rumor, but I have a means to return those who have perished. It is a costly spell however, and not something I can use often. Know this, however. I shall always endeavor to use this magic on my most faithful.” Varrus nodded at his House soldiers from within a group shroud of Muffle, and spoke solemnly. 

Many of the troops held their breaths, or wore shocked expressions on their faces. 

“You heard the Highlord! Everyone, kneel in thanks!” Helios commanded the stunned unit, and was the first to take a knee. 

“For House Vandercross!” 

Varrus smiled, then waved them off. “Please, go rest, I wish to have words with your Captain.” 

As soon as the troops left, Varrus looked down at Helios, who was still kneeling. 

“You have done well, Regional Governor. Let us discuss your promotion, and any intelligence you can share about the one named Balnazzar.”