Chapter 56

Four days had passed since Varrus had set the ball rolling and sent out his invitations. 

It was four days of nonstop grinding for all the residents of Quel'Thalas. 

Currently, Varrus was within his study during a rare moment of 'relaxation.' He was busy going over reports, and status updates regarding the other Convocation members assignments. 

Papers were messily scattered across his giant desk, yet Varrus knew where every item was, and could easily locate any document if he was asked to find it. He was messy with his system, but there was a method to his madness. 

Whilst he had papers, there were also a handful of scrying orbs cycling between live feeds of his workshops, and other parts of the city. Varrus didn't focus on them much, but while he was within the confines of his study, he liked to get a glimpse of the outside world. As someone who spent most of his free time online, this was the closest he could get to mimicking that level of entertainment. 

He had also enchanted some instruments, and they were playing some songs according to his memory. 

Despite all that had happened to him, Varrus was still in awe of magic, and while he disparaged the Highborne for their vanity, he could only applaud them for their vast repertoire of QOL (quality of life) magic. As someone who couldn't play the piano, being able to listen to play the Song of Storms, or Giorno's Theme with magic was simply amazing. 

But there were only so many ways Varrus could entertain himself. Because ultimately, he was a leader, and as the First Seat, he had to go over reports. Lots. And lots. Of reports.

Somehow, despite traveling to a fantasy world, Varrus turned into a middle manager. One that had to handle the needs of a bunch of stuck up, prissy people. People who called themselves the Highborne, and now the edgy moniker of Blood Elf. God, Varrus could slam his head into the table of papers in front of him! 

'No no, think of Syra, think of the awesome magic you can learn! Just think, one day, if your Spell Power is great enough, you can Polymorph a Dragon into a newt! You can do this!' Varrus thought to himself, then began to take his job seriously. The safety of his entire race was at stake after all, there was no time to mope around. 

First off, Telonicus and Tae'thelon were demanding a never ending stream of Mana Stones from Varrus to fuel their projects. 

Whilst Varrus privately thought that they were skimming some from the top, he was fine with it as long as the Headmaster and the Royal Engineer could complete their tasks. 

Tae'thelon had already reconnected a dozen teleportation pads, and Varrus could now use the pad in his residence to travel to the square in front of the Palace of the Sun, or Silvermoon's front gates. These two locales were open to the public. 

The other 9 pads were within private residences-much like Varrus' was-and could only be teleported to if a person on the other side accepted the transfer. It worked sort of like answering a phone or a door. The pad on the other side would receive an alert, and if no one answered, then it was locked out. 

It was a little scummy that the political elite had access to the reinstated teleportation network first, but as much as Varrus hated it, he hated walking between both halves of the city more. Fuck commuting, he'd rather teleport! 

Telonicus was crafting the Rune Stones, but it was a labor intensive process. There were so few master inscribers in Silvermoon to begin with, so the Royal Engineer had to do it all himself. He then had to use formulae to decide where the best placement of the Rune Stone would be. 

Apparently one could not simply plop a Rune Stone down willy nilly, or upon the site of a destroyed Rune Stone. Leylines were a thing in Warcraft, and the currents of mana were ever shifting, like the plate tectonics of Earth. This invasion by the Scourge spread Death energy all throughout the land, changing both the visual landscape, as well as the ethereal landscape. 

As it stood, Telonicus was completing the construction of one Rune Stone a week~. By his estimates, he will need 50 to properly weaken the magic of any invading foe, but was aiming for 100 to create a safety net. 

Personally, Varrus thought the engineer just wanted more Mana Stones to work with, and was still sour at Varrus' nonanswer over the Sunwell issue, but he couldn't quite fault the man. 

The Elves got fucked over during the Scourge invasion, and honestly, Varrus was tempted to tell Telonicus to craft 200 or even 500 Rune Stones if it was feasible. Toss those babies all throughout Azeroth, because frankly? Fuck the Legion, and to hell with Demons and the Old Gods. 

The super team of Liadran, Thaladred and Koren had already set off to relieve the fortress town of Tranquillien. Varrus had checked each of them out with the Amulet of the Plague God, but they each came out clean.

Once he had that confirmation, he set them up with enchanted gear for their troops, and gifted each of them a necklace with a Greater Soul Gem empowering it. Reports were few and far between, but from what Varrus could gather, the fighting was fierce. Thousands of civilians had been evacuated, yet the three Heroes wanted to hold on to the city. 

From what news he did receive, it would seem that the enemy numbered at least in the tens of thousands, if not up there in the hundreds of thousands. Their only blessing was that the millions of Scourge zombies were still in Human lands, and that the Burning Legion had set off for Kalimdor. 

Thanks to a tip from Lor'Themar's rangers, Varrus had learnt of Archimonde's departure, and had sighed in relief as the figurative Devil's right hand man set off to combat his hated foes across the sea, the Night Elves. 

So while he didn't have to worry about the threat of the Legion for the time being, that didn't mean Varrus was pleased with Liadran's decision to remain in Tranquillien. 

He was worried that they would eventually be overwhelmed by superior numbers. Because even Varrus, with his Master tier Destruction spells wouldn't want to face off against a million or more Undead with <1,000 troops at his disposal. Varrus was strong, but he wasn't demi-god strong! < p>

Because even with the help of his Master tier spells, he barely took down Kith'ix. A demi-god that had a botched summoning, one that took the combined attacks of almost every Elven Hero. 

Now Varrus wasn't aware of any demi-god tier opponents in the Scourge's ranks. But the demonic Dreadlords that commanded the local Scourge forces were cunning saboteurs, and resourceful tacticians. Furthermore, if any could possibly be strong enough to match the title of demi-god, it would perhaps be the Lich, Kel'Thuzad. 

Kel'Thuzad was raised into undeath by corrupting the Sunwell, and using its nigh limitless power was raised as the Lich King's most ruthless operator. 

Varrus would be a fool to sleep on this talented necromancer's power, his cunning or the might of millions. Quantity was a quality of its own. Countless times throughout history, larger forces of under equipped men have overthrown better disciplined, better equipped forces. If Rome could fall to barbarians, China/Rus fall to nomad horseman, etc, then even Varrus, with all his power, could lose to overwhelming numbers. Especially when those numbers are backed up by Undead Elven archmages, and the greatest Human Heroes to have fallen into undeath. 

No, Varrus had experienced the price of arrogance when he almost had his head bit off by the lynx Loa at the battle of the beach. 

He only hoped that Liadran and company could emerge from Tranquillien unscathed. That they might learn from the dangers of compassion, and temper their hearts towards the crusties of war. Varrus admired Liadran for her spirit, and hoped she would continue to act in the good of all people, but such a nature must also be paired with the wisdom of maturity. 

Whilst Tranquillien was being reinforced, and the first Rune Stone had been set up in that town to reduce the powers of the Scourge, Varrus had directed the Knights of the Hawk to drop off Mana Stones all throughout the land. 

Villages, hamlets, and those few towns that escaped the ravages of war were in desperate need of the crystals. If they went much longer without them, Varrus feared that they would transform into the disgusting gremlins known as the Wretched. 

Lastly, Lor'Themar had established contact with Garithos. The self-appointed leader of the Alliance was canonically racist towards all Elves, and would have executed Kael'Thas, along with the Sunfury for the crime of working together with Naga. 

Now Varrus could get behind hating on the Naga for the simple fact that they were worshippers of the Old Gods. However, Garithos was a hypocrite who would later ally with a faction of Undead who broke their mental chains known as the Forsaken.

Varrus didn't like Garithos, but that didn't mean he couldn't use the pompous prick as a meat shield. 

Saving Quel'Thalas was Varrus's number one priority, and to that end, they were going to send a shipment of supplies to the beleaguered Humans. Varrus was going to forge them iron arms & armor, and was considering paying the front lines a visit too. 

If he could find a way to install someone pro-Elven as the leader of the Humans, that would go a long way towards Varrus's ultimate goal of creating a new cross-species faction. He had some ideas regarding his new Illusion spells, but that would have to wait until he saw the situation on the ground. 

Only by becoming the leaders of a faction could Quel'Thalas determine its own destiny. 

To that end, he would have to pay Sunsail Anchorage a visit, and speak with the Admiral in charge of the Elven fleet to see what supplies were being sent out. Depending on Kael's time table clearing out Eversong, Varrus might take some covert actions in the Human lands to bolster their strength, as well as win them over to the Elven cause. 

However, Varrus was incredibly busy at home, between purging the land, and forging bricks and equipment, he had little free time. But if he could plant the seeds of a new organization loyal to Quel'Thalas early, then that could only benefit him in the long term. 

Besides the tasks set for the rest of the members of the Convocation, Varrus also had much to do on his own. 

Varrus had been hard at work completing innumerable mini missions that ate away at his time. Besides clearing out the plague infected, cursed land known as the Dead Scar, he had volunteered himself to supply the army with weapons and armor. 

Since his Smithing skill was so high, and he could forge gear within seconds of acquiring the materials necessary to forge them, Varrus had become a one man factory. 

Whilst he wouldn't be taking part in the trials and challenges that the Sunfury would be undertaking, that didn't mean he couldn't support them from home. 

Like the hardworking men and women who worked themselves to exhaustion in the factories during WW2, Varrus knew that his supply of arms and armor could make all the difference for this relatively small force. 

The Sunfury were almost completely finished in their preparations, and were chomping at the bit to enact their revenge. Kael'thas had personally tutored the mages, and his chief guard, Knight-Lord Dranarus recruited hundreds into the Elite guard of Spellbreakers, bolstering the Prince's ranks. 

A parade was to be held the day after the banquet, two days from now, in which the city would send off their soldiers to war. 

It was during that momentous event that Varrus planned on gifting 500 mithril weapons enhanced by his increased Smithing skill, 200 sets of enchanted mithril armor, and 30 sets of thorium armor. 

Interestingly enough, moonstone was a semi-common product found in both Skyrim and Warcraft. It was a critical material used in forging glass armor. Varrus used the somewhat rare material to craft 3,200 sets of glass armor. 

Whilst the name left much to be desired, the defense to weight ratio was perfect for the average Elf. 

The armor was tough. An entire set of glass armor came with an armor rating of 100. Mithril armor had a rating of 250. Lastly, Thorium armor had a rating of 420. For reference, an entire set of Daedric armor (the best armor type in Skyrim) had a rating of about 580. 

And that was simply the base stats. With the following perks, each set of armor was modified further: 

Smithing Mastery (2) - All items can be improved 20% more.

Meric Smithing- Double the weapon dmg/armor rating of Elven equipment. (Anything designed to look Elvish.) 

Expert Smithing- Double the weapon dmg/armor rating of all equipment. 

Exotic Smithing- Double the weapon dmg/armor rating of armor made from exotic ores such as (adamantium, titanium, ghost iron, saronite, etc) 

Advanced Workshop - You may choose to upgrade one grindstone or workbench to an Advanced version for 2500 gold. It improves items one tier higher (items can be improved beyond Legendary). Adding a flat 200 armor or 100 damage to a piece of equipment.

Taking a set of glass armor as an example, the base set was 100. The perks applied their buffs in the order that they were presented. A 10% increase equaled 110 armor. That figure was then doubled, and doubled again thanks to Meric Smithing and Expert Smithing leading to 440 armor score! Finally, Advanced Workshop added on 200, meaning that every set of glass armor Varrus crafted would have a total of 640! 

A quick comparison of the modified armor values went like so: 

Iron: 552

Glass: 640

Mythril: 1,300

Thorium: 2,048 

On paper, all these numbers didn't mean much, but after thoroughly testing them himself and with his guards, Varrus developed a loose system. It was one where each new tier was heavily resistant if not immune to the weaknesses of the tier below it. 

Armor Rating: 

S = 1,301-2,048 resistant up to 4 of Lor'Themar's magic arrows/4 of Varrus's Expert spells 

A = 901-1,300 weak to two attacks from a Hero's magic arrow/spell/Syra's sword

B = 601-900 weak to an Elite's magic arrow/cannon fire/spell 

C = 401-600 weak to standard magic fireballs/average magic

D = 201-400 weak to standard magic arrows/musket shot

F = 0-200 weak to standard arrows from a longbow 

There were a few things Varrus could glean from this information. 1) Thorium and Mythril were OP. 2) Glass armor could hold up under a few crushing stomps from a golem, if he had a Dwarven cannon, Varrus would love to see how it held up! And 3) Iron armor could tank some magic arrows from Elven Regulars. In effect, he had made bullet resistant/proof armor with mere iron thanks to the Skyrim perks! 

Thorium, when worked in Varrus's hands became an OP substance fit for Heroes. It was such a rare material, it was a shame that he could only craft 30 sets. The Elites who donned that gear would practically become immortal. The only thing stopping them would be if they got done in by an enemy Hero, or got cocky and taken out by a trap/superior numbers. 

If Thorium was this amazing, he could only imagine how powerful adamantium was. That truly was the metal fit to contain the powers of a demi-god. 

Besides the serious implications of this OP armor, there was some humor in their design. Due to the color of the ore used to craft the gear, the armor was not the typical red and gold that the Highborn seemed to favor. 

The glass armor was emerald green, the mithril was an umbra-blue, and the thorium armor was crimson with gold highlights in traditional Blood Elven colors. 

Glass Armor:

Mythril Armor (without N-Elf helmet/glave):

Thorium:

Although in Varrus' opinion, he quite liked the distinction between sets. Only the bravest and most skilled warriors and paladins should be wearing thorium, so that as they killed more of the enemy, their heroism would stand out, and morale would skyrocket. However, the dual edged sword of marking out your Elite with easily identifiable/seperate colors was that they could become targets for the enemy Champions. And should the Elite in the army fall, then morale would crumble, and the line would snap like a pencil in a child's hand. 

In the end, however, Varrus thought it was worth it to have those with the best armor standout. Besides, the smug Elves were going to smug, even on campaign. He was certain that the lucky few who wore thorium armor would brag to high heaven about the superiority of their gear. 

When Varrus got the chance, he should have Kael introduce a merit system. One in which new weapons/armor would be distributed to the worthy, and that those who failed their comrades would have their gear assigned to someone else. 

But that notion predicated entirely on the premise that Varrus had the supplies to craft them some gear. 

The supplies that Varrus could get his hands on-the ones required to forge quality gear at least-were quite limited. 

He wouldn't mind equipping them with iron armor, as a base set came up to 80, with an enhanced set resting at 552. However, it was 4x heavier than glass armor, and he could only imagine the protest of wearing iron armor. 

Damned smug Elves wouldn't deign to wear something fit only for a Human. The prissy race of sissy's had to look pretty whilst conducting war. Lord forbid that they actually had to sweat during it as well. 

In a way, Varrus could empathize. In games, his character often wore impractical gear, or even wore a set with less armor because it looked cool. Who didn't want to style on the enemy? But this was no game. Mages and priests weren't literally bound to their robes, and could even wield swords and bows if the occasion called for it. But oh no, wearing a set of heavy armor-heavy armor that made one immune to the damage any basic Undead zombie could dish out-was too much for them! 

Besides, there could be an argument to be made as to why an Elf would prefer the glass armor besides it being more aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Elves in general were physically weaker than their Human counterparts, but their agility, grace, and nimbleness was superior. By minimizing the weight by 4x, wearing glass armor was almost like wearing nothing at all in comparison. 

Afterall, it was the swift nature of Elven attacks that made them so deadly. If they lost that, then an overencumbered Elf would hardly be any use on the battlefield. Sure they were more secure in iron armor, but most people would agree, it would be better to wear no armor, and never get hit, then to wear armor, and be forced to take a hit. 

So while he hated on his own people quite often, this was one case where he could let it slide. Where that that iron armor would truly shine, would be a more muscular race, such as the Trolls, Orcs, or Tauren. In the end, Varrus decided to settle on pimping out the Humans with high tier 'trash' gear as one of his many plans to win them over to his side. 

"Ahem, Highlord, you wanted me to remind you. It is time." Rho'dan said from the entrance to the office, then strode away. 

Varrus cracked a smile, it was time to get out of this stuffy office, and cleanse the land once more. 

Fortunately, his wife had been so supportive of him this entire time. When he was walking by the kitchen earlier, he saw Syra preparing a picnic basket. She had recovered well enough after their escapades, and had gotten right back to treating Varrus with her typical standoffish, yet clingy self. Syra truly was a cat scratch-snuggle away from plucking/hugging him to death! 

As for lunch, it was simple fair-nothing more than bread, cheese, lettuce, tomato, chicken and mayonnaise, but it was the thought that counted. Someone cared enough about him to go out of their way, waste their time, and make him a good meal. Anyone would appreciate someone like this. 

Especially when that someone was a psycho killer that would pluck out his eyeballs if he ate anyone else's cooking. It really set things into perspective just how loved he was. 

It didn't matter if he was an Elf now, or that his wife was madly in love. He still had that simple caveman mind at the back of his head, and he wholeheartedly believed that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. 

And boy could she cook! Somehow, that simple fair had transformed into the best damned sandwich of his life! Say what you want about Elves, but they had perfected the path to hedonism! 

Varrus smacked his lips, and strode out of his office with a positive stride in his step. 

Dealing with monotonous reports, and plotting against the enemies of his people paled in comparison to the smile on his wife's face (or the hunger in his belly). 

What was the power to command the fate of hundreds when Syra willingly, and gladly gave him her everything? 

What was the hatred and scorn of others when he was so loved at home? 

Varrus would sign a thousand documents, and burn his eyes reading scrolls long into the night so long as he could hear her laugh. 

What could he say? He was in love! 

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