Chapter 82

It was on a slightly overcast afternoon day that Varrus took to the walls. The sea of Undead were maniacal in their hunger for flesh. Skeletons clattered their teeth, ghouls howled in unrepentant rage, and the screams of banshees carried on the wind, all thirsting for the living to join their ranks. 

There were two gatehouses leading into Tranquillien, and Varrus had posted up on the south side with his troops, alongside the governor, whilst Liadrin, Thaladred, and Koren were shuffled to the northern gatehouse. 

It was from this defensive position that the overwhelming stench of plague and filth assaulted Varrus's sense of smell, and rekindled old memories. Hatred, anger, and fear warred in Varrus's heart as he recalled those early hectic days when he first woke up chained to a bed in Silvermoon. 

Images of people, children, being torn apart and devoured flashed through his mind. Unconsciously balling his fists, Varrus knew that if they failed to hold here, then that same fate would be revisited across all of Quel'Thalas. 

Yet call him selfish, but the safety and security of his wife was his priority. Perhaps it was worthy of criticism, but he would always put his family and loved ones first. 

"Stay safe." Varrus whispered to Syra, and gripped her tightly, almost afraid to let go. 

He was confident, but he still had some fear in him. Varrus recalled what arrogance had gotten him, he had almost died in the jaws of that lynx Loa! If a man outnumbered 10 to 1 didn't feel even an inkling of nervousness, then Varrus would like to buy that guy a beer, because this shit was terrifying. 

Thankfully, he had some skills, but more importantly, Varrus had the most perfect woman in the world standing by his side. 

"As you wish." Syra leaned back into his embrace. 

"Should the worst come to worst, we can always regroup at another loca-"

"Shhhh." Syra slowly let out, and placed a finger on Varrus's lips. 

"We're going to win. After all, you have me by your side." Syra winked, then twisted around in Varrus's embrace so that they were facing one another. 

"By the Light, you're sexy when you talk like that." Varrus whispered hotly. 

Syra replied with a toothy grin, and a cheeky grab on Varrus's buttocks before pulling away. 

"Tch." Varrus made a noise, wanting more, but knowing that they had played around long enough. 

Taking a deep breath, Varrus centered himself. He ignored the copious amount of screeching coming from the Undead, and turned it into white noise, like a distant freeway, or busy railroad. He tuned out the atrocious stench wafting over the air, and he placed a hand over his chest to calm himself. 

In the end, he furrowed his brow, and replaced the fear he felt for Syra, and exchanged it for hatred towards the enemy. 

A seething white hot rage emanated from him as he beheld the Scourge. The small thoughts about losing, and what-ifs fled his mind in favor of one thought. 

'I'm going to win this shit.' 

However, the world did not stop for Varrus or Syra, and the siege upon Tranquillien had been well underway. As he had shared a moment with Syra, the Undead were advancing. 

Directed by intelligent commanders, the largest Undead, who were standing at 13 to 20ft tall acted as shields, whilst their smaller counterparts began to slam down ladder after ladder upon the walls. Some of the giant abominations began to scale the wall, and had skeleton archers mounted upon their shoulders/backs providing covering fire. 

A constant barrage of arrows, and magic bolts were unleashed from the Scourge line, in an attempt to keep the defenders heads down with covering fire. 

In response, mages and priests would erect temporary shields, and other buffs to mitigate the assault. 

This was somewhat effective, allowing the Blood Elves to knock over a quarter of the ladders, and snipe the enemy mages. 

However, the large abominations began to scoop up skeletons, and ghouls by the handful, and tossed them either onto, or over the wall. Furthermore, Undead mages cast Frost Shield on their allies, making them resistant to fireballs, and most attacks, further mitigating the defenders efforts. 

Syra and the rest of the reinforcements swiftly dealt with these nuisances being tossed upon the walls, however, the ladders were ever increasing in number, and the half-mile gap between the wall and the barrier was being refreshed by a new wave of Undead every second. 

Twin Arcane Towers thumped down an Arcane bolt every 5-10 seconds, crashing down with the force of a cannon ball, yet seemed to be about as useful at culling the limitless horde as pissing in the wind. 

Varrus saw the ineffectiveness of the Elven forces when faced with such overwhelming numbers, and decided to start things off like any good support with a round of buffs and debuffs. 

The first spell that came to mind when he saw such a large army stomping on the plains below, was the Control Weather spell. There were a lot of big boys in that army, and they were quite densely packed. It'd be a real shame if the ground became a thick slurry of mud! 

With this thought in mind, Varrus brought down the rain. 

It would be detrimental to fire spells, true, but Arcane magic incinerated just as good, as it was literally pure energy, and even frost magic worked against Undead as it was kinetic force + freezing properties. Diminishing fire magic in exchange for crippling the enemy was worth it in Varrus's book. 

Besides, mud affected ALL of the Undead. Without proper flesh to close the gaps, it would cling to, and weigh down the Scourge forces considerably. Furthermore, they may be supernatural, but they could still slip, and fall into one another. 

Within a minute of the rain dropping, he could already see results. The overall speed of the army had dropped by a quarter, and some of the abominations were getting trapped like some elephants were wont to do after a rainstorm. Multiple abominations had their legs sucked right into the mud due to their massive weight. Then, uncaring of any bodily damage, would use so much force to escape, that they'd rio their legs off! 

Next, Varrus buffed his allies. 

He immediately threw down Call to Arms, and Rally upon every ally stationed at the gatehouse, buffing their health, stamina, crit chance, damage, and weapon ability among other things. 

The effect showed immediate results, as a lucky shot from an ice bolt on one of the giant abominations saw its arm freeze, and shatter into a thousand little pieces. 

Roaring as it clawed upward towards the wall, the abomination struggled to move, before ultimately collapsing upon a pile of skeletons, crushing more than a dozen of its compatriots. 

Varrus then cast Conjure Battlemage, summoning five powerful, ethereal-looking Elite mages to fight by his side. 

Upon summoning, they immediately began to unleash Adept and Expert level Destruction spells from the Apocalypse Magic mod, such as Bolide, Sleet Storm, or Lightning Strike. Steady streams of meteorites, bolts of lightning, and countless shards of ice belched from their hands, and decimated hundreds of Common zombies. 

As for Varrus, he decided he would refrain from unleashing any spectacular Master tier Destruction spells just yet. He wanted to show the enemy commanders that he was a threat, one that needed to be taken out. However, he didn't want to show his hand too early. If he could lull the arrogant former Crown Prince into a false sense of security, and over commit whilst Varrus was lying in wait, well then, all the better! 

It was to that end that Varrus had opted to utilize his Alteration/Illusion spells, over his Restoration or Destruction magic for the time being. 

Thanks to the perk, Master of the Mind, his Illusion spells worked on Demons, Undead, and automata. 

Meaning that not even the dead were safe from his mind magics! 

It was time to introduce a little chaos to this battlefield. 

Concentrating energy on both his hands, a bright red light pierced the sky as he unleashed a Master tier Illusion spell. 

It was: 

Mayhem. 

The red light descended upon a cluster of more than 200 skeletons, ghouls, and even a giant abomination or two. 

The Frost Shields proved fruitless in blocking Varrus's magic, as they were only designed to block elemental or kinetic energy. Whereas Varrus's spell affected the mind! 

Red light seeped into these minions of the Scourge, and within a second of the spell taking hold of them, they turned upon their neighboring skeleton, or other Undead ally, and reacted with violence. 

Skeletons, and ghouls began to bash one another dead, and the pair of abominations stomped out even more. 

But that wasn't all. Every single positive buff from the Illusion skill tree was applied to those under the effects of Mayhem. 

Furthermore, an additional perk, Pandemonium was enacted, further boosting their damage by another 50%! 

By the time the necromancers and Scourge commanders had realized what was going on, over 3,000 Undead had been turned into paste by their compatriots. 

Due to this distraction, the ladder assault had grown chaotic, and disorganized whilst the Scourge commanders reorganized their ranks to deal with this internal threat. This left a gap open in their assault, one that Syra, and the other Heroes/Elites swiftly capitalized on. 

"That's my husband, Varrus Vandercross!" Syra cheered as she effortlessly bisected a dozen ghouls in a second, then crushed a skeleton warrior's skull under her heels. 

"Vandercross! Vandercross! Vandercross!" The warriors and paladins of House Vandercross banged their shields, and cried loudly as they repelled the first wave, and cut down the ladders. 

Not one Elf from House Vandercross had fallen during the attack, and those Irregulars part of Tranquillien's forces who had been injured, were quickly healed by a potion or priest. 

Varrus didn't smile or let the praise get to him, however, he did make sure to wave at his wife, and acknowledge her with a quick wink of the eye. 

Mayhem was a cute little spell, but it was limited by its range. In Skyrim, it was a close range spell, it was only thanks to his copious use of magic, and enhanced Spell Power that he could direct it to a distance further than the original spell text. Varrus found that the more he experimented with, and wielded magic, the more he could bend the spells he had inherited from the Skyrim UI. It was a slow, difficult process, but the results spoke for themselves. Besides studying his father's family magic, this was another avenue Varrus was interested in pursuing on the quest to advance his magic above the Master tier, and contend with demi-gods. 

"They cheered too soon, but the morale is good." Allatrocx idly commented as he directed a snake-shaped flame into the enemy lines, incinerating over 500 Undead in a matter of seconds. 

The Magister Governor then pointed his chin towards a pair of ziggurats that were posted on parallel hills some distance away. Their constant bombardment upon the town shield acted as a source of anxiety, because knowing that should they find a weak spot, or eventually wear away at the barrier, there would be nothing stopping the Undead from using other long ranged weapons. 

"Yes, I agree. Rho'dan!" Varrus called to his side. 

"Highlord!" Rho'dan saluted. 

"You are to hold this spot. My wife and I have some urgent business to conduct." Varrus said, glancing at both the ziggurats, as well as the shuddering shield protecting Quel'Thalas. 

Rho'dan followed Varrus's gaze, and pursed his lips. Each ziggurat was defended by a flock of patrolling gargoyles, and an entire host of powerful Elites. 

"I don't like it, Highlord. It is likely that they are each guarded by a Hero. If you two were surrounded…I fear even the both of you might not be able to escape the encirclement of a handful of Heroes and a thousand Elites." Rho'dan crossed his arms, and expressed his concern.

"Duly noted, but it has to be done." Varrus said with false cheer, and clapped Rho'dan on the shoulder. 

The stoic, red headed guard uncrossed his arms, and silently placed a hand on Varrus's shoulder in turn, and nodded. 

No more words were needed between them as they already knew that Varrus had made up his mind. 

"The Light be with you, First Seat." Allatrocx's poshly accented voice conveyed with the deepest of sincerity and respect. 

"Do not abandon your post, Magister Governor, when I return, I expect the city to be standing." Varrus grinned. 

"On my life, First Seat. One of my rangers will direct you to a secret exit when you are ready." Allatrocx slightly inclined his head, before he returned to the battle. 

Varrus then cast a shroud of Muffle around him and Syra so that their conversation would not be leaked. 

"Well, my love, I apologize for volunteering you-"

Syra clunked her forehead onto his, and interrupted his speech with a wet kiss. 

"If you ever, ever thought about leaving me behind to go off solo, hehehehe." Syra spoke fast, and in a threatening manner, she then ended her threat with a sinister laugh. 

Violet flashed in her eyes, yet gold pierced through the purple, and naked obsession tinged with a hint of madness gripped Syra as she explored his mouth with her tongue. 

"Haaah." Syra pulled away, and breathed heavily onto Varrus's chest as she pulled herself closer to him. 

"Always remember, Varrus, you are mine, and I am yours. Where you go, I go. Whoever threatens you, I kill. Whoever so much looks at you-like a certain redhead-I kill. You feel the same way, don't you?" Syra looked up at Varrus, whilst she clung to him, flashing him a warmth filled smile. 

If it were any other time, Varrus might feel a spine tingling chill go down his back. However, they were on the battlefield, a warzone of epic proportions. The one thing more comforting than anything else, was having someone like Syra at your back. 

Varrus wordlessly ruffled Syra's hair, and slowly massaged the back of her neck exactly where she liked it. 

He then covered his mouth, so that none could read his lips. 

"Our targets are the pair of ziggurats bombarding the city shield. I noticed that every time an Undead permanently perished, the Death energy permeating the air becomes that much stronger. The rate of decay that Tae'thelon had theorized is no longer constant. If we sit idly and do nothing but kill more Scourge, then it is a fact that the shield will crack." Varrus softly intoned. 

"The enemy leader is quite clever then. Throwing such weaklings at us wears us down, then fuels the magic used to break our barrier at the same time. If I were them, I would commit even more forces to sell the seeming desperation, and make the defenders grow overconfident in their easy success." Syra swiftly analyzed. 

Varrus nodded, impressed by Syra's quick uptake of the situation. It was easy for him to forget that she fought in a war, and likely was accustomed to many different tactics and strategies. 

When every problem of hers was seemingly solved at the business end of a 8-10ft long slab of steel, she appeared to be somewhat muscle headed. 

However, she had demonstrated time and again that she was actually quite intelligent! 

"Brains, beauty, and brawn. I must be the luckiest man in the world." Varrus rolled his eyes, and rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. 

"Yes, you are." Syra nodded along like it was the most obvious fact in the world. 

Varrus stole a quick kiss, then broke the shroud of Muffle. 

"Once more unto the breach." Varrus said, as he signaled towards one of Allatrocx's rangers to lead them to the secret exit. 

Entering a series of prisons, dungeons, and underground cellars, they finally emerged in the outside world somewhere near the bottom of the clifface that the town rested upon. 

Seeing the muddy hellscape he had created with the weather spell, Varrus could only palm his forehead In frustration. 

"Me and my big brain." Varrus sighed at the double edged sword that was the mud. 

"Just follow my lead." Syra said, then walked upon the mud without leaving a single track. 

Varrus's face brightened. 

'Duh! I'm an Elf! Light as a feather, and I literally have a permanent status condition called [Elven Grace]' Varrus thought to himself, and stepped upon the mud, finding much to his delight that he didn't sink, or fall in. 

Letting out a gasp of relief, Varrus set his sights on the closest ziggurat. The Scourge Commanders may think themselves clever with their scheme, but he'd give them a black eye, and disappear back to Tranquillien before they knew what hit them! 

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