Slowly flying back to his manor from the Isle of Quel'Danas, Varrus brooded over his mother's words.
Was he really lacking in focus?
Until now, he was fighting for survival, now that he had returned the Sunwell to his people, he was fighting for revenge.
But could it really be his revenge? The zombie invasion didn't hit him like it did everyone else. He was, after all, a man of Earth.
Truthfully, Varrus was feeling nervous. He had so many preparations, but would they be enough? Until now, he had been gathering allies, building weapons of war, and raising Elite & Heroic troops.
Yet the Scourge was a terrifying foe.
Arthas, with the full might of the Undead brute forced his way all the way up to the gates of Quel'Thalas. Even with the power of the Sunwell, there was nothing the Elves could do to stop him.
"....damn." Varrus clenched his fist over his heart as these negative thoughts ate away at his psyche.
The very close deaths three days ago were more palpable then he would like to admit.
If he was being honest with himself, conquering Quel'Thalas had been somewhat easy. The Darkfallen were idiots, and self destructive. He would be ashamed if he had failed to win over them. The Amani campaign was a challenge, but in a twist of fate, the Elves were barely outnumbered thanks to previous cleansings. The Gilneans and Kobolds had been a cakewalk.
Admittedly, Varrus had started to believe in his own invincibility again. Sure, he set up defenses around the Sunwell as he expected trouble, but the Bronze Dragonflight dropped a hammer on his head so hard, he was closer to death at any point since the first day of his transmigration.
Then the events of the Emerald Dream popped up due to the butterfly effect.
Varrus didn't consider himself cowardly, but there was a very real chance that something nasty would get ahold of his soul when he died.
There were multiple Hells in this universe inhabited by Daedric Princes, and Varrus wanted no part of them!
Hissing away a turbid breath, Varrus decided he would seek out Lor'Themar. Perhaps the old man would have some sage advice for him. He put up with Sylvanas, maybe he could soothe Varrus's nerves before this major offensive.
Following Clairvoyance, Varrus was surprised that it took him to a cottage in some burnt oit woods.
Jumping down onto some crunchy dead foliage, Varrus noted there was a log table outside, and a small, unassuming garden.
Before his hand hit the door, a voice called him in.
"Lor'Themar." Varrus nodded in respect at the Ranger General as he entered his home.
For a man of such stature, his abode was rather simple. Lor'Themar had no paintings, fine silks, or shiny pottery on display. Unlike a typical Elven home, most appliances were crafted from simple clay, or carved wood.
In fact, Lor'Themar was carving something this very moment.
Blowing some wood shavings off the item, Varrus saw that it was a tiny shoe.
Blinking his eyes wide open, Varrus realized that there were hundreds of such shoes.
"What is the purpose of this?" Varrus asked.
"You look nervous." Lor'Themar responded instead, without ever once raising his head up from his task.
"That obvious?" Varrus sighed as he looked around the place, searching for a seat.
"Here, take this." Lor'Themar stood from his seat, and gestured for him to step forward.
"If this is some prank." Varrus frowned.
"No tricks. Take a seat, and hold onto this." Lor'Themar said, handing him the half finished shoe, and carving tool.
"I don't think carving-"
"You're lost. Listen." Lor'Themar patiently responded, and began to heat up a kettle with a fire.
The slow cackle of flames, and slow bubbling sound of water crisply entered Varrus's ears. Sitting there holding the carving tool, he felt like a dumbass.
He wanted advice, direct advice from someone experienced, not some bs mystical metaphor.
"Haah, I should go." Varrus sighed, and moved to stand.
"I lost 30 men on my first command. Joa'tha an arrow to the temple, Durai gored by a tusk his organs were devoured while he was kept alive, Xom'na she was raped until…" Lor'Themar opened up, then listed every single name from his unit, and how they died.
When Lor'Themar was done speaking, Varrus found some time had passed, and he had a warm mug of tea shoved into his hands.
Taking a sip, Varrus found it to be an incredibly bitter brew. As someone who liked it sweet, this was ordinarily a turn off, yet today, watching Lor'Themar recount his tale, it was just what he needed.
Upon finishing his tale, Lor'Themar took a sip, then looked at him with understanding and compassion.
"I went on to lose four more skirmishes, and one big battle in my career. Most recently, my inability to keep Zul'Jin locked up resulted in the near extinction of our race. Do you think I wasn't afraid when I faced that Troll on the beach? That I did not feel panic when I learnt of the Convocation, and King's demise?
That I did not feel reticence when it was me, and no other who had to hold Silvermoon, or die trying?" Lor'Themar pitilessly laughed, and stared Varrus in the eyes without blinking.
"How did you do it?" Varrus quietly questioned.
"If you can do good, do good. If I didn't make a stand who would? Who else but me?"
The Ranger General's words seemed to pierce Varrus's soul, and his admiration for the old man grew.
He so often hated this man when he acted as Regent in WoW. But now, seeing what he had gone through, what he had lived, he understood.
"Thank you." Varrus said, bowing his head as if he were bidding farewell to an old, respected teacher.
"Heh, I am just a woodworker masquerading as a ranger on the side. Rumor has it House Vandercross has something cooking up, and a baby boom is soon to hit Quel'Thalas. I'm just helping prepare for the next generation." Lor'Themar smiled with warmth.
"Thank you." Varrus bowed once more, and stood to leave.
Heart now at ease, Varrus had one more thing he wanted to check out before he turned in for the day.
Lor'Themar's words had reminded him of something.
Teleporting home, Varrus stood outside Starbottle's workshop, and watched from a distance as 5 couples from House Vandercross were being examined by wet nurses.
All 5 of them were pregnant. The fertility potion was a huge success.
Leaving to Starbottle's office, Varrus saw the beautiful Undead brewing something over a cauldron, and remained silent so as not to cause an accident.
"You have what you wanted, now release me from your service. I do not wish to slave away over bubbling pots every day creating the most mundane potions needed for armies and riff raff! I am Starbottle. I conjure fate, capture dreams, and create miracles! I am not some Monday to Friday potioneer!" Starbottle spat at Varrus with uncontrollable venom.
Although she was under the effects of Dead Thrall, and was 100% loyal to him, she still had a vile mouth.
Varrus couldn't blame her either, he would feel similarly if he was in her position. Sadly, she was so incredibly useful. No one else in all of Quel'Thalas had her knowledge, arguably, she was the best alchemist in all of Azeroth.
"....I cannot. Not yet. After this campaign against the Scourge is through, I want you to teach me. Then, when you have taught me all you know, will I release you." Varrus spoke with finality.
"Tch. You are a nasty playboy, Varrus Vandercross. Fine. But a deal is a deal." Starbottle huffed, and crossed her arms in bitter resignation.
"I am sorry. It is for the survival of Quel'Thalas." Varrus bowed his head, and apologized.
As he left the office, and was returning towards his own room, he overheard a conversation with the soon to be parents.
"They said the baby will be born in 7 months…isn't that premature. A deformed child hasn't been heard of in thousands of years…"
"No, no. The child will be born normally. These potions have the added effect of increasing the fetus's growth."
"Oh, then I will become prettier faster!"
"Exactly!"
Varrus ignored the rest of the vapid fitness talk, and focused in on one key detail.
That the pregnancy would be shorter than the normal 9 month cycle!
Thinking like this, Varrus wondered what would happen if he became a Master Alchemist, then with the 300% buff to all magical disciplines within the 3 mile radius of the Sunwell…just how potent could he make these fertility potions? How far could he push the limits, and transform them into something more?
In 10 years time, would there be a million more Elves?
Chuckling to himself, Varrus realized he'd have to tell Lor'Themar his speed at carving shoes was much too slow!
Moving across his manor with a spring in his step, Varrus realized he had a focus.
Raising the next generation.
The institutions required for their growth, securing their safety, teaching them better values than the decadent High Elves.
This was his new purpose! In fact, ever since Syra had confessed her dream to him of having 12 children, it had always been his purpose!
Slamming the door open to his room, Varrus found Syra training in a yoga-like outfit. Marching up to her, Varrus didn't say a word as he pulled her in for a tight kiss.
"The potion was a success. After we secure the sub-continent, I'll feel safe enough." Varrus said with determination.
This decision was a big one, the biggest of his life. But he was positive that this was what he wanted.
Feeding off his aura, Syra gave Varrus a bashful, nervous, yet excited look.
"You don't mean?!" Syra panted, barely able to get her words out, she was so happy.
"That's right. We're finally going to be parents." Varrus said, his own words so difficult to speak, it felt as if his mouth was clogged with peanut butter.
Breathing heavily, Syra leaned onto Varrus for support, and embraced him tightly, as if she never wanted to let go.
"Haha, I know that look. You want to do it now. But I wouldn't want to put the child at risk. Once the big danger has passed. That will be our time. Soon, Syra, soon. You have waited a couple decades, a few months isn't much more for an Elf." Varrus laughed at Syra's cute 'I want my (insert thing she wants) now' look, then soothed her by gently massaging the back of her hand.
"Ah, Varrus! You troublemaker!" Syra pummeled him on the chest, and moved to take off his clothes.
"Ah, ah. Not today. I have something big planned for tonight. Let's just sit and enjoy eachothers company until then." Varrus pulled Syra into a couch, and activated a few enchanted instruments in the room.
Closing his eyes to the sound of soft classical music, Varrus held his woman close, and resolved himself for tomorrow.
He had listened to his mother and Lor'Themar, absorbed their wisdom and reflected.
While it would be a lie to say he wasn't worried or scared to face tens of millions of Undead, possibly thousands of Heroes, and a handful of Demigods, that would be a lie.
However, it was as Lor'Themar said.
Who else but me?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~