Heading towards his study for some quick enchantment work, Varrus left Rho'dan in a chipper mood. Finally, finally he was going to murder those bastards who had been plotting against him in the dark!

Over the last 4 or 5 days since the battle with the Amani, he had tried not to think about it too much because if he did, he would be jumping at every shadow, and live in constant paranoia.

Besides, there were other considerations at the time more important than any personal vendetta. Varrus had to hold a funeral, convince Lor'Themar to join the Convocation, get Kael to focus on Eversong instead of revenge, and take care of the actual running of the country.

Now that a few days had passed since the attempt on his life, and things cooled off a tad, this new lead was exactly what Varrus needed.

Taking inspiration from the Red Wedding in Game of Thrones, Varrus would be throwing the biggest gala since the Scourging of Silvermoon!

If he knew smug Elves-and he knew smug Elves-they would eat that shit up.

Heck, the very day of the Scourge invasion, Varrus had held an impromptu speech within the dance hall, and shared wine with the survivors, much to their applause!

Varrus would market it as a new start, as a meet and greet with the King and Convocation so that the ‘movers and shakers’ of society could get to know their new leaders. The self important and egotistical Elves would get a kick out of that.

And should Varrus not so discreetly use this event as another means to flex his wealth, power, and authority? Why, that was all a happy coincidence!

The more Varrus thought about it, the more excited he became. Whilst he wasn't much one for parties, he was looking forward to see the aghast looks on the Elves’ faces when he would recite Shakespear.

Meanwhile, he would kill two birds with one stone by revealing the cultists amongst high society. While Varrus disdained people who wanted him dead such as the Trolls, at least they were open about their hatred. In his opinion, he’d rather take that every day than a dagger in the back. Because there was nothing more disgusting on Earth or Azeroth than a traitor.

He fought tooth and nail against the zombies in a desperate bid for survival during the invasion, and instead of continuing to resist for a brighter future together, they joined the very perpetrators of their demise, the Scourge, at the first sign of immortality?

It was sickening!

Varrus didn't think he could have a lower evaluation of smug Elf behavior, yet somehow his new people found new lows.

He may have been lenient with Dakar considering that he was a political hostage securing Koren's loyalty. But anyone Varrus caught propagating the Cult of the Damned would receive no mercy.

Once he had purged Silvermoon of this cancer-both without and within-then he would work together with Kael’Thas to purge the taint from the Ghostlands. From there, Varrus would make new allies, and establish Quel'Thalas as the dominant power in the Eastern Kingdoms. To become a power that rivaled, or exceeded that of the Horde and the Alliance.

His happy go lucky friend was fortunate that all he had to do was smile, and smite their foe’s on the frontline. Meanwhile, Varrus had to root out the traitors, and hidden daggers lurking in the dark.

It was risky to gather everyone like this due to the level of danger collateral damage that could unfold, but he figured the reward would be well worth the risk. There also was no guarantee that some fish would slip through the net, and leave their amulets at home. However, these were cultists obsessed over immortality, who knew how rational most of them were? Varrus was willing to gamble on the fact that they might get conceited, and even use this event to flex upon one another with their social standing.

He could see the smug Elf conversation in his mind's eye, clear as day.

‘Oh, I didn't see you at the Vandercross banquet, what a surprise!’

It carried the same asshole energy as: ‘you don’t get to the Cloud District often, do you?’

Master crafters, ancient warriors, storied priests, and widened mages would be attending this event. Each and every one of them being hundreds or thousands of years older than Varrus. Two weeks ago, they had intimidated him during the Scourge invasion, threatening to abolish the Convocation. Essentially delegating Varrus to being just another noble’s useless scion, one who would have very little sway over Kael’Thas, or the direction that this country was headed towards.

All out of petty pride, and a hatred for a youth outshining them in their nation's most dire hour of need.

Hypocritical slime.

Simply put, Highborne culture was toxic like a French Renaissance court, and Varrus intended to dangle his Mana Stones over their pretty blonde heads like a parent jingling some keys. To remind them that for all their skills, influence and pride, they were beholden to the mercy of Vandercross!

Furthermore, so as to draw the cultists in, and not scare any away, Varrus decided to make this into a masked ball. With their identities seemingly hidden, even the most reticent would be willing to engage in the largest gathering of socialites post Scourge invasion.

With the big fish captured or killed, the ensuing interrogations would hopefully reveal the mastermind behind the cult, as well as all those bottom level subordinates that couldn't make it to the party.

Anonymity amongst cultists was an intelligent tactic, but Varrus didn't believe that every cultist was unaware of the identity of one or two other members. Like that, Varrus hoped to generate a domino effect, and snatch up the malcontents in one fell swoop.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

He had considered sending Rho'dan to sweep the streets with an amulet I'm hand, and see what he could find. However, Varrus didn't want to spook the rats to go deeper into their hidey holes.

Furthermore, it was too much of a pain in the ass to search out every single member of the Convocation and member of the wise one at a time. If he did that, Varrus was concerned that the real cultists would catch wind of the operation, and ditch their amulets.

In conclusion, he was banking upon Elven arrogance and desire for the risqué by holding this banquet. He figured the average cultist would be much too prideful to leave their amulets at home, and in a display of typical Elven idiocy, feel superiorly smug whilst internally deriding the regular party goers.

As to why Varrus was beholden to this amulet gimmick, and not using the spell Clairvoyance to find everyone?

Well, his Skyrim UI was useful for things like leveling, and spells, but he could not do things like fast travel, pause, save, or blindly follow the map.

Whilst Varrus sat himself down in his office, and got to work disenchanting the amulet, he inwardly sulked at the dubious usefulness of that particular Skyrim spell.

Clairvoyance.

It was a simple spell that: Shows the path to the current goal.

That was straightforward text, and theoretically, it should act no different than Jack Sparrow’s compass from Pirates of the Caribbean. Showing him the direction he needed to travel in regardless of what it is.

When Varrus cast Clairvoyance, a blue trail that only he could see would spawn in front of him, detailing a route like a car would for a GPS.

Theoretically, Varrus could focus on a goal like ‘take me to a font of limitless power’ or ‘my goal is to find my assassin’ or ‘my goal is to find Deathwing’ or even ‘take me to an ore vein of adamantium.’

Out of all of these suppositions, only the font of limitless power, and the goal to find Deathwing would generate a trail.

Take for example, the maze he had entered when competing with Kael’Thas. He knew that he needed a flag, he knew roughly where it was (atop the very visible big ass tree in the center), all the GPS had to do was find him a way. Just like in real life, a person might be visiting a major city, and want to find the airport. They know the airport exists, and the mapping software plans the route based upon the user's inputs.

Varrus roughly knew where two of these places were. The font of limitless power was the Well of Eternity on Kalimdor, and Varrus knew Deathwing was chilling at Deepholm within the Elemental Planes (which could be found in the maelstrom between the continents of Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms).

These were two known locations to Varrus that for lack of a better phrase, the 'mapping software’ of Clairvoyance could find.

However, when it came to an undefined quantity, such as an assassin, or pile of ore, Clairvoyance would be about as useful as GPS in real life.

That is to say, not very useful at all.

However, should he come to learn of the identity of the assassin and their general area, or the location of the ore, he could then use Clairvoyance to track them down at any time.

Much like how the government tracks the location of every cellphone, Varrus would then be able to track other people/things, so long as they were a known quantity. As it stood, Clairvoyance was a spell highly dependent on places rather than people or objects.

Clairvoyance was also useful in finding specific quest objectives.

His quest log was full to the brim due to all sorts of rumors and random gossip he had picked up.

Using his first three quests as an example showcased the limitations of the spell.

1. [Survive the Scourge Invasion of Silvermoon]

1. [Remember the Sunwell!: repair the Sunwell 0/999,999,999 mana]

1. [Retake Silvermoon: 19,222/20,000 Undead slain]

For quest 1, Clairvoyance would not take Varrus anywhere specific.

In quest 2, Clairvoyance would take Varrus to the ruins of the Sunwell, but it would not tell Varrus how he was to repair the Sunwell.

Finally, in quest 3, the specific quest text further detailed that the Undead resided within a place, Silvermoon. Clairvoyance would lead Varrus to a general area where the Undead would be, much like how a GPS could take you to a store, but finding parking would be up to the driver.

However, if he had a more specific quest such as [Kill Halduron Brightwing 0/1] then and only then would Clairvoyance direct Varrus straight to his mark.

In conclusion, Clairvoyance was a useful spell, but one ultimately held back by its GPS-like limitations.

That meant that Varrus would have to continue his investigation into the assassin the old fashioned way with the amulets.

Summoning the enchanting table thanks to the Alteration spell Fabricate Object, Varrus got to disenchanting the item.

When he saw the item description in his inventory, it was a Plague God's Necklace, and it had only one affect: [Slowly transforms the bearer into an Afflicted]

Upon reading the text description, Varrus almost dropped it, and hissed as he held up the evil object.

He didn't know exactly what an Afflicted was, and he didn't want to find out. Thankfully, he noticed no change in his status, and it appeared that holding on to the necklace was harmless enough. However, he wouldn't dare place it around his neck!

Quickly disenchanting it, Varrus then made 5 copies. He only trusted the Crossguard to hold onto these, and even then, he could never be too careful. If this plan was going to work, secrecy would be the mother to success.

There was an old saying his father used to say once he left the army/coast guard.

Loose lips sink ships.

Varrus intended to tell Syra, and his guards. Then when Kael arrived as the party was underway, and only then would Varrus inform his friend. Whilst he trusted Kael-despite his dubious recent bout with Fel corruption-he couldn't risk operational security by informing even his best friend.

Stowing the 5 new amulets into his inventory, Varrus left his home to finally begin the long and tedious work of cleansing the Dead Scar.

It was boring, laborious work, but it had to get done.

Thinking of it positively, it was just one more action that he could hold over those damn smug Elves who looked down at him for his young age.

When he put it that way, it made hosing down this dank corrupted earth not seem like that much of a chore!

With a smile on his face, and a spring in his step, Varrus eagerly got to work with the thought of those smug pricks bending over backwards in an effort not to offend him!

As Syra had said as of late, nobody crosses a Vandercross!