I'd Rather Face the Kraken...

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wisp

wisp

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Derya fidgeted in the wagon as it rolled up, not far from the Arcane Sanctum's entrance. As they drew to a halt, the elf peeled off the cloak and scarf she wore over her own outfit and left them behind. Hopping down, she thanked the driver and watched as it trundled off. Lifting her chin, Derya mustered up all the courage that a young Elf might and began the short walk to the Sanctum. Every step she worried something might interfere, some hand would reach out and grab her. The bogeymen of her childhood would suddenly catch up to her. She felt her youth in a way she had never realized before, a way she often denied.

And then she was in the main doors and looking for someone who could direct her. She cleared her throat before raising her voice. "I am here to see The Arch-Mage Az'Caine. He is expecting me."
 
The attendant looks up at the Elf and then her eyes widen in surprise. It takes Derya a second to catch on that the attendant is not looking at her, but past her. A large shadow falls over Derya and a heavy paw rests on her shoulder. "My, my, you have been busy touring the streets, alleys and apparently small hovels." The paw turns her around abruptly and she stands face to face with a very large Lion Saar. He is wearing a breastplate emblazoned with the Arcane Sanctum crest, a massive flamberge strapped across his back. "Do you really think wearing piss stained clothing could mask your scent? Your room was easy to find and tracking you from there was not overly difficult. The mix of smells was almost a beacon." he leans in close and takes another sniff, wrinkling his nose.

He looks past Derya to the attendant. "I will see this one personally to the ArchMage." The attendant just continues to look at the massive Saar and nods slowly. "Of course Marshal Farr'Shen. I will let the ArchMage know to expect the both of you post haste."

Marshal Farr'Shen, Magi of the Arcane Sanctum's Templars nods to Derya and points to a large opening that leads to the main tower of the Sanctum. "I do hope you can manage the climb." he states through a snarl.

The Marshal takes a few steps and then stops abruptly, sniffing the air. "Why does is smell like a Northern mud hut in here?" he asks, mostly to himself. A sly grin spreads across his lips as he looks across the expanse of the main tower.
 
A quizzical look crosses Derya's face as the attendant's eyes go wide. The drop of a shadow causes her own eyes to mirror and at the touch of the paw, the young Elf visibly jumps, barely muffling a surprised cry. Coat flaring as she is turned, defense mechanisms kick in and Derya's chin is suddenly raised haughtily, even as her face flushes a deep crimson. This is Farr'Shen? Blue balls of a rutting gnoll...you're in it now, point-ear. She manages to dance her cocky little grin across her lips as the Lion Saar speaks, though it wavers. "Some of us, most noble Farr'Shen, actually have to -work- for what we have. I apologize if the scent of my decent living offends your senses. Maybe if you held your nose just a -wee- bit higher, you'd manage to avoid it." She pauses and looks to where the Saar points, beginning to set out, exaggerating her usual swagger so that each steps seems a jaunty thing. "Though, with how you've been sniffing, a girl could start to think you fancied her. Not that I'd blame you."

Casting a grin over her shoulder, Derya decided that maybe it would be best if she kept a number of paces ahead of the Saar. She also prayed he couldn't smell the icy grip he had on her guts. At his mention of a Northern mud hut her nose wrinkles and her gaze shoots back forward. Yup, best to get to the Arch'mage as fast as possible.

((Edited to address the final comment, since I forgot to))
 
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