[Amber Brightwing]

“Remember your place worm.” Spirotyn eyed Hathor as he passed, but refrained from his regular load of snide remarks and insults as he did with other lowly students. He preferred to keep those to a bare minimum when it came to the Katta. Not that he liked the guy or anything, but he had it from personal experience not to taunt certain people. He was an accomplished mage, but spell casting took some time. Only a brief moment, but more then sufficient for angry clawed beings to be at your throat.

Hathor didn’t need the Light Elf to show him what door in the great hall lead into Master Aribeal’s chambers. If he’d knock on it he’d soon hear a voice from the inside calling him to enter. Beyond the door was a rather dark and depressing room, lit only by a few candles here and their. To the left of the room was a bookcase, as well as a table partnered with a chair. In front there were three steps descending into a pool that made half a circle against the wall and that probably took up over half of the room.

On the chair sat the Mer, arms crossed. On the table sat a Fae, dressed in the dark crimson robes of the cult and bearing the same markings as Spirotyn, showing she too was a Journeyman. Hathor would no doubt have heard rumours about her or even seen her fly past at occasions. She was not only a promising student, but Thane of the Vortex on top of that, no small feat in this city for one of her size. As the Katta entered both turned to wards him, but only Aribeal spoke up. “So... Hathor, tell me, why is it that you joined us. Why do you want to learn Necromancy rather then pick up a weapon or other sphere?”