Like an annoying gnat buzzing around his head, the thought of Haruna storming after him was constantly on Varres’s mind, so much so that he scarcely had time to appreciate his surroundings. The Halls of Origination were awe-inspiring, even if one completely discounted the theories that all life on Azeroth was created here in some sort of experiment by the long-forgotten titans. Jutting from the desert sands it was supposedly untold millennia old, yet by the condition of its smooth gleaming metal and stone it looked as if it had been completed only yesterday. Deep symmetrical grooves adorned the main pyramid, off-set with bias reliefs of scarabs and slits bleeding cerulean energy. Varres had thought that nothing could match the grandeur of Silvermoon, with its golden spires blazing in the sun, its floating towers, the perfectly manicured green spaces and perpetual waterfalls utilizing magical portals, but these ruins held a primeval power and sense of scale that made his beloved city look like the crude sand castles of a toddler.<br/><br/>Checking his map one last time Varres pulled up to the entrance, noting the remnants of previous expeditions camped outside by the broken tent supports and wind-flayed canvas fluttering in the scouring gusts. He wouldn’t be sticking around, however, to be beset by scorpions the size of warhorses and desert raiders. He would be in and out as quickly as he could, and then back for his payout. Giving his mount one last fond pat Varres set off at a quick pace, taking the broad steps two at a time before stalking past the main threshold and into the atrium.<br/><br/>Following his map directly while under the watchful, vaguely stern gaze of various statues and busts adorning the walls, eventually finding himself in a large chamber with three large clear cylinders on pedestals, each containing a different hue of sand. A larger pedestal sat behind the three, yellow light glaring up from a depression in the middle. Upon entering into the massive room a combination of three colors began to blink on the far wall, projected from somewhere above, varying in duration and sequence, before shutting off. Cracking his neck and releasing a long breath, the blood elf stepped forward. “ I fucking love these puzzles. “<br/><br/>Sometime later and after numerous aborted attempts and many elven curses, the door at the far wall began to open, mechanisms in the wall squealing and grinding to pull the titanic portals aside, each half disappearing into their respective walls. With a screech that made Varres clap his hands over his long ears the doors ground to a halt, barely parted at all. “ I suppose asking for these doors to open just one more time would be too much, “ he asked the empty room. Approaching the door he saw the interlocking flanges that helped hold the door closed had hardly moved at all, leaving small gaps between the trapezoidal teeth. Sitting on his haunches the elf eyed the bottom most opening and, with a shrug, began to slide himself into the small gap.<br/><br/>He managed to get his torso into the space when his rapier caught on the side, halting his progress suddenly, back end still protruding from the other side in a less-than-dignified pose. Shifting his body around and reaching back down his body to shift the weapon aside he managed to drag it into a position that would not hinder him, and continued to crawl, trying desperately to keep the thought of what the door would do to him if it suddenly started closing.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>