Professor Lillian Harper's Office --- The Art of Alchemy
Upon entering the dimly lit classroom, you are struck by the cloying fragrance of nearly a dozen lavender scented candles, which fails to mask the pungent odor of acid and disinfectant that permeates the room. The wall to your left is lined with metal lockers, the dull red paint failing to hide copious patches of rust. The one to your right consists entirely of a jumbled collection of rickety bookcases and bureaus, stuffed with badly worn books, scrolls, and what appear to be jars of preserved bugs. The teacher's desk, carved with bizarre designs of eerie tentacled things, sits at the head of the classroom, prominently displaying an impressively precarious collection of stacked documents that struggles desperately to hide the pile of half opened crates overflowing from the storage room beyond. What little free wall space that remains is covered with faded sheets of parchment inscribed with arcane symbols and diagrams. The stone floor is pockmarked with a veritable road map of cracks, stains, and wear lines, though many of the larger ones are obscured by a set of tidily arranged but equally beaten desks, the only concession to organization in this den of chaos. On each desk is a slip of heavily edited but very official looking parchment that reads:
Dear Beloved Student,
I regret to inform you that your cat has expired due to
It is my pleasure to welcome you to my humble classroom. Unfortunately, I cannot welcome you in person due to extenuating circumstances entirely within my control that, sadly, I chose to ignore until it was too late. I hope to meet you very soon!
I did everything I could, but the poor sucker just would not submit to my considerable talents and had to be shoveled off this mortal coil before.
If you have signed up for this class, chances are that you are hoping to explore alternative methods of spellcasting, and I applaud your choice! Far too many wizards rely solely on the old mana reserve to get them through a crisis, flinging spell after ineffectual spell at a problem that clearly requires a more intelligent approach.
Despite my superior intellect, which I acknowledge with considerable humility, I simply could not save, and I apologize for that. I also offer my sincerest condolences to family and friends, and I hope that if they ever find themselves at my door, they will permit me to serve them as I tried so desperately to serve .
I look forward to teaching and hopefully getting to know you all, and I hope we can have a wonderful year together!
Despite this tragedy, I hope we can in order to so that we might continue with our lives in peace with the knowledge that is and therefore unlikely to ever suffer again.
Sincerely,
Professor Lillian Harper
Upon entering the dimly lit classroom, you are struck by the cloying fragrance of nearly a dozen lavender scented candles, which fails to mask the pungent odor of acid and disinfectant that permeates the room. The wall to your left is lined with metal lockers, the dull red paint failing to hide copious patches of rust. The one to your right consists entirely of a jumbled collection of rickety bookcases and bureaus, stuffed with badly worn books, scrolls, and what appear to be jars of preserved bugs. The teacher's desk, carved with bizarre designs of eerie tentacled things, sits at the head of the classroom, prominently displaying an impressively precarious collection of stacked documents that struggles desperately to hide the pile of half opened crates overflowing from the storage room beyond. What little free wall space that remains is covered with faded sheets of parchment inscribed with arcane symbols and diagrams. The stone floor is pockmarked with a veritable road map of cracks, stains, and wear lines, though many of the larger ones are obscured by a set of tidily arranged but equally beaten desks, the only concession to organization in this den of chaos. On each desk is a slip of heavily edited but very official looking parchment that reads:
Dear
I regret to inform you that your cat has expired due to
It is my pleasure to welcome you to my humble classroom. Unfortunately, I cannot welcome you in person due to extenuating circumstances entirely within my control that, sadly, I chose to ignore until it was too late. I hope to meet you very soon!
I did everything I could, but the poor sucker just would not submit to my considerable talents and had to be shoveled off this mortal coil before
If you have signed up for this class, chances are that you are hoping to explore alternative methods of spellcasting, and I applaud your choice! Far too many wizards rely solely on the old mana reserve to get them through a crisis, flinging spell after ineffectual spell at a problem that clearly requires a more intelligent approach.
Despite my superior intellect, which I acknowledge with considerable humility, I simply could not save
I look forward to teaching and hopefully getting to know you all, and I hope we can have a wonderful year together!
Despite this tragedy, I hope we can
Sincerely,
Professor Lillian Harper
