The Lyceum ~ Ancient Center of Knowledge

Looking over the top of his spectacles, Academician Rolf Von Schmelling crossly glances up from behind his cluttered desk, which is surrounded by shelves of ancient and moldering leather tomes in the center of the Lyceum.

Sunlight dapples the marble floor and hazily illuminates the brittle bones of an old skeleton propped up in the back of the dimly lit chamber.

His jaw dappled with just a touch of gray stubble, Von Schmelling squints, sizing you up, the dark red scar on his left cheek standing out starkly against his pasty white skin. He is small for a daun, yet his presence is commanding. Gruffly he nods, and in a terse and somewhat weary voice barks out, "Back there," gesturing toward a rear cabinet and a small device resting on an overcrowded shelf.

The sleeve of his robe stirs the dust motes, which reflect a sunbeam and flutter up in glittering profusion like particles of pure magical essence.