[center][h2][color=007236]Mathigyle[/color][/h2][/center]

Ah yes, this year just may be different, only a quarter of the hallway dispersed in a hurried pace. We can't have last year happening again, not with the snake venom on his final exam. Well, that was just part of it. Though Mathigyle had to submit to Jeffrey that it was a humorous happening. A huge misunderstanding really. Anyways, one student in particular caught Mathigyle's attention, exclaiming her interest in the powerful mishap of alchemy that occurred. [color=007236]"Oh! You enjoy this?"[/color] He glanced over at the smoking room and took a few shuffles toward Rei while wringing his wrinkled hands, his now-gray robes dragging ash behind him. [color=007236]"Yes, uh hm. Please consider, ah, enrolling in my introductory class: Alchemicals 101, won't you?."[/color] Mathigyle was a sucker for those who wished to learn under him, and those who showed interest in pursuing alchemy. Rei would soon hear word from upper class students about Mathigyle's classes: they are as dangerous as they are entertaining; death is not uncommon. Brew battles, improvised potions, and toxic mixtures were among the events and subjects to occur. Instruction was sometimes convoluted and archaic; Mathigyle was a traditional alchemist who still utilized the textbooks written in the times he walked amongst the living. It was necessary to learn or speak some of this ancient language by the end of his first course, especially if one was to experiment outside of class. Only high intellectuals, the fortuitous, and those covered in horseshoes and four-leaf clovers are able to pass his final course.

With this, Mathigyle turned to face the approaching Mr. Mors, a young man who managed to be cordial and well-spoken all at once, how delightful. [color=007236]"A devil indeed, Mr. Mors. Though sometimes he's more of a newt looking sort, or that one time he was an ostrich, oh how he riles me so!"[/color] Extra emphasis was placed on the word "so" as Mathigyle melodramatically raised a quivering fist to the air, about three inches below his chin was all he could manage. [color=007236]"He has his days, the cranky miscreant. We'll try again tomorrow. Ah, tomorrow is the first day, of course, perhaps the day after. Well no, that is when the razor groot seeds sprout from their containers..."[/color] Mathigyle began to ramble and mumble underneath his breath, listing off what appeared to be hundreds of experiments he was currently working on. One could figure there were several forgotten experiments simply wasting away in the many secret labs Mathigyle had set up about the place. He stopped himself mid-ramble. [color=007236]"Ah, but of course Mr. Mors, what is it you require? How go the preparations for your courses?"[/color]

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