[u]Uicle[/u]

Grumbling curses(most of the directed at Aarem), Uicle picked himself out of the splinters that had been a chair only moments before, selecting students to follow him on his own tour. As he began to lead the group out, Greg trotting beside him, he introduced himself. "I'm Uicle, teacher of Necromancy in the College. You'll notice three things about me, early on. One: I'm always carrying this staff." He held up his staff to emphasize his point. "Two, I have the worst luck in the history of Tien. Three, I wear my armor all the time. Don't ask about the first and get used to the second, and we'll get along fine. As for the third, I assure you it's not by personal choice, and the less you know the better." Which was an understatement, really. Aarem might decide to make a curious individual's life miserable. Maybe not as long as he had Uicle's, but long enough that Uicle would know it wasn't casual bad luck, and know that he caused it. Which was irritating, to say the least. Greg gave an impatient sounding metallic bark, drawing Uicle's attention to him. Chuckling, he added, "And this is Greg, who is with me most of the time, when he's not causing mischief for the rest of the College." Greg looked unabashed by the accusation. In fact, some might say he was proud. 

"Well, follow me then. First stop is the Forge. A piece of advice, don't touch anything unless Tyrael, the Demonomancy teacher, says you can." On the way to the Forge, Uicle's words about his luck proved true. A small piece of the walls came loose, hitting him on the shoulder. When he tried to open the door to the forge, the handle came straight off, and as soon as he walked in, a hammer flew from a smith's hand and struck him in the face. To the students, Uicle said, "I did warn you about my luck." He continued cursing Aarem mentally, and waited with weary resignation for the next mishap.