[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/0Iv8dWe.png[/img][/center]
[center][@Emuxe][@Jeyma][/center]
	His head now buried in his forearms, relaxed on his desk. The entirety of each day for Kaezira is spent reading, studying, learning, teaching, demonstrating, answering the most outlandish questions his apprentices have for him. Its hard being most knowledgeable. So many people want so many things from you, as if you're able to funnel information out to anyone, constantly. A nice, cold drink is much reward for the brain straining work of arch-mage of the Nephilim. The Silver Swan, oh, how lovely it is. The sweet music, the rich drinks. That's where he needs to be.
	The travels to Wellborough are short for Kaezira. He rides his horse subconsciously, while his mind is lost in thought of magic and his studies. But relaxation is what's on his mind right now. Approaching the arcane walls of Wellborough, a commotion can be seen near the entrance. High pitched screeching wasn't the relaxing music Kaezira had in mind. His cold breath could be felt by the crowd as he drew near. They began whispering amongst themselves, one angry woman openly descriminating against him. [b]"If it isn't the arch-mage of the Neph'lim. 'ere to save our day again are you?"[/b] Kaezira simply ignored her, and carried on. Many people were not fond the Nephilim, and he often received redundant hate in public. He saw a young girl holding an unnatural creature in her arms in the middle of the crowd, it seems to be dying. Ah, a [i]Fleshspinner[/i], fantastic. Of all the types of magic Kaezira desired to learn, fleshspinning was most definitely not one of them. Altering your body in such a horrid way was not appealing, how could anyone desire such an ugly transformation for themselves. 
	[color=skyblue]"Don't worry yourself over its poor existence, young one. If it dies, it dies. If it lives, it will be taken care of later. I have not much care for those monstrosities who call themselves mages."[/color]