[Location] Facultie Mechanica

[Fish Stick]

The Facultie Mechanica, in contrast to its scientific and arcanic counterparts, was quite small and low-budget. In fact, it consisted of a single small office to the West of the Entrance Hall. The Facultie had only barely gained admittance and recognition as a proper department, as the few classes it offered had a dimunuitive number of pupils. The office itself could easily have been mistaken for any regular classroom in the corridor, save for a discreet carving on the door of a cog and a pair of pliers and an unpolished brass plaque that had several unreadable letters covered in grime and mould. It read:

Wel...ome to the F...ultie Mechanica!

Courses offere...
-Gadgeteering
-Locksmithing

Pric... List
-B...sic: 150 cr...wns per ...lass
-In...er...ediate: 250 crowns per class
-...dva...ced: 350 crown... per class
-Expe...t: 450 crow...s per cla...s
-Mast...r: 600 ...rowns per c...ass

Does not in...lude ro...m and board. Inquire a... the Fac...lt...e Arca...a if in need.

Inside the door was a tiny room filled mostly with stacks of paper and boxes. It was only a mere twenty feet square - more like a bedroom than a proper Faculty. Littering the floor were shreds of parchment with titles such as Budget cuts and Investment possibilities and non-profit areas. This Faculty, unlike the others, seemed to revolve less around teaching the Mechanica for which it was named after and more about actually staying alive and scraping a profit from the dregs of the proverbial barrel. Not a single tool was to be seen.

Some of the boxes were filled with books, others with scraps of old bank statements, but none were in any form of order or organization. On the areas of wall that were not covered over in anything irregular there could be seen vast areas of dust, grim and general uncleanliness. There was not even a proper secretary, just a shabbily-dressed old man - the Head - sketching at a small desk with his tongue between his teeth. His name was Marckus Ulrich, and he was nervous, slightly built human of around forty or fifty eras. One of his eyes was in a state of perpetual twitching, and he regarded the alpine layers of reports and funding statements with something resembling absolute primal terror. He was a kind-hearted old fellow who really didn't deserve to be assigned the bookkeeping duties of such a backward department, but he had said thet he'd take any job they could offer him. After all, Marckus was good with numbers, and had often had to pull a few creative ideas to sustain the Facultie. He knew nothing of Mechanica, but he that didn't matter because no-one really cared about the Facultie Mechanica anyway.

He looked up with a start, as though he had not even noticed anyone entering his domain. "Oh! Umm, yes, serale, how may I help you?" he stuttered in a squeaky, high-pitched voice, his eyes once again lingering to the latest memorandum which demanded he give a report on the era's profits. He looked absolutely horrified at the idea.

Description by GM Tatercake, edited slightly by Tisiphone

OOC: Closed until Quest to open it is completed.