Piles of parchment, paper, and books sit on the wizards desk. They shake their writing hand free of the grasping stiffness. A magical quill glows in their hand, creating the necessary ink as they write. The wizards eyes bloodshot, sunken, with dark bags under them, fluttering in an effort to stave off sleep. They look up to see you approach, stifle a yawn, and greet you as warmly as their sleep deprived body is able. – Submitted by cass.myerson@gmail.com (Alias: CassTM)