University of France, France 1051
Greetings fellow students of Academia. I would like to take this opportunity to introduceth mine self. My name is Edmund Wellington the third and I will be your resident assistant for this year, your first year at university and the first year of university, ever.
As there art no precedents, this year shalleth be a learning experience for us all. Let us learn together. Thou art all responsible and mature. I'm not going to impose any rules. I trusteth that I need not tell you to behave like adults. I shall make mine presence one of a dear friend. Mine door is never barred.
It is with great regret and sorrow that I must inform you that our fellow student and dear friend Archibald Leoneses has passed away only one day into the semestereth. He was full of mead and attempted to catapult himself into the ladies dormitorium. He landed in a pile of thickets no further than the servants' quarters. He died at the infirmatorium this morning after his blood became so sour it could not be cured with leeches. Even if you did not know him by name, I'm sure you were all familiar with the delightful Spaniard boy.
There will be a memorial service this evening where we shall all drink from the cask in his honor.
Now, it is quite clear that catapults are no things to be trifled with after a long night at the tavern. Alcohol and contraptions simply do not mix. It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you all that catapults are now explicitly off-limits to UFF students. Spaniards have also been banned.
The Following Morrow
Fellow students fate truly is a fickle mistress. It is with great pain that I tell you that death has claimed another of our brethren. Squire Buckingham, the cherub-faced knight-major who came to us from our sister university in Wales, had gotten quite jolly on the ale at Archibald's memorial and went off to be jolly with the local peasants. He lanced several of their livestock and set fire to the blacksmith before laying down to rest under a willow tree. It was all in good fun. An angry mob hung him from that very willow before the morrow came to pass.
I ask for your forgiveness in advanced, for I simply cannot live through another such tragedy. I must impose more rules on you, my fellow students. From this day forth, peasants are barred from the campus grounds. It is clear their intellects are not equipped to handle a young scholar drunk on the ale. The Welsh have also been barred.
There will be several casks of ale passed forth throughout the dorm tonight in Squire Buckingham's honor. I expect you all to drink deep in remembrance.
One More Morrow Henceforth
Another day of grieving befalls our beloved university. Last night three students and a visiting Greek diplomat fell victim to water drownings after hitting the tavern, hard. Their bellies were quite full of mead and it should have been a joyous time. In their celebration they decided to strip to the likes of Adam in Eden and dive from the bridge into the shallow stream across the West-South-Western portion of campus. The water was no more than a meter deep and each man perished.
For your protection, we've demolished ye olde bridge. We've also taken great lengths to insure that the Greek never set foot on our scholarly soil again.
There will be a school holiday tomorrow for mourning. I'll see you all at the tavern.
Several Morrows Later
My brethren I've made a grave mistake. We've lost no less than 10 pupils a day over the last fortnight in various late-night steed and broadsword-related accidents. It seems that when a young man enters the tavern he rarely comes home alive. The tavern should be a place of mirth and merriment, not sorrow. The problem is clear. The god forsaken Italian students have brought with them the black plague.
Those filthy Italians are from this day banned.