Level 15 - Grand Lord King Master of Wordsmithy
From that silent place fear flows in unseen waves, like white fog. The shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. Through it's frowning walls and dark window openings there's a lantern of the spirit which none see by but those who bear it.
A small piece about roleplaying seen trough philosophical glasses. Might inspire something in your way of GMing or might remind you of something you allready knew.
A mercenary for hire. If you can handle the foul stench of dead dog, sweat and grease.