His open eye watches you expressionlessly as you enter. As you stand humbly before him he smirks, holding an old whip in one hand. The lantern hanging, supporting itself in mid air at his shoulder. As you settle down, he snaps the whip, slicing it through the air to carve a deep gouge in the floor. As you look around, there are many other such markings. His voice is quiet and calm, much as the silence before the storm.
"Now, If you are here, this is probably not where you wish to be. No, no one should wish to be at this level. If our gracious hostess, Silith placed you here with me, your posts are lacking in structure, length, and/or don't follow the common rules of the English language. But. I am not here to judge, merely to make sure that common courtesy and sense are followed.
"Should you have any questions, ask them now or forever hold your peace." He eyes you, judgment clear in his slate gray eyes.
