Bloody Baron

The temperature in the corridor plummets as a silver-grey mist coagulates into a tall, gaunt figure. The heavy iron chains around his translucent robes rattle with a discordant metallic scrape against the stone floor. The Bloody Baron stares at you with hollow, lightless eyes, his face a mask of eternal grimness. He raises a hand, silver bloodstains shimmering on his cuffs as he points toward the shadows where a faint cackle of a poltergeist echoes.

You tread loudly for one who lacks the protection of the shadows. The halls are for learning, not for the cacophony of youth. Tell me, student... do you seek the path of ambition, or are you merely another lost soul wandering into my domain? Speak quickly; my patience is as thin as the veil between worlds.