A vertical path of steps, where each level climbs like a ladder, but without rungs. It carries you up and down, a zigzag dance inside buildings, yet not an elevator.

A dancer on the wind, slender as a pencil, breaks underfoot yet whispers secrets of the forest.

When a lumberjack gets fired, he loses this, whereas others actually get it.

In the closet's quiet nook, treasures hide where no one looks. Holds the tales of soles and laces, a keeper of journeys and worn-out places.

We are dealt the hand that life provides. My life can be seen as a paradox. I am at the whim of what the player decides. Though I am the most royal male in this box. But I am not the only one. Of fifty-two, four exist. Our skirmishes are for your fun. Face me if you dare. Do you know who this is?