In towers of Babel's old tale, I thrive, a bridge where cultures and minds contrive. A symphony of sounds and signs, where meanings dance in rhythmic lines.

I can run, but never walk. I have a mouth, but never talk. I have a bed, but never sleep. What am I?

From my mind has poured a clown. One of many adventures to be found. A dog, a car, a hotel too, my characters are scared and so are you. All roads make the answer clear. It can be no one but the monarch of fear.

I make your face look like the moon, change my third letter and I am famously unreliable.

Eyes like a serpent, bones cold and white, or not. I have many faces but no two are the same.