By Robert Baker
She stood on the pinnacle gazing at the masses in the valley below, the wind blowing her short hair gently across her un-furrowed brow. As she assessed the scene below, she moved her hand to the sword sheath that carried her sword, a mighty ball point pen. Her shield, the words she would pen, matched the chain mail and leather outfit of a worthy warrior. Turning swiftly, she moved purposefully as she approached her desk with fervor, as she continued her quest for life and truth.