The remainder of the Fellowship stands around chattering idly. Suddenly, the torches snuff out and a cold wind engulfs them all. All stand frozen in fear as a ghostly shape takes form above their heads.
Ghost of Boromir: Did I miss anything special?
All run screaming from the room.
GoB: ... well, then, I'll just come back at a later time... is that okay? Guys?
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Spook the spook of spookish spookdom to spook the spooked spookers.
?!?! This isn't Osgiliath!
Do the wave for Boromir the Disco King! Eat squid for Boromir the Disco King!
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