"Oh, it's far from abandoned." a strikingly wise voice calls out from behind you. You turn to see an elderly man, leaning on a wooden walking stick, standing upon the sandy shore of the beautiful river, watching you with warm eyes and a polite smile. He has lengthy grayish-white beard that hangs down to his belly. "I and a lot of other folks like me tend to live here, and out of the polluted Centras. Here, the air is clear and fresh, and it is lush and colorful, instead of metallic and monotone. Do you like it here son?"