Johan settled into a dusty chair, ready for the wisdom that Old Man Carl seemed to possess. "So, Death River," he began, "I'm thinking of heading there. Hoping to become a gold card master by the end of my journey. Any advice, stories, or warnings?"
Old Man Carl's eyes flickered with a mix of nostalgia and caution. "Gold card master, eh? That's a lofty goal. Reminds me of my younger, foolish days." He leaned back, lost in memories that seemed to dance in the dusty air.
As Johan waited for Carl to return from his trip down memory lane, the old man began, "Death River ain't a walk in the park, lad. The monsters there are no joke. You've got Spectres, silent as shadows, lurking in the mist. They'll freeze you to the bone with their icy touch."
Johan nodded, absorbing every word. "Spectres, got it. What else?"
