[i]Golden lions...purple...perhaps some sort of empire had made its ground here. The Man merely nodded back due to politeness, not saying anything due to his parched throat. The scepter tapped on the ground with every other step as he used it to keep himself straight up. His cloak billowed in the mountainous winds, using his free hand to keep the hood on. The wind had blown the smell to his direction, a bonfire perhaps? It was bizarrely nostalgic watching the vehicles and mere foot soldiers of a time before the automobile was even made work together in harmony. He was reminded of his home, before he awoke here. Tightening his grip on the staff he made his way over to the plume of smoke rising, perhaps he could find someone to talk to.[/i]