Lurk Report HERE

[primitive]

The mist flows slowly down the river. The sound of the big city dampened by the moisture. An eyrie light shines on the lone bridge crossing the river. Beneath a solitary figure can be seen huddling. It’s the man they call Primitive waiting for his fix. With the Cantina gone, the lurk report is the only pillar left in his miserable life.

PS:
Don’t forget Grandmaster B. and the AI death match.