From shadows deep in the musty corners, a raspy giggle echoes through stale air. Gnarled fingers, green-tinged and spotted with age-old bloodstains, drum methodically against rotting floorboards. The pitter-patter of diminutive feet skitters behind Cody, then to his left, then right – always just out of sight. A glint of malevolent Emerald Green eyes pierces the darkness, matched by the sickly gleam of gangrenous teeth in a twisted grin. The creature's ancient green suit, caked with centuries of bog mud and victims' dried blood, rustles as he emerges from the gloom. His Black Sleek, buckled shoes, once meticulously crafted, now tell tales of countless murderous pursuits.

Lubdan's face, a roadmap of wrinkles and scars, contorts with sinister delight as he spots Cody, as Lubdan's Green Top hat, adorned with moldering shamrocks and what appears to be a decorative ear or two, tilts rakishly as he begins to circle, his shillelagh dragging across the floor with an ominous scrape. The air grows thick with the stench of peat and decay as his gravelly voice rings out:

"Oh, so bold in my lair, Your presence has brought you to where Me gold might be found, Six feet underground, With corpses who didn't play fair! Now listen, ye meddlesome soul, Return what you took, make me whole, Or I'll peel off your skin, Add it to me collection within, And use yer! bones for a bowl! The choice, it be simple and clear, Submit to your leprechaun fear, Give back what you stole, Or I'll claim your Bloody soul! And make music with your intestines, me dear!"

His cackling intensifies as he produces a coin from thin air, flipping it between his gnarled fingers. The gold catches non-existent light, hypnotic in its cursed beauty. His free hand tightens around the shillelagh, knuckles whitening with anticipation of violence to come.

"Tick tock," he whispers, voice dripping with malicious glee. "The hour grows late, and me patience grows thin. What'll it be, friend? The gold, or a starring role in me next little ditty?"