A knot of wild shrubbery closes off a plain stone alcove big enough for your team and...surprisingly tall. In fact, several feet above all your heads, a small stormcloud hovers, grumbling with faint thunder.
The following curses now swirl beneath the stormcloud above you:
"Your cups will always have a hole in them." "May you trip on every fifth step you take." "May people always mistake you for the wrong gender." "May others only hear monkey noises when you talk." "You can't walk without a foot of space between your legs so you waddle."
Above your heads, the stormcloud, still grumbling, breaks up into multiple little clouds, which drop to hover over each of your heads, curses still swirling beneath them. Every now and then, a drizzle of rain falls from the clouds on top of you. But at least the overgrowth blocking the way out of the alcove pulls away. You can go to endgame, cursed and clouded.
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RESULTS
"Your cups will always have a hole in them."
"May you trip on every fifth step you take."
"May people always mistake you for the wrong gender."
"May others only hear monkey noises when you talk."
"You can't walk without a foot of space between your legs so you waddle."
Above your heads, the stormcloud, still grumbling, breaks up into multiple little clouds, which drop to hover over each of your heads, curses still swirling beneath them. Every now and then, a drizzle of rain falls from the clouds on top of you. But at least the overgrowth blocking the way out of the alcove pulls away. You can go to endgame, cursed and clouded.