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.
"May you become Dark Mou-- that is, may you feel compelled to constantly hit on anyone in sight with the cheesiest pick-up lines possible, all while pelvic thrusting." to Alectryon.
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