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Morning Cloud
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The crowd parts before them as the three mice make their way towards the center ring. From somewhere a deep, frantic drumbeat starts playing, overlapped with the singing of string instruments.
“YEAH! COME ON! YEAH!”
“MAKE WAY! OUR BATTLE AWAITS!”
“YOU DARE STAND BEFORE DION?!”
Working the crowd, they strut and vogue for the howling fey, making sure all eyes remain on them.
The ring rises before them: a bouncy drum-head made of feycloth stretched over a wooden framework. Glowing obelisks extend out from the four corners, emitting some kind pale, white beams that encircle the ring.
Gabe tugs on one beam experimentally, finding it extremely springy. He pulls back on it, and flings himself up into the ring before dangling from the beam dramatically. His backing music rises to a fever pitch as he cranes backwards, his body drawn into an ecstatic arch
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