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The Rillaboom doesn't stop playing, but he adresses you all...
"Stop."
"Disgusting, forced, manufactured, amateur! You all are an affront to the the flow of this land!" He taps his drum, and wooden pikes jab at Castform, Sable, and Citrine. It doesn't hurt them, but Citrine loses another 1/16th of his health to poison.
"Those native to this forest move as artfully as breathing, but even the best of you cannot consistently keep a rhythm! Interlopers! Intruders! Go back to the city where you belong! it's more your speed." He points at you all with a drumstick. "We are Groove of the NHC, and we sing as guardians of the forest when we say: 'Get Out!'
The Kricketune mutters, "I kinda liked the pink one and the beetle's..."