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A lone mouse skitters through the shadows of the abandoned clocktower, its tiny claws clicking against rusted gears. Glowing amber eyes, sharp as shattered glass, scan the gloom for threats—or treasure. Its fur is ragged, patched with grease and dust, a living tapestry of survival. Whispers cling to it like cobwebs; some say it gnaws on cursed cogs to sustain its unnatural longevity, others claim it’s a spy for the Clockwork King, slipping through cracks to steal secrets. Every twitch of its whiskers maps the unseen—shifts in air currents, vibrations of hidden traps, the faint hum of dormant automatons. It thrives where others perish, a flicker of feral cunning in a labyrinth of grinding pistons and decaying grandeur. To spot it is rare; to catch it, folly. The mouse is both omen and ally, depending on whose hourglass runs low.
description
Step right up, space sharpshooters! Your mission: blast those rogue porkers invading the cosmic firing range. Lock onto troublemaking hogs, but keep your crosshairs off our feathered allies—Angry Birds are friendly forces, not targets. Listen up: Grandpa Pig’s strictly off-limits. One wrong shot at that old-timer, and your blaster gets benched. Lock, load, and show no mercy to anything oinking…except the bird brigade and the one pig who’s earned retirement. Fire when ready!
