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There is wax in the ears of both you and your crew. The only sound you can hear is the thumping of your own enthralled heartbeat.

The ship slows considerably as the crew stops rowing.

The closest sailors are filled with desire and rush towards the damsels. The sirens place their mouths on the necks of the enthralled. The quintet consumes your crew, carefully controlling the streams of blood to ensure nothing dilutes the wonderful odor emanating from their armpits. Your sailors fall to the ground with smiles on their faces.

Captivated, you rush toward the sirens. As you approach, the smell grows stronger, and you grow faster.

Due to the siren’s scent, you are incapable of making choices. You approach the nearest siren.

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