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( THE MEDIUM )
![]() Each Tuesday morning, you will wake up with a note in your hand. The handwriting is a little on the messy side, to the point where one might wonder if it was written in the middle of an earthquake, but it remains legible. It reads: Dear Medium, Should you do as the note says and swing by the Lounge at the time specified, you will find Craftly sitting by the bar. A glass of something undoubtedly expensive is held up by one tendril, and he takes a sip as you enter the room. Next to him sits another glass, untouched and clearly meant for your consumption. It's non-alcoholic — probably. You might just have to take a sip to find out. Once you've come closer, he will give you a grim smile and say: "Come take a seat, Medium." Welcome, Medium! To summarize the key aspects of what this role entails:
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Oh. [Well, that's weird. Your wiggly hands are, like, permanent.] That's okay. No one else could tell I was turning into a rat. I thought maybe it was a trick. But that means yours isn't a trick.
Have you tried writing on the cards to ask for your hands back?