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You enter the Ratmeat Diner. Two dour-looking men are waiting in line for what looks like a tray of clumped-together gray oatmeal. The server wields a ladle full of the monochromatic sludge, plopping it onto each plate that comes past.
You decide you'd rather have a rat skewer. You were a vegetarian before you came to the island, but that changed as soon as you saw what the vegetarian options were here.
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Enter the Diner Anchor
As you pick up the charred bits of meat on a stick, you glance around the diner for a seat. You see a crudely-fashioned booth, its only occupant an unassuming-looking middle-aged man. It looks like a safer spot than the booth behind it with the two Gullseyes.
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