abhoth | ( THE MEDIUM )

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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,

I will be waiting for you at 11:00 PM, in the Lounge. The bartender will allow you inside. Do try to be on time.

- The Innkeeper

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:

Each week, your character will meet with Craftly to select one character from the graveyard to have a private conversation with.
This private conversation will happen ICly on Wednesday. We'll help to coordinate for you and set the post up, so don't worry.
The private conversation won't be censored, but sharing information gained from the graveyard with the living might not be safe. Use caution if sharing your role.
Seeing as how the graveyard is super duper empty on Week 1, there won't be any choice to be made on this week.

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Yes. [Look. All the art. LOOK, YOU GAVE THEM THE BAD ITCH.] Am I really going to talk to people who died? Do you think... I can talk to Mother too?

Yes, and no. I'm afraid I'm only capable of conjuring the souls of those who have passed within this realm. Your mother, young miss, is out of our reach.

Okay. [It's fine. She'll just sit in the corner and wish she could speak to her mom again or something... it's fine...] If I get in trouble for saying what they say... will I get in trouble for drawing it?

[There, there. All Emily has to do is murder a man to get to speak to her mom again? It's fine.]

In accordance with article six, subsection five... "You will be punished for allowing their secrets to spill through your lips." That is very specific, wouldn't you say? [So, maybe.] If your creative muse is inspired the whispers of the dead, then so be it.

[WHAT]

Okay. I told Dave I would ask to make sure. Um. I'm going to put them on the refrigerator in the kitchen. Like you did the other one. Is that okay? I think I need some more of the things that hold them up. Can I have some shaped like sea monsters? Or a ship.

And... if I draw on the walls will I get in trouble? I felt like drawing on them, but didn't want to get in trouble. Dave said it might be "the itch."

Maybe... I can have a notebook instead?

David is quite correct. You see, the malady that has spread through this motel on this week? It takes a different form for each resident. For you, Emily, it would seem it's taken root in your passion for the arts. You were wise to resist such temptation. Cleaning supplies are terribly expensive nowadays.

[He snaps his... tentafingers. Tentafingies? And the bartender slides a list of request along with a card for rating the motel's services, and a monogrammed Innsmouth Motel pen.]

The magnets and notebook will be delivered to your room first thing in the morning, and you may add more of your works to the refrigerator as you please. However, discretion is advised. We wouldn't want some of our less... savory residents suspecting you, would we?

[Um, sweet. Emily writes down what she mentioned previously in bulleted format: "things to hold papers to the refregerater," and "a notebook." Below that she adds, "Maybe some crayons."

She rates the motel's services a 10/10, but in the comments, puts, "Maybe a room of books or an audiograph player," and even though the museum isn't a part of the motel: "The museum is nice."] You mean the people Dave said to be careful of? Okay.

It's supposed to be a secret, right? It'll be a special drawing. Maybe Dave will only know. I'll hide it in with the other drawings. Only people we tell will know what to see. Like a game.

[The bartender takes the card and list back once she's done, placing them back — somewhere? Like a magic trick, it's hard to tell where both go once the faceless man takes them back.

The pen is hers to keep, though. It's blue. Enjoy, Emily.]

Yes, those individuals. While there are some worthy of your trust, Emily, others would use the gift you have been given to their advantage. I'd hardly wish to place such a burden on someone so young, but it is what it is.

[And the bartender refills his glass. If Emily's anywhere below half full, the same will be done for hers.]

Do what you must, but remember... The dearly departed are counting on your actions. As of next week, you may very well be their only link to this realm. You won't be able to reap the rewards your participation in this game may grant you if you are far too dead to enjoy them.

[Wow, no pressure. Not much gloom and doom either.]

"Rewards"? So I get things for talking to dead people? Or... I get things for telling the real people things about the dead people? Um--

Not telling, but drawing.

The former. There is a currency here that is coveted. Should you do an upstanding job with the role you have been given, you may find yourself rewarded handsomely. This would provide you an advantage — one that could be used to turn the tides in your favor during the upcoming weeks.

[Noooo pressure, Emily.]

Of course... Information is also a reward in itself. The dead won't whisper their secrets to just anyone, you see.

[??????????

Pencils? Crayons? PAINTS? These are all good rewards, she thinks, not realizing the currency she gets probably isn't gonna be items at first. It's fine.] Okay. I just have to talk to the ghost people, and... I have to find out what happened. Like a mystery.

If I talk to the people who are ghosts, and we all find out who killed them, we get rewarded? [Sounds simple enough. In theory.] But that can happen all the time. Are we supposed to find everyone?

How do we go home? What if Corvo can't find me. I need to know how to get back just in case, even if I don't want to be Empress and want to be a sailor instead.

Similar, but not quite. Discovering the identity of their killer won't do much good for the living, I'm afraid. You will see in time, once this twisted game truly begins.

[#cryptic]

I would not worry about that. Corvo is right where you left him. Not a second has passed in your world, and once this ordeal has concluded? All those who died will be returned right where they belong. That includes you, as well.

[Oh... What... Emily is (unsure).]

We get to go home? Okay. [She's absolutely all right with this??? Maybe not the killing, but... going home is good. Right? Right...] Um. Was this a game you made? Did you bring us so we will play your game?

[Going home is very good. :)]

Though it may surprise you, this game is not of my own design. I, too, am bound by rules I must follow. Those rules place me in the role of a facilitator, and nothing else. The one who brought you here to play in this "game" is elsewhere, watching our every move.

[And then, in a stage whisper—]

I would advice prudence if speaking of them, young Emily. They're quite fickle in nature!

[(unsure)(unsure)(unsure)(unsure)(unsure)]

Oh. Okay. Like the man with black eyes? He gets mad if you try to talk about the places they take the whales, the slaughterhouses. And he gets mad about the Overseers, too. They say he's not very nice and he's bad, so he gets upset.

Maybe I can draw them a picture and put it on the refrigerator. Do you know what they look like?

Yes, perhaps. But this brand of fickleness — it sparks from a much crueler nature. They delight in the suffering of men, regardless of whether they are wicked or not.

But if you truly desire to draw them a picture? Let the sun be your inspiration, young miss. That is all I can say on that matter.

[Welp. The (unsure)s really were necessary.] Oh. They're like a not nice Emperor. [yikes]

The sun? Okay. I'll put the picture on the refrigerator. Are they nice to you? Do you like them? If you do a good job, do they give you things?

I'm afraid they and I are not on friendly terms, no. But I was given a choice. And now, it is my duty to serve them.

[A beat, and he takes a long sip from his drink.]

... It is my sincerest wish that you are not offered the same choice, miss.

[Depending on what Crafty thinks of Emily, it may or may not be surprising that she frowns. Almost like she feels bad for him.] That means I would have to do what you do?

[She's quiet for a short time, thinking.] Someone is going to die and turn into a ghost. And then we have to find out who did it, and then we have to kill them as punishment. But... we won't know until we punish them first. [DAT'S FUCKED UP.] Except if someone with a special role can tell.

But what if everyone "votes" for you instead? Does that mean you will be gone and someone else will have to do what you do?

[Please don't feel bad for Cthulhu's butler, Emily.]

If everyone casts their vote against me on that day, then no one will replace me. I will be gone, and I will be unable to continue providing aid to you during your stay at the Innsmouth Motel. Similarly, I will be unable to set the stage so you may speak to the dead, Emily.

My death will not put a stop to the events that will soon take place. Believe I am telling you the truth when I say it will only make this ordeal more difficult for you.

[SHE FEELS BAD, THO. HE PUT HER DRAWING ON THE FRIDGE!!! IT WAS NICE.]

Okay. I'll make sure no one votes for you. Then you won't have to go away.

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( THE MEDIUM )

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