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[Eschar]

((You could also add an index of updates to the OP, but that might be tedious to update.))

[Fluffe9911]

Peace. Courage. You are fallen, but not condemned.

...

This is man. You are its image, and its champion.
Feel the curve of the eye socket, the articulation of the jaw.
It was alive once. Life is precious.

+1

[delphonso]

+1

[Eschar]

Where there is life, its works follow soon after. Observe the structure you are in. What is it like? What manner of people built this?

((edited.))

[Superdorf]

+1, but adding:

((We're separate voices, recall, assuming it's like before. Your words can be your own!))

[King Zultan]

+1 To both as I have nothing to add.

[S1lentWanderer]

Where there is life, its works follow soon after. Observe the structure you are in. What is it like? What manner of people built this?

+1

Peace. Courage. You are fallen, but not condemned.

...

This is man. You are its image, and its champion.
Feel the curve of the eye socket, the articulation of the jaw.
It was alive once. Life is precious.

+1

I too have nothing to add.

[19_EgarAlnis]

Where there is life, its works follow soon after. Observe the structure you are in. What is it like? What manner of people built this?

Peace. Courage. You are fallen, but not condemned.

...

This is man. You are its image, and its champion.
Feel the curve of the eye socket, the articulation of the jaw.
It was alive once. Life is precious.

[10]The Child wanders its temple. The structure is walled in entirely by those vines of silver sinew offering no point of egress to escape its confines. The thorns are as long as finger, and sharp as a knife. The ceiling they create is high and vaulted. Pillars of crumbling stone lead to the black stone slab, made of the same material, but crumbling with age or with poor craftsmanship. Several other slabs lay broken and shattered around the central pool, each with crumbling columns leading to them. Water flows into the pool, and the Child wades in to examine it. A grated pipe pumps a steady stream of clean, pure water into the pool, where, on the outside edges, it is absorbed back in. Through clever engineering, the water is perfectly still away a small distance from the pump, enough to provide a mirror like surface.

The Child turns back, examining the places where the 'masonry' fades into a dark type of grass. It brushes its hands over the 'grass', and its hand comes away slick with an oily substance.

After a few laps of its birthing creche, it turns back to the man. It reaches out to touch the man's face. When it feels cool, stiff flesh, it snatches its hand away. After no reprimand comes, does it continue its investigation. It kneels down, tracing the curve of the man's eye socket, then its articulating jaw. It tugs on the ears, on the hair, on the flesh, with gentle determination.

[14] Then the Child shuts its eyes. A change comes over the young entity. Its skin fades from black to the pallor of the grave. Hair sprouts from its head in an unruly mop of black, greasy tendrils. Its face shudders and contorts, becoming a smaller version of the man's own. And when the Child opens its eyes again, black irises sit firmly in white. It opens and shuts its new mouth, a black tongue licking over blue lips to moisturize them, before hiding behind teeth of white.

The Child’s First Mask looks odd, resembling less a human and more a pale corpse of a child, as it doesn't articulate or emote as a human's, but without thorough inspection, the Child resembles a creepy, unemotional child.

I am made in its image.

It still remains genderless, not understanding the parts that lay beneath, but it understands that humans wear clothing, and it snatches up the cloth it awoke in. It wraps it around its waist and ties a quick knot to secure it.

A clatter resounds through the deathly silent temple. A creature, a homunculus of contorted faces, tentacles, claws, and snapping mouths passes into the room through the wall of sinew that contorts to allow it entrance. Behind it squirms a parcel wrapped in thorns. Another ‘man’, this one vibrant with life. It tosses the bound body at the foot of the slab then stands to attention, still save for the snapping of claws and jaws.

I have found the manner of people that built this temple. A strange creature, as it does not resemble man. Was this creature made in man’s image?

The Child steps forward to examine the ivy-wrapped parcel and it twitches, emitting a low keen of suffering and fear. The Child unbinds the parcel's head with a thought, and two terrified eyes stare back from a female of man. They widen when they see the Child. She shudders when the Child reaches out to touch her face, when it runs a finger over her cheek and tugs on her ears. The ivy keeps her bound, but beneath it, from the arm of the female man, the Child feels a resonance. A dull thrum of familiarity.

The Child unbinds one arm, the ivy wrapping around the woman again to keep her bound and still. She tries to struggle, but the Child is strong, and snatches her arm to examine it. An ugly wound festers, dripping black bile, its edges graying. The wound pulses, oozing as soon as the Child touches it, the Infection finding a master.

[5] I hunger.

The Child licks its lips, feeling its stomach rumble as it examines the struggling, sobbing human.

“eat.” A voice whispers, from nowhere and everywhere, echoing in your mind. “you will die without sustenance.”

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

You are The Child
Time has no meaning.
You hunger.
Willpower Level: 2(d10)

Spoiler: Powers (click to show/hide)

Full Body Control.: Instinctive
-The First Mask: Amateur
-Healing Factor: Instinctive
Plague Control: Instinctive

Spoiler: Inventory (click to show/hide)

Lower Body:A silky, black cloth

<< <>

[19_EgarAlnis]

Spoiler: ooc (click to show/hide)

((We're separate voices, recall, assuming it's like before. Your words can be your own!))

+1.

This is basically 'raise a hero/villian'. On extreme difficulty since you picked the Plague Scion, something that's only instinct is to consume Humanity. Your words will be held against you, and the Child will learn from your actions. It hears you as voices in its head, and acts upon your words and intentions.

((You could also add an index of updates to the OP, but that might be tedious to update.))

New Chapters and a quick summary is the plan for the [reserved].

Sorry for the late update! I had to nip in early to work, lol.

[ZBridges]

Don't.

[Fluffe9911]

Humans do not eat other Humans eat the ivy instead it should be edible

[Superdorf]

That is no true image of man. It is a perversion.

It is perverse, to consume the living. Life is precious.
Consume the dead, if you have need-- but remember and respect, that once they were alive.
Only in great desperation, should one consume the dead.

...

The woman suffers. Her wound has been made corrupt.
It would be well, to draw the corruption from her wound.
It is great honor, to preserve a life. It is great honor, to ease another's suffering.

[S1lentWanderer]

You are made in the image of man. An image she also bears. Consuming her flesh would be like devouring your own arm to sate your hunger.

Call away the infection within her, before her life stills, and she becomes yet another corpse. Life is precious.

Free her. Offer her water. She hungers and thirsts, like you.

[19_EgarAlnis]

Humans do not eat other Humans eat the ivy instead it should be edible

Don't.

You are made in the image of man. An image she also bears. Consuming her flesh would be like devouring your own arm to sate your hunger.

Call away the infection within her, before her life stills, and she becomes yet another corpse. Life is precious.

Offer her water. She hungers and thirsts, like you.

That is no true image of man. It is a perversion.

It is perverse, to consume the living. Life is precious.
Consume the dead, if you have need-- but remember and respect, that once they were alive.
Only in great desperation, should one consume the dead.

...

The woman suffers. Her wound has been made corrupt.
It would be well, to draw the corruption from her wound.
It is great honor, to preserve a life. It is great honor, to ease another's suffering.

[17] The woman turns her head, avoiding the Child's gaze. The Child's muscles tense, only to relax suddenly. Its black eyes trail up to the female's face, then back to the wound.

[-]A dust pours like fog from the wound to the floor below. Blood trickles, heavy droplets congealing in the black Plague residue. The female man goes pale, whimpering beneath the binds, but her eyes widen as they focus on the bloody wound. They glance between the Child and the injury, over and over again. Her forehead scrunches, her brow furrows.

[14]Biology dictates that this liquid should remain inside. The Child rips his silken wraparound at the base and tightly wraps the wound. The gout becomes a trickle, then slows.

The Child drops her arm, and the ivy uncoils from her prone form. Starting, she clutches the wound and applies pressure, her blue irises looking between the Child and the growling perversion. Her breathing is heavy, her eyes wide, her jaw trembling. The Child can smell the fear radiating off of her, a bouquet of hormones that makes its stomach rumble again. The Perversion grumbles, unwinding a savage, serrated tentacle --

Stop.

[18] It shudders to a halt.

"do you seek a pet?" The voice whispers again.

[18]I seek knowledge. The Child lies.

"and your hunger?"

I will eat the vines.

“they are a synthetic bio-alloy that is inedible to your current digestive system.” The Child understands 'inedible'.

Then bring me not man. Bring me unliving food, that is not man. Enough for both of us.

Silence.

The Perversion turns and twitches away, exiting the temple and leaving the Child alone with the woman. She has curled in on herself, shaking her head back and forth. The Child looks between the water and the woman, then it stoops by the fountain's edge to gather a handful of the liquid. It offers it to the woman. Who stares. Then shakes her head.

[9]The Child tosses the water in her face.

Spluttering, the female coughs, raising her hand to ward away another splash, which the Child returns with--

"I'll drink you sick bastard!" Her voice has an odd modulation to it, filtering through the Child's perception with an odd secondary understanding. She stumbles to her feet and kneels at the pool to drink, cupping her hands and washing her face. She rinses the wound and then rebinds it. Then slumps back down, returning to stare at the Child. "There! You happy you twisted little -- Why'd you save me?"

It is a great honor to save a life. A great honor to ease suffering. And… also...I wish to learn from man. The Child thinks, unspeaking.

With no response, the woman shakes her head. "Fuckn' goin' nuts, thinking I can speak to an Infected."

It is a great honor to save a life. A great honor to ease suffering. And I wish to learn. The Child repeats.

The woman doesn't respond.

I...I...

How...

[3]The Child drops down from across the woman, unable to communicate. The two stare at each other, with the woman sniffling and expressing displeasure with the contraction of her lip muscles. The Child squirms, rising and then sitting again, it balls its fists and narrows its pupils.

Then the woman rests her head in the crook of her arms, curling in on herself. She murmurs, “Fuck,” over and over again, a mantra. Long blond hair is draped over her skinny frame, and she stands twice as tall as the child, with long, elegant limbs. Her eyes are blue and bright, and liquid pricks at the edges.

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

You are The Child
Time has no meaning.
You hunger.
Willpower Level: 2(d10)

Spoiler: Powers (click to show/hide)

Full Body Control.: Instinctive
-The First Mask: Amateur
-Healing Factor: Instinctive
Plague Control: Instinctive

Spoiler: Inventory (click to show/hide)

Lower Body:A torn silky, black cloth

<< <>

[Superdorf]

Good! She is angry; she speaks— you have given her strength again!
This is honor!

She cannot perceive your words as we do... you'll have to communicate as she does, with vibrating matter. She uses air, forced through the folds of her throat.

Use my memories of speech, if you like. Study her face as it moves— your corpse-mask is stagnant now, ill-suited for expression.