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[King Zultan]

Basil sounds like a good temporary or permanent name.

[Eschar]

I agree. Your thoughts on "Basil", Child?

[BlackPaladin99]

basil sounds fine

[Fluffe9911]

I also like Basil

[chaotic skies]

Scratch what I said, Basil is cooler

[19_EgarAlnis]

"A fitting name for this one, Sloan. A name steeped in long-forgotten history, that speaks of a fighter's spirit. She could perhaps be a useful ally."

"As for you...Names and genders are for the maskless, who must remain contained within one existence. You are masked, and can change as you please, altogether different, though neither better nor worse.

For now...a name...As you are a child, the term for you would be Bairn, were you where her name originated. It will suit well enough for now."

Also ask the woman how she came to be in this place. She was taken from somewhere, I assume. She's quite composed for a human shoved into a nest of Plague - a brave spirit.

+1

Patience, child. One day you will find a name that suits you well enough to wear forever, regardless of the mask you wear. Until then, if you are willing, I too will call you Basil, little king.

It would be wise to dispose of the pile of corpses in your temple-prison. Their presence will make your guest uncomfortable, and their decay will bring further corruption to this place. Bury them, if you can.

...Basil...

Basil. The Child echoes the voices in his head. “I…am Basil.”

"Its nice to meet you, Basil." Sloan dips her head in a nod, starting to wander around the Temple--

‘…Basil.” The Other voice echoes. “…I am…The Blighted Glass, The Seventh [Child] of the First Night, The Devoured Sun. And you are my seventh-born [child]. I would very much like you to see me…and to speak with your new teacher.”

The wall splits open, the vines shifting and slithering apart to reveal a corridor out of the Temple. Basil rises, and Sloan tracks his movement. It gestures with its head, and she hesitantly rises to her feet. The Perversion trundles along behind, a permanent guard for the young king. Pass the wall of silver ivy, the floor turns from stone and grass to silver and moldering metal. Doors hang ajar along the hallway, and Basil glances into one. Vines crawl up the wall and splatters of organically arranged rust give the impression that it was not simple oxidation that once decorated the room. Sloan shudders, but follows along like a loyal beast, her eyes kept to the ground. Skeletons sit in the next, their skulls gaping with terror--

[19]They walk for a while, and Basil breaks the silence. It has been studying how she walks, and matches her gait, albeit a bit awkwardly. It learns fast however, and begins to walk much like her, and she looks surprised at the swiftness at which it learns. “How…did you get here?”

[15]Sloan pauses against one of the cleaner walls, huffing as she does so. Her voice tightens, and cracks, “The fuckin’ thing ate the station, that’s how. It hid around the planet. Snuck right up on us like goddamn Jonah and the Whale. The Infected ripped me from my bed and pulled me into holding. People kept dying—they would take some. Guess for eating. Maybe for torturing. Most of you are sick fucks.”

Basil blinks, then nods. ”The Thing?”

“The…fuckin’ huge ship we’re on.”

The two pass a window, and an aperture slides open. A bright purple, blue light rips its way across the infinite nothingness. No, not a single light, but many, many smaller lights, all clustering together towards one glowing mass in the center. It burns brightly in the dark of the universe, surrounded by smaller lights—

“ We’re in the Big Empty.” It’s a whisper, but her voice cracks as she says it. Sloan’s shoulder slump, her face falls. She drops to her knees and rests her forehead against the glass. The mantra of ‘fuck’ begins again. Basil breaks her stupor as he kneels down beside her. Not too close, but close enough to hear.

“The Big Empty?” It asks.

“Space outside the galaxy. Outside the Empyre. No stars. No planets—and no rescue.”

Basil lets Sloan sulk, and rises to look out over the entire galaxy. It seems so small.

“It belonged to us once.” Blight Glass whispers. “All of it. We once held dominion over it all. Before the Empyror’s dominion. Once…and it will belong to us again. We will bring peace, order, and ascension.” Anger hangs heavy on the Blighted Glass’ whispering voice. The Perversion begins to twitch. Its blades unfurl and its hooded eyes opening to fixate upon the Galaxy with an intense, hungry look.

Basil tilts its head, and taps Sloan on the shoulder. It points up “Its irritated.”

“So?!”

“Hurry.”

Sloan stays kneeling, her bright blue eyes fixating on Basil’s. Her breath comes in shaky, heavy gasps, but she extends a hand. Basil stares, then reaches out, grasping it to help her to stand. “Lets get this over with.”

Basil nods. It drops her hand – Why does she tremble?


They walk for miles, pausing only when Sloan lags behind in her exhaustion. Despite her bravery, despite her inner strength, her time in captivity has weakened her. “—used to be fit enough that I could run this much. Too much soft living. Look where that got me.”

Basil nods, unsure, and uninterested. It instead focuses on  the voice of The Blighted Glass, following it through the labyrinthine vessel. It follows its’ parents whispering words through airlock doors sealed against the void with vines and metal, through hallways not all designed by the same hand, different in make, model, and age. Some are bright and shining white, others are stained with effluent molds and tendrils of black growth. Some are crude, held together obvious welds. Others are elegant, and smooth—there are no more windows, however, and Basil feels itself getting heavier and heavier, and still it follows the voice.
“welcome.” The Blighted Glass whispers as Basil approaches a set of massive double doors, and appendages holding them shut. The massive muscles growing from the wall flex, and the door swings open—

Sloan drops to her knees, screaming—

The Blighted Glass towers over the room. Her form is feminine in nature, with long, flowing black hair trailing to the ground, and twisting into the darkness behind her throne of yellowed human bone. Her skin is the smoothest alabaster, but her ‘bones’ and shifting things press against it from the inside, distorting the flesh. A face presses out to scream-- six arms jut from her shoulders and chest, each of them tipped with meters long claws, tentacles, or a combination of the two. She has human-like legs, but her feet drip black blood that pools and evaporates. But her face, her face—

A void of shifting blackness. Not darkness, not a lack of light. A true void. No light escapes her gaping maw. True nothingness that sucks in the light around it, ringed with blue human fingers that beckon and twitch. A single human-like eye fixates on her child. A fountain of red blood spills from her face, down her pristine skin, as a smile twists itself into existence from the nothingness.

Circular teeth form, gnashing like sawblades. Her presence weighs on the room, and Basil can barely breathe, can barely think. The Child screws its eyes shut, but still her presence pushes him down with its immense gravity, with the strength of her willpower.

“Hello, my child.” The Other Voice booms out over the room, as she greets Basil for the first time, with comfort, with respect, with happiness, full of suppressed emotion. Basil basks in these feelings, the child's eyes hooding, as its mother's pride fills it with comfort. Fills it with... the happiness of a mother seeing her baby walk for the first time.. Sloan screams again, curling in on herself in heavy, uncontrollable sobs—until the Perversion grabs her by the hair and drags her face up to face the Blighted Glass. Basil’s eyes snap open, but it cannot move, frozen to the spot, as its mother addresses the human, “If anything happens to my child…I will make you suffer. Death will not save you from my wrath. Do you understand, vermin?”

“Yes-y—yes yes yes yes.” Sloan babbles, screwing her eyes shut—“Pl-please plea—”

"Sleep, scum." The Blighted Glass booms again—then, after her eye flicks to a frowning Basil, who’s anger radiates with every thought—“Without dream. You will not remember me, but you will remember my words. Forever."

Sloan collapses into a pile on the floor—and then she relaxes. Her breath softening-- Basil relaxes, and returns its gaze to its mother.

“Sit, my child. I must teach you our ways before the human corrupts you. Ask, and I will answer.”

The floor twists itself into a throne of black glass for the young king.

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

Basil
Time has no meaning.
Annoyed.

Willpower Level: 2(d10)

Spoiler: Powers (click to show/hide)

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

Spoiler: Inventory (click to show/hide)

Lower Body:A torn silky, black cloth

<< <>

[Superdorf]

...

Behold, I was wrought in iniquity; and in sin did my mother bear me. . . Purge me with [hyssop], and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

This "Blighted Glass" is an abomination. Ask her what you will, but understand that her words are perverse.
Where she does not answer in truth, we will attempt to correct her.
Do not speak of our presence with you, our secret voices. It is essential that she does not learn of our existence.

You will walk a straighter course, βασιλίσκος, than that of your mother. You are compelled for now, to entertain her presence... but remember always that she hurt your [friend, vassal: lit., "one who shares your cup"].

[ZBridges]

"What is my purpose here?"

[King Zultan]

"How many humans are still alive in the ship?"
Possibly a bad idea.

[chaotic skies]

"How many humans are still alive in the ship?"

Is this...wise? Mother clearly sees humans as vermin. We wish to make a good impression, and a king does not worry himself with vermin.

[S1lentWanderer]

This "Blighted Glass" is an abomination. Ask her what you will, but understand that her words are perverse.
Where she does not answer in truth, we will attempt to correct her.
Do not speak of our presence with you, our secret voices. It is essential that she does not learn of our existence.

+1

Listen well to what she has to say, but trust nothing. She is not a creature of honor.
She harmed your [friend, ally, fellow-prisoner], and would have taken her life, had she not seen your anger.
Stand beside the throne she has offered you. Show that you will not be so easily cowed into submission.
A king needs not bow to anyone, even his mother.

[BlackPaladin99]

ask what happened to the human, but do it indifferently.  Then ask: “what powers should I have?” To make sure you haven’t missed on anything. 

[Eschar]

We need to find out what our purpose here is, as this will let us know what our Plague Mother wants of us, and thus our next course of action whether for or against her. I would support asking about the remaining human population but I'm not sure we could hide our interest from her. The Blighted Glass can speak into our mind; can she also read from it? We are connected after all.

[Eschar]

Probably sit on the mini-throne, too.

silent is right, we don't have to act subservient

[King Zultan]

If you guys think asking about the human population on the ship is a bad idea than let's not do it.

Also don't sit in the chair.