140 Chapter 7.27 - Greater Form

'By my wicked will and strength of soul, by sweeping scythe and deathly grasp, by each and every biting moment of this cold and dark winter I will defeat you.'

To a casual observer of the episode unfolding, this is what was assumed to be going through the mind of the anti-hero in front of them. There, a spirit of decay, wrapped in his slips of dark cloth and a touch of shadow, extended a hand sickle he had made form discarded animal bone and attacked his target.

His target? The mighty and powerful plague rat. Rats were common in the waste management area of Haven. Most of the time, they scurried away to munch on unprocessed 'material' and would do so until they evolved into the larger dire rats. This is when the spirits of decay would step in and vanquish this foe. They were the masters of the domain of death, and the waste and recycling areas were 'extensions of their will', at least in their minds.

However, very rarely, a challenger would appear. A dangerous foe that attempted to coerce, then usurp these rulers of death. The exotic plague rat.

When they reach the point to change as a creature, sometimes rats would become plague rats, carriers of death and disease. And although this could be seen as an extension of the Spirits of Decay's will, it would not be had. The plague rats took in no masters. Also, by the great pact, the spirits of decay knew that they would continue to receive corpses and enemies, whetstones for their advancement, if they protected the life within Haven from interlopers. So that is what they did.

Today was no different, as this spirit faced off against his deadliest foe. The plague rat.

In his mind, the spirit most likely thought of it as a grand battle between the forces of lawful neutral and chaotic evil.

To the casual observer, it was a half meter miniature skeleton in an ill fitted hood and cloak whacking at a rat with a sharpened pelvic bone.

Whether from the perspective of the casual observer or the spirit, the outcome was the same. The spirit had vanquished his great enemy, and it seemed to have been the last bit needed for him to level up past his threshold. This spirit was the first created, and always took the lead with the others. He took time to teach and lead his fellow spirits, and took on his duties with a righteous vigor of an expert in the war between life and death.

As such, this spirit, first of his kind, was the first to need to go on 'the great pilgrimage'.

On a brisk winter morning, if one was out and about, it was possible to observe this small being move down the street. His movement took him down the quiet streets towards his holy place, the land where death is welcomed. He had not been back since his time of form, but now he needed to change, and had to petition the master at this gateway to let him in.

To the casual observer, there was a small skeleton waddling down the street.

After the long and arduous journey that took roughly 1 hour of walking time, stopping to meet with his adoring fans, the spirit folk made it to his holy land, a place colloquially referred to as 'Jan's Lab'.

With much reverence, the spirit knocked. A bleary eyed master of the gateway between life and death, the counterpart to his position, the master of the house Jan, answered the door. "Do you have any idea what time it is? I went to sleep less than an hour ago!"

The spirit kowtowed. He had upset the master, who grumbled about being risen from his slumber. It was unheard of for spirits to upset the master, but today was of great import to this particular spirit, as he had come far enough. The fresh corpses that used to come to the recycling plant had been diverted to those who consume. He had to waylay them at the source, and for this he woke the great master.

The master, disarmed by the reverence of the spirit, finally responded. "Alright, I get it. It's important. I will make coffee. You can come in. Just don't break anything."

The spirit came in. As usual, this temple was prepared. The sacrifices were aware that they would be consumed, and as usual there were a few of the walking soulless and even a few corpses. The spirit eyed one of those that were lined up in chains.

This spiritfolk had used the skull of a horned rabbit, a fierce foe in life, to delineate its head. But his new form would require more. He had found instead the skull of a flame jackal, a large canine that in life could produce yelps of fire. This he had brought with him.

The spirit showed his new head to Jan and tried to explain. Jan understood his intent, and replied. "Do whatever, but don't make a mess. I will take note and drink coffee."

The spirit nodded, and having received the master's approval, walked over to one of the living. The spirit could see. Death lingered around this person. His fate was sealed. The spirit could see the path he had taken, and which route had lead to this inevitability. The spirit, normally relegated to speeding along decay, would take this time to speed along death. The spirit gently took his new head, the skull of a jackal, and adorned it upon the kneeling petitioner.

To the casual observer, Jan, barely awake, let the spirit do whatever it needed, caring more about the coffee than whatever was about to happen. The spirit then went over to one of the prisoner's of war and cast a spell, putting him in a trance. The POW went to his knees and the spirit then tried to put a skull hat on him, but his current form's arms were too short. The spirit then walked, picked up a few books and began stacking them making a small staircase. Then when he was at the appropriate height he placed the skull on his head.

Suddenly the lights in the eyes of the spirit's rabbit skull left and moved to over to the jackal skull on the POW's head. That was when the screaming started.

If Jan wasn't awake before, he was now. The screaming continued as the muscles and skin decayed, replacing with wisps of shadow. Jan, who had spilled his coffee in surprise, simply stared at the form in front of him. Head of a Jackal's Skull, body of a human skeleton, wreathed in a cloak of shadow, and carrying a bone scythe formed form his old form, Jan stood in awe. The new form of the spirit bowed, and this time seemed less comical, and more formal.

The awe lasted for only a few moments, until the stronger spirit of decay let out a groan of death, and a second spirit came out. This one dove into one of the corpses in the out processing area, exploding the body in a mess of blood and ichor, forming itself into another small corpse. The stronger spirit ceremoniously gave the younger spirit its old head of a horned rabbit, a father gifting a 'name' to his son.

"I thought I said not to make a bloody mess, and that is exactly what you did!!!"

The spirit, having concluded his ceremony and producing an heir to the helm of the rabbit, left. His offspring had broken the agreement he had made with the master of the temple, the purity of its form of clean death. Disgraced, the spirit took his son in tow to teach him the ways of waste management and resource recycling. He knew when the time came for his son and him to gain their next forms, they would need to seek them outside sanctuary of the Temple of Master Jan.

To the casual observer, Jan's door burst open, and Jan pushed the now human sized spirit folk out and literally threw out the other spirit screaming about blood, screaming 'resources', and how expensive specialized housekeepers cost.