It was too bright. The vestiges of power that the Kenku had clung to were beginning to burn away. Memories fragmented- slipped away- disappeared- and with them so too did the power that was granted to Whisper by his Patron and Master. Greatness was stripped from his very soul, power and purpose eradicated in the oppressive light of these Bright Lands... Finally the cycle of death and visions was broken, finally his spirit could try to piece itself back together with the echo of his Master's voice in his mind.

and what remained was the shell of Death's Apprentice. A being coalescing of shadows, murky and bestowed of an abyssal gloom, took form in the recesses of the Altar that Yin had lain upon. The wretched form of Whisper- a puppet without strings, bones holding up a shell of skin and feathers, a faceless horror of skull and beak, an eyeless creature ever watching- solidified in this place of darkness and rose from it into visibility. At first it was as if the strange Kenku were asleep, its body somewhat curled in on itself, but in short order the spectral creature unfurled and presented itself to the others. Its robes were dark and heavy, the feathers of a dense and dark cloak blending with his natural plumage where possible- and offering some semblance of coverage for his gangling and strange appearance in others. His arms moved stiffly, the quiet creak of bones apparent in his otherwise languid movements; he raised his arms up and pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head, stifling most of the skull into shadow that left his beak protruding out into the visible strata of light. Quietly, almost purely to himself, the beak parted to utter a phrase in a voice as timeless and as booming as the thudding of tombstones into earth;

[b]DEATH IS ONLY A BEGINNING[/b].

The hood shifts, attention moving to speaking voices. Feathers rise, danger sensed. An arm reaches out into empty air, a hand only half-covered by flesh and feather stretching and coiling experimentally. Seemingly satisfied, the creature's hand suddenly closed tightly into the air as shadows whirled about its spectral form and coalesced into the form of a large reaping scythe, which it brought about to bear in both hands. Gripping this weapon tightly seemed to bring about an air of comfort to the strange Kenku, and as the hood tilted down to give the impression of a gaze being lowered Whisper appraised the girl on the altar. A weighty inspection.

"I think we shall call you Whisper."

This time when the Kenku's beak parted, the soft and pleasant tones of a woman's voice slipped from the beak. It occurred to Whisper that he had no recollection of who the voice had belonged to even as the words left his beak. This made his grip on the scythe tighten visibly as he lowered his head further. Damn that insufferable Brightness. He would remember with time...

But for now, he resolved himself to protect this girl. Whoever she was, she did not deserve this fate. He decided this suddenly, but he felt secure and comfortable in the resolution. So far, keeping her alive was the only thing that made any sense- and he still remembered enough to know that keeping people alive was most certainly not his ordinary order of business. There was never a simple day of work anymore.

[hr]

Mechanical tidbits; Summoned Pact of the Blade weapon, re-flavored 'Halberd' as a Scythe