Discovery Gaming Community

Full Version: Yurnero, the last of the Faceless
You're currently viewing a stripped down version of our content. View the full version with proper formatting.
[Image: wxSlH2S.jpg]

Yurnero, the last of the Faceless


Part One
Visage of Vengeance


In front a vast blue ocean mass of Kyushu covering most of the view. The horizon interrupted only by the silhouettes of distant drowning isles. Yurnero looked down as the waves crashed to and from the bright orange sand. ''Today is the day. The day I become a man. I will complete my final test and embrace the honor the fate bestowed upon me''. He began his training on the Isle of Masks years ago, a lifetime ago as it seems. The Tribe of the Masked accepts only the devoted and disciplined to learn the ways of Kenjutsu and become one of the Faceless. A lifestyle characterized by abstinence from various worldly pleasures, with the aim of pursuing spiritual goals through swordplay and other practices that involve restraint with respect to actions of body, speech, and mind.

Whoosshhh!! A group of ships flew over his head. A couple of Hogoshan Black Dragons and a Geisha stayed in formation as they continued towards the village. ''Trouble''. Yurnero said as he followed the engine trails on the sky running and cutting through the thick foliage of the Islands jungle back to the village. As he approached the outskirts of the village a loud plasma discharge echoed the air, scarring the jungles' wildlife. ''Did that change your mind? Are you giving up the land now?'' is what Yurnero heard as he hid in the bush just out of eyesight. A short and stubby man in a silver suit looked across for an answer. He was surrounded with a dozen or so tattooed henchmen, their guns unholstered and aimed at the other side. A redheaded women with a high powered plasma rifle stood right behid that stubby man, a bodyguard as it seems. The guns' barrel still steaming with smoke as it was fired recently. Its victim laid on the ground a few dozen meters ahead, a perfect headshot. At the opposing side men standing still as if they did note the death of their fellow tribesman. Covering their faces were ornate masks, hand carved. They shone an eerily white, made from bone. Their swords drown out, ready to send the next enemy to its demise. ''The Tribe of the Masked bows down to none, we face our threat, be it Samura or some other dishonorable foe'' said the first of the Masked. ''As you wish'' the Samuran replied giving the signal to his group. The guns opened fire, killing most of its targets in mere seconds. What is left of the Masked dashed forward, their swords hungry for blood cutting through Hogoshan flesh with a vengeful frenzy. As the laser fire pierced the air, the very last Masked swordsman fell to the ground right on top of the Hogoshan he managed to slay. The slaughter was over. The Tribe was gone. All because some Samuran executive decided they need more land to grow Kyushu rice.

Yurnero laid on the ground, motionless, speechless, devastated. His heart pumped so fast he thought it would burst. He slowly crawled backward, got up and started running back to the beach without turning to check if someone was chasing him. He ran and ran until his body betrayed him. It left him lying down broken, unconscious of the fatigue on a pale beach somewhere. Yurnero woke up, disoriented. Who knows how many hours or days passed. Sunlight belted his face. He looked around him, the surroundings unknown. He sat up, taking in deep breaths. Wherever he was, he had survived. He walked over to the water and washed his body of sand. He stared at his reflection within the clear blue, his face staring back at him. ''What did my fellow men say? Better to die than to live without a mask''. Yurnero kicked at his reflection, distorting it as the water splashed. To be maskless was to be less than a man. He set off into the forest behind him, determined. That would be the last time he would see his face.

In the distance was a large boar, nearly twice his size. It grazed idly, finding a pile of acorns beneath an oak tree. It was clueless as to what was stalking it from the trees. Yurnero was determined to carry out the final task: to kill the worshiped Behemoth boar barehanded. This fearsome and a dangerous creature was a challenge to any hunter equipped with a plasma rifle let alone the barehanded trainee Yurnero was. Yurnero looked around him, trying to find a weapon he could use. Looking up, he had noticed the boar was migrating away, its tusks shining bright in the sun. Yurnero grabbed a nearby stick, there was no time to choose a better weapon and he was forbidden to use his sword or dagger. The boar's ears twitched, and it turned around to find Yurnero bring a stick crashing down between its eyes.
Enraged, the boar jerked its head up, sending its massive tusk towards Yurnero's heart. He spun, narrowly missing the sharp ivory. At the end of his spin, he let out a devastating counterblow, stabbing his weapon into the boar's soft underbelly. Powerful hind legs made their way into Yurnero's chest, throwing him backward. He choked out a cry of pain, but before he could recover the boar came charging. Panicking, his mind went blank. It was almost as if his body took over. With a quick sidestep the boar crashed into the tree in front of it, embedding its tusks deep within. Exhausted, it whimpered. Yurnero grabbed the stick with both hands. He could put it out of its misery. Lifting it high over his head, he brought the end of his stick crashing down into the boar's skull, time after time, until it was no more.

He set up a large fire, preparing the boar to be roasted. Some of it was set aside for a small sacrifice, and as he ate he said a prayer to the Boar God.
"May this offering appease the God of health, virility, and alacrity. Today I was the stronger boar, but his death served much purpose." Yurnero grabbed the two tusks he had extracted. With his dagger, he started the arduous task of fashioning a mask. It took most of the night, but in the end he had it. He cut a shallow trough into the mask, and as a final touch he poured some of the slain boar's blood into it, staining it red-orange.
''I will not stop until the deaths of my brethren are avenged. Until every single one of those murderers is slashed in half by my sword and the hunger of the Boar God for vengeance is satisfied''.
Adorning his mask, he stood up, cloaked himself with the boars' pelt and began walking into the sunset. He had become Faceless. He had become a man.

''By the Visage of Vengeance, which drowned in the Isle of Masks, I will carry on the rites of the Faceless Ones." he vowed.


[Image: rRNIe95.jpg]