Sorcerer… Cyborg???

Chapter 153: The Mask(2)

"Before we leave, come over here, Rufus! Lucio and I have something to give to you." Docara waved Kothar over, standing next to him was an enormous member of the Nighthawks. He towered over Docara and his mask was quite possibly one of the most elaborate that Kothar had seen amongst the Nighthawks. It was an impossibly accurate depiction of a crying woman, all accurate to life, except the woman cried tears of blood. That mask had been enchanted so that the tears ran down the face, and the longer you stared at the mask, the more it seemed that it was not a woman you were staring at, but a terrifying demon that was escaping from the mask. 

"This is for you." Lucio rumbled, holding out a thick canvas bag, clutching it in delicate long fingered hands that didn't fit his stature at all. He wore a large rough canvas tunic and leather boots, and only his mask seemed to have real care put into it. Even Lucio's hair was scraggly and tangled, and a mess of blond locks tumbled all around the frightful mask he wore on his face.

"We call this, the wailing widow." Lucio said to the engrossed Kothar, tapping him on the shoulder so as to stir him out from the trance that the mask had pulled him into.

"Lucio's been making these masks for years, General Tam had them issued to many of his men who were on clandestine missions, on account of their inherent quality of being able to send even the most rigid and resistant minds into a trance." Docara said in a lighthearted tone, and nodded at the bag.

"Thought I'd ask Lucio to make you one, on account of how it'll be getting far too hot to be wearing that heavy metal helmet everywhere. But to my surprise,  he'd already finished a mask for you." Docara crossed his arms and nodded in approval as Kothar took the bag, and opened it.

[How beautiful/terrifying.] Kothar and Silane exclaimed together, as they took their firs look at the mask. It was clear that Lucio had spent much time on it, and the mask rippled and shifted before Kothar's eyes.

The eyes of the mask were wide and glaring, and the brow angled upwards in an almost vertical frown, before ending in graceful swirls. The nose jutted forward, and had similar carving patterns carved into it around the edges. 

The mask's mouth was opened in a permanent snarl, thick purple lips drawn back over jagged white teeth, and a scarlet tongue that seemed to twist and taste the air before Kothar's eyes.

Kothar sent mana to his mana sensing lens, but he could not see any clear runic constructs, all he could see was an increased mana density within the mask. It seemed that Lucio's art went beyond what Mages knew of enchanting items, and instilled them with some hypnotic quality. 

In his studies with Simon, Kothar had come across passages that described such gifted individuals, who were able to create intricate works that instilled their own brand of magic within them, without the use of standardized runes or techniques.

All together, the mask seemed to portray the face of a demon, and depending on how one looked at it and for how long, the entire multi-colored demonic face would either look as though it were grinning maniacally or snarling at the viewer.

"That's got to be one of his best works yet, and those colors would set a man's head reeling all on their own!" Docara exclaimed as he peered over Kothar's shoulder to get a decent look at the mask.

"They stay on so well that you'll wonder if they've got suckers on them that attach to the skin, and they'll even stop an errant blow from a weapon in a pinch, treasure it well." Docara rapped his knuckles on his own mask before walking off to continue exchanging jibes with Jeb.

"This mask, it is the face of the demon that play the drums of the storm. He is the one who creates the thunder and the lightning, good mask for you!" Lucio rumbled, and then strolled away, leaving Kothar to stare at the mask in his hands.

[That's really something, huh, guess he was impressed by your performance at the outpost.] Silane commented, as she also took in the mask, it was grotesque, yet still somehow beautiful, especially in the craftsmanship of even the small wrinkles at the corner of the eyes, and the fine pustules on the tongue.

Kothar went below decks to exchange the stuffy helm for the new mask, and found an unoccupied cabin. They had slept in bunks, with many of the soldiers covering the side of their bunk with a sheet, for even amongst the Nighthawks, they concealed their faces.

Kothar removed the helm, and the mask from the Multi Planar Equipment, letting it rest under the top of his breastplate.

Docara was right, the mask gripped his head as though it had suckers, and stayed secure even as Kothar swung his head side to side to test it.

[If anyone was watching you swing your head about, they'd laugh.] Silane commented, laughing a little herself at Kothar's antics.

Kothar only smiled to himself, before tucking the helm under one arm and returning above decks, where all the members of the unit were slowly gathering, bringing their bedrolls and gear, Kothar included.

One by one, as the sun grew lower and lower in the sky, they climbed over the side of the ship. And into the waiting canoe. Soon, a man sat at each oar, and they began to row, backs to the coast, pulling away as the sun set in front of them. 

They were all silent in their thoughts, for all of the Nighthawks knew that they would be initiating a period of bloodshed and destruction that the Isle had never seen before, and if they were successful , would never see again.