The Man in the Mask

Tone 6th

The Guardian
Original poster
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per day
  2. One post per day
Online Availability
4:00pm Est to 12:00am
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
Yet another cold rainy day in the Shinzo Wetlands, but that was normal now a days. When it wasn't raining the plain was covered in fog so thick you couldn't see two feet in front of you. However, the rain and fog weren't the problem it was what lurked in them.

Powerful creatures call Karzo lurked and hunted in these lands. Beasts so powerful they could tear a body to shreds in seconds.

Yet somehow humanity managed to survive. Villages start to spring up here and there, then mining became popular. Cashes of iron, coal, bronze, abd gold were found in the sides of hills and small mountains. With all this ore humanity rose up from the mud and water of the ground and took to the skies creating floating cities. These cities housed the worlds most elite people's from billionaires to politicians, and for them life was good.

For the less well off they were forced to stay in the muck and mud of the wetlands. Though these people were not without defence from the monsters of this world. Weapons were made to fight the Karzo, and soon enough they too carved out a place in this world.

Now people called Hunters take on jobs to protect people from Karzo, as well as help transport good to the cities.

It is here where our story behind, with one such hunter.

------

The hunter was cold and had just finished a job protecting a high ranking city dweller who was heading back home. It was an easy job but a long one. He collected his payment and went to the nearest bar, a small place dug into the side of a hill.

The hunter walked in and took a seat. The inside was pretty empty save from two other guys who were listen to the radio, and the bar keeper.

"One hot ale please." The hunter spoke and paid the bar keeper.

The two near the radio were listening to some high up big shot from one of the main corporations in the city talk about how he's found a way to to wipe out the Karzo for good.

The hunter god up, walked over, and switched station to some annoying pop song "Much better." He said and went back to his drink.

"Hey asshole we're listening to that!" One of the thugs called out, he looked pretty pissed off.

"Yeah and I'm listening to this, so shut up and mind your manners." The hunter said before he brought the pint to his mask, the mouth piece opening.

Both of the thugs walked over and got on either side of him. "Think your hot shit huh? Just because you're wearin a stupid mask you think you can just waltz in here and do what you want?" One asked.

The hunter just continued to drink.

"What you think this is fuckin funny!" He went to grab the mans glass.


*WHAM!* The hunter grabbed the back of the thugs head and slammed it into the bar.

Thug was rolled on the ground as his nose started to gush blood "You bastard you broke my goddamn nose!"

"Leave me alone or I'll break more then just your nose."

"Fuck you!" The other thug grabbed the pint and soon found himself with a broken arm as the hunter punched his elbow hard, the joint snapping.

"Thank you for the drink." He got up and went back into the rain looking for an inn and a store to buy more supplies.
 
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After asking locals for some directions, he soon found the local general store. The name of the place itself was difficult to distinguish as the paint on the sign had all but weathered away by the continuous rain. Not that it mattered to the locals. It was simply a reality that most that lives on the ground were illiterate. There was instead a large icon carved into the wood signpost over the door of a balance scale.

The clerk at the counter lifted his eyes in response to the creaky door opening from the magazine he was reading. However, his posture straightened when he saw the nameless hunter walk in. The other locals who had been in the store perusing the goods hugged the wall and slipped out around the hunter as he walked inside.

"May I help you?" the clerk offered.

The hunter didn't say anything. There was only the mask staring back at him. There was unease in the clerk's face now. Hunters were a rare sight, and he didn't know this mask from the popular faces shown in printed photographs that circled around, traded like baseball cards. The clerk cleared his throat; he wasn't yet sure this would degrade into a robbery. The hunter put the bag that was being carried on the table. The clerk moved slowly and started to sift through the bag.

"Ah, the inside's dry!" the clerk actually looked amazed. "Is that plastic lining? Where'd you get this?" Again, silence. "Sorry."

Based on what was already in the bag, the clerk moved around the store to pick up stuff and put it onto the counter in a neat line for the hunter to inspect the goods. Standard stuff like flint and lamp oil, as well as some standard canned goods. The hunter started to shove those items into the bag once enough items were on the table before the clerk could protest. The hunter just as quickly put out some rare chunks of mineral on the counter to compensate, though he had a hand on the dirty magazine the clerk had left on the counter.

"On the house." said the clerk. The hunter quickly put it into the bag as well and closed it, then walked out to find an inn to stay at for the night. He found one close by as the store was in the central for this backwater community.
 
The inn was a little rundown, holes in the roof, the smell of damp wood, but that was every building in the rainy wastes.

"Don't get many hunters around here." the inn keeper looked the man up and down.

"A room, two nights." the hunter placed a steel bar on the counter.

The inn keeper grabbed a key off the wall and handed it to him "Check out is at first light."

"I'll gone before then." the man took the key and turned.

"How about a drink my friend?" a figure sat in the dark corner of a small bar that was next to front desk.

The hunter paused before pulling out the other chair at the small table. The man across from him had his face obscured in shadow, almost like he was wearing a black vale. He smiled reeked of cigarette smoke and booze. From what the hunter could see he was wearing a gray suit with a black tie. He slid a shot of glass of whisky and smiled, his lips curled around yellowed teeth. "I've got a problem and I heard you fix problems with no questions asked for the right price."

The hunter took dirty whisky glass and the mouth piece of his mask opened, he sipped it. "Whats the problem?"

"To west of here there is a mining town that has recently had a monster infestation. All I need is for the monsters to be taken care of, a simple problem really." the stranger pointed.

The hunter took a second and just sipped his drink "Whats it pay?" he finally answered.

"10,000 credits." the man replied.

"Credits don't count for much down here."

"Very well, 10 silver bars. Silver is very far to come by these days so I think you know the value of my offer."

"I do, but I have to ask what kind of monsters are we talking?" the hunter leaned in.

"No questions, do we have a deal?"

"... We do, but I want half now and half when I get back."

"Of course, the silver is already in your room. Have a nice day." the man got up and left.
 
The hunter downed the rest of his drink. As he got up from his chair he heard several other chairs move across the floor. When he turned around the rest of the people in the lobby had cleared out. At the front of the lobby was a large gang of men armed with swords.

"That's him!" yelled the man at the back. "That's the fuck who broke my nose and arm!"
"That was me being nice." seethed the hunter through his voice synthesizer mask.
"You messed with the wrong gang."
"Any limb that gets five feet from me will be cut off." said the hunter, his voice amplified from the mask so everyone could hear. "That is not a threat, but a promise. I could use the human flesh for monster bait."
Some of the gang members appeared hesitant.
"What the fuck you're waiting for? Kill him!"

Two of the men charged at the hunter. The hunter's sword quickly shot out the sleeve of his arm from a spring trigger. With a swift circle cut their hands were cut off and he jumped back onto the table.

"You see how fucking nice I am?" said the hunter. I didn't have to move back. I chose to. Your heads would be on the floor otherwise. They count as limbs."

Instead of being deterred, the gang started to slowly enter the large room, encircling him.

"Five feet, cut clean. Ten feet, slashed. After that, whatever I want."
 
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A loud gun shot went off and one of the gang members fell to the ground with a hole in his head. "GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!" the inn manager yelled with a shotgun in his hands. "If you want to fight do it outside not in here!" He cocked the gun.

"Shall we then?" The hunter asked.

The group moved outside and everyone got out of the way. "You come between me and a warm bed, bad fuckin move." He said to the group of thugs. "Play song 008." He spoke. The song started to play in his ear from his mask.

As the music started to play her raised his sword and started to shut out the world around him, focusing only on the music. He started to tap his foot to the beat and when the music picked up he rushed into the group.

The thugs attacked, one slashed at him but it was easy to block. *CLANG!* He parried the simple attack and, in a spray of blood, cut his arm clean off.

The thug fell to the ground screaming and bleeding, but it didn't stop the others. One of them got behind him and came down on him. *Thud!* The blade hit his cloak and stopped, the fabric rippling. "What the fuck! It's like hitting a god damn wall!" The man shouted, going back for a second strike.

He was met with a foot planet in his stomach as the Hunter kicked him back, then took his arms from his body. He faced the rest of the group "Well come on then!" He said as the song picked up again.

He ran at them again and cut three men down in the blink of an eye. Blood mixed with the rain water and muck. He looked at the remaining few and readied his sword.
 
The others turned to run. The hunter lifted his arm and a small barrel stuck out from his sleeve. He shot the one with the broken nose, the instigator of this confrontation, squarely in the back. He wasn't in the mood to have any more interruptions while in this particular slum.

He then started to pick up limbs to collect as monster bait while the paralyzed onlookers fled back indoors. There were moans of pain from the those that didn't yet die from blood loss, but the hunter paid them no mind as he simply shoved the limbs into large clear plastic bags, while his music continued to play. After the bag reached capacity, another extension from his arm sealed the bag and sucked the air from it, vacuum sealing them. In particular, he cut the broken nosed head off the leader with his sword; some monsters preferred brain. The hotel staff, meanwhile, were pitching out bodies and their parts into the muddy streets.

When he walked back inside, the inn manager was barking orders at the staff to clean the place up. He then saw the hunter walk back in and glared, shotgun still in hand. The music from the hunter's suit continued to play. The hunter walked past with the shotgun trained on him, up to his room.

Opening the door slowly, the hunter slowly unsheathed his sword. He saw the five silver bars, as promised, on top of the bed. He knelt down and placed his head on the ground, looking under the bed, stood up, and abruptly opened the closet from the side, also empty. After shoving the silver bars into his bag, he flipped over the neatly made mattress off the frame. There were no windows, which was at least a good thing. After closing the door again, he remade the bed expertly. He hadn't slept on a mattress for about a month.
 
It was time to head for the mining village of Galus. The hunter had the limbs he collected shaved for meat and some dried, then was off.

The rain was coming down in sheets as the man traversed the rocky foot hills. The water rolled off his cloak. Steam rose from stones that were warmed by the earth, and hit by the cold rain.

The silhouettes of creatures darted through the mist, some monstrous, some small, all dangerous. Their calls and roars bounced off cold hills.

The hunter kept walking keeping as quiet as he could. Though there was a tapping on the rocks behind him. The hunter stopped and grabbed his sword, drawing and turning all at the same time. "Shit." He whispered.

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The gigantic tarantulas shrieked sharp battle cries as they shot globs of acid at the warrior from all directions. He rolled and ducked under one of the lobs, right near the mandibles of one of the monsters. He tried to run between a gap between two of the monsters. They were perceptive, however. One of them jumped just after he jumped, using its weight to tackle him and keep him on the ground.