Thread: Masks [Lagertha x Ryees]

Leorn Ero - Artist Masked One 698 years ago. There had also been knowledge of the Masks, everyone knew about them. Well, at least eight of them to begin with. Then, eventually, eleven had been chosen at one point. It had been about four hundred years at this point, 1098 years ago, that all eleven of the masks had been awoke at the sometime and in use. It had been odd, and interesting, but it had quickly reverted back to it's old ways One Masked, or five Masked, sometimes ten Masked in use. Normally..it seemed at any given time there was a normal flow of at least three Masked in use at a time. Eleven Reason, Emotion, Chaos, Order, Warrior, Divine, Overseer, Executioner, Sorcerer, Beast, and the Watcher. Those were the known Masks up until this point 698 years earlier...so where did Leorn Ero come into play? Leorn Ero was a fickle man. He was tall, skinny, and often tripped over his own feet. He had always been a weird man. Skinny like a skeleton, curly blond hair, large glasses that covered half his face. Awkward. Socially unaccepted by the masses. Leorn Ero kept to himself for majority of his life. How could anyone like him be special? But...he had a gift for art. He loved to sculpt, to make any type of three-dimensional artwork he could. This, was his gift, and it was the one thing that had allowed the weird man some form of happiness. He got a career. He moved out of his impoverished town, a town which no longer existed and it's name long forgotten, and moved to the Capital to make more money, to live a better life. There were only eleven masks known to existence, and he knew being in the Capital would bring him closer to the Masked ones, the ones who made the basic laws and regulations for the world. Where the Kings and Queens of the twelve Kingdoms gathered to discuss with their chosen deity, Masked, about important decisions. For some reason. Leorn Ero was hoping just to be close to the Masked ones. Maybe he would get to see one. Maybe they would ask him to make a sculptor. Maybe, he would not feel as awkward. From the way the stories were told of Leorn Ero..he went mad. A voice called to him. Repeating his name over and over, urging him to listen. It had started as a whisper..but over the days and weeks he stayed at the Capital, the voice grew louder the more alone he felt. Finally, when Leorn Ero was in his forties, the Voice was screaming in his head day and night. LISTEN! It screamed in an angry voice. COME TO ME LEORN ERO!The voice was strong, and Leorn Ero had lost sleep. Red bags were under his eyes, and finally, the crazed man listened to the voice. GET OUT OF MY HEAD! Leorn Ero had first yelled back. Until this point, when the voice was too overwhelming for him to ignore anymore. I choose you. The voice called to Leorn Ero. Leorn Ero thought himself mad, to the point he would have to see the doctor. Perhaps his success was going to his head, the perfect lifelike forms of the human sculptors he was making were in high demand. Still, he followed where the voice told him to go. If he found nothing, he knew he was really insane. To the point he needed to be put away... Leorn Ero was not going mad. He was not insane as he traveled further in further under the Capital to the ruins below. There, after hours of moving rock and ruble, there he found the room. There, under the rocks, he found the Mask. A Mask no one had ever seen before. One with insane colors that fused with him, DNA, Blood, Soul. One that took over. Every Masked one knows how overwhelming the power is. How hard it is to be in control of the entity. For Leorn Ero...it didn't take him long to get in control. However, he and his art was never the same. His perfect sculptors took a more angular form, rougher, more dark. The line blurred, between what artwork was his and the mask. Classical work of realism turned to pure abstract. But it took Leorn Ero only a year to dial it back to a happy medium. He could still sculpt people, but where their edges had once been smooth and realistic, he no longer sanded out the rough lines off their face and features. Truth was shown through his work. Finally, Leorn Ero had found his place. A Masked one. A member of the council of Masked. He become what he always wanted an extrovert, a happy funny man. If only, in his Masked form. Artist. People rejoiced when the thirteenth Mask joined the ranks. Although, the other users did not quiet enjoy his joining of them. All men. All testosterone. All Humanlike. All more or less one skin tone. How selective the Masks were. Only taking one group over the others. To no extent it outraged Leorn Ero. The Artist, his friend, tried to counsel him, but it helped littler. Leorn Ero was in full control of his Mask, his powers, and his outbursts came out frequently in the council meetings. The other Eleven, loathed the Artist..while the people, the middle and poor, celebrated his presence. Easily. Order and Reason had found him out his true identity through his work. They had caught him, after noticing his outbursts, during his transformation into his Masked self. With their knowledge of him, the others worked to deface him to the public. Buildings were painted by students Leorn Ero had taught, sculptors made in his image, half Masked as the Artist, half unmasked, with his name below, and a script of word saying Down with the Artist!... You see. Some people seek peace, love, equality...Leorn Ero fell under this category. For twenty years peace had reigned with him in power as the Artist. But for twenty years, the other Masked ones had schemed to dethrone him. For some people seek chaos, power over others, madness. At sixty-three, the people wanted Leorn Ero dead. thanks to the paintings on the buildings, the sculptors of him...Leorn Ero knew he was not safe. The Mask, his friend, begged him to run into hiding, but Leorn Ero loved these people...and wanted to bring them joy, laughter, and peace...his heart would be the end of him. It had only taken a week of the paintings and sculptors showing his true identity to the world, before the people had turned. They blamed him for any problems they had. The Rich were unhappy that the poor would not bow to them, the middle class were hungry for power, and Leorn Ero the Artist was to blame. Story goes, Leorn Ero had gone to see a village, to help the children have a healthy outlet...Story goes the villagers had setup a trap to lure him out. And the story goes they tore him to pieces, literally. Divine, the Masked one, had been behind this. Telling the people this is what the Gods wanted. So they had listened. So they had killed Leorn Ero. So his mask had broken free from him as he screamed and begged for mercy. The Mask had hide, watching him be torn apart...and it had watched as they hurried his remains, spreading him out over the world so he could never find peace in the afterlife...Now people wanted the Mask, to die itself... Struck with grief, the Artist Mask took form with what little energy it had left over from being tethered to Leorn Ero. Angered, mad, insane from the lose of it's Wearer, the Artist slaughtered the villages, the Divine Wearer who had co-hershed them into killing his Wearer Leorn Ero. He painted the village, Ud-op, in paint, colors, and blood. Gruesome was the scene, before the Artist Mask had disappeared from the face of the world. No matter how much the people searched, the mask would not be found.