Dawn: Origins/Stripes

## Stripes

"**Stripes**" is the first chapter and short story of the *Dawn: Origins* anthology series. This first chapter was published to the site on June 30, 2022.

The story follows Antumbrian privateer Tiger taking on a job during the first year of the tumultuous Faceless Wars.

## Plot

Panthigeros was a privateer. As soon as he reached young adulthood, he took the opportunity to venture out beyond the deserts of his homeworld of Antumbria and dive deeper into the stars. A born explorer, Panthigeros took every new experience, both fulfilling and life threatening (although sometimes the line was blurred for someone as audacious as him), in stride as he hopped from world to world throughout the Cassiopeia Galaxy. As a privateer, the Antumbrian man accepted tasks from all sorts of people, whether they were from well-known organizations or common folk who lived on smaller worlds. He felt as if he was genuinely helping people, all while fulfilling his dreams of venturing the universe. Plus? The money didn't hurt either.

He enjoyed this life.

Although in recent, more tumultuous times, these privateer jobs grew to be more desperate and demanding. The simple delivery jobs turned into rescue missions, and the extra help needed on backwater planets turned into… Well…

"Our village is going to die like this," the human villager told Panthigeros. "The doctrine of these outsiders is plaguing us. It's *infecting* us."

Panthigeros knew all too well who these supposed outsiders were. One would run into great difficulty in searching for a place within Cassiopeia that *didn't* talk about the new threat that arose within the galactic neighborhood.

The Faceless.

"I will help," the Antumbrian man responded unwavered, without hesitation. He even smiled as a show of confidence. Reassurance. "Just tell me everything I need to know about these outsiders and I'll deal with ‘em."

And so the villager explained, telling Panthigeros all about how these masked outsiders arrived onto their planet, located far out within the Central Expanse, and began to corrupt its inhabitants without so much of a word on where they came from. He told the privateer about how the village has devolved into chaos in such a short time, and how all precepts of order and society have been rapidly diminishing the longer these outsiders remained on their soil. As an Antumbrian, Panthigeros towered over most humans by well over a foot, given his robust and broad build. The same could be said for the human man that stood before Panthigeros right at that time. It didn't help that the red sun of the farming planet was helping to cast the Antumbrian's enormous shadow over the villager who dwarfed in comparison. Although Panthigeros could sense a hint of intimidation coming from the villager because of this, the Antumbrian privateer tried his best to not seem as imposing. He was there to help, and he didn't bite.

At least not those who sought out his help. The ones who started trouble were the ones who should have worried.

The villager thanked him, wiping a sweat from his forehead that was tanned from the burning sun. He reached out his hand and was met with a firm handshake from Panthigeros. He almost thought he'd be crushed, but luckily the Antumbrian man knew his full size and strength very well.

"I'm Bumaro," the villager said. "What should I call you, sir?"

Panthigeros was never too fond of being referred to as ‘sir'. It felt way too official for the man, and he wasn't that official of a guy. All he was, in his mind, was some traveler who helped out wherever he could. While the praise and glory he felt after a mission *did* feel nice, he was never bound to it.

The Antumbrian man's skin was patterned entirely in dark stripes, uncommon amongst his people. This physical quality, along with his fierceness and determination, earned him a rather apt nickname that he preferred to go by over his given name.

"Tiger," he responded. "You can call me Tiger."

And he grinned with unflinching confidence.

The village tavern was transformed into some kind of makeshift temple. Getting into the village and into the building was easy enough for Tiger. The streets were unsettlingly empty and those who *were* out and about moved out of his way once his shadow casted over them. Figuring out this Faceless problem was going to be the hard part. And Tiger knew that.

He knew that as soon as he saw dozens of villagers on their knees, deep in prayer as their heads faced downwards to the dirtied floor. Tiger could tell they were villagers from their clothing, matching to what he saw worn by Bumaro just before he entered the settlement. He could also tell that the Faceless influence had already spread to every single villager in the room. Each and every villager in the tavern wore masks, all personalized to the individual yet struck an eerie sense of unity. The masks were what the Faceless were known for, Tiger was certain. Whispers sung from the mouths of all inside the tavern—all except Tiger—coming together to form a disturbing cacophony of voices that swarmed around the Antumbrian like a cold embrace.

And yet, no one paid any mind to him, it seemed. As Tiger scanned the room, taking in the tables that had been tipped over or broken and the plates that had been shattered or strewn about, he noticed that because everyone was so deeply into their prayers, no one had realized he entered the building. Or perhaps they *did* acknowledge him, only in silence, and simply decided that the large and striped stranger was not worth breaking their attention away from… Whatever was happening. Tiger also considered this possibility.

Needless to say, Tiger was rather taken aback by the whole ordeal. And a little weirded out, to put it bluntly. While he had heard endless talks about the Faceless and their anarchistic influence throughout more than enough star systems, he never had the opportunity to witness an actual meeting held by the group's followers. Not until today, that is.

But he was here to *stop* the Faceless, not just to observe them. Tiger didn't wait to try shaking the villagers out of their trances. Through physical means, even. Although as much as he shook the shoulder of one masked farmer, the man just wouldn't budge. This was tricky. How could he help these people if they were completely unresponsive to him, even on a physical level?

"You mustn't interrupt their evensong," a voice called out from Tiger's left.

The Antumbrian quickly turned towards the direction of this oddly polite-sounding comment. He was greeted by another masked man, only clearly distinct from the other villagers in terms of how he presented himself. He donned dark clothing that blended in with the shadows of the dimly-lit room, dressed as if he were an assassin for hire. His mask, while not overly ornate or detailed like his clothes, resembled the faces of the antlered beasts found on Neschast'ye, the tundra moon of Luminetela. This man of the Faceless faith had his hands put together and stood upright, completely facing Tiger and giving him all of his attention.

"Unless you wished to partake in the prayers?" asked the antler-masked man.

Tiger didn't have the patience for feigned courtesies. He could sense the smile on the man's face from his words and tone alone.

"I'm not here to pray."

"Then surely you've made your presence here for *some* purpose. You don't appear to be one of the villagers."

"I came here to deal with you."

The follower of the Faceless paused for just a moment. None of the villagers in the room paid the two gentlemen any mind, just as they did when Tiger first entered the ruined tavern. Even so, whoever this antler-masked man was (Tiger didn't bother asking for a name), for whatever reason, still tried to sway the striped Antumbrian man into joining the faith.

"Do you not hear it? The Song that He whispers into all of our hearts?"

*"What?"*

"His song, dear traveler. His voice stretches across all strands of the galaxy, from the core to the deepest reaches of the expanse."

"I hear no song. Only the whispers of these people that you've twisted."

"If the song does not reach you, then I'm afraid you'll hear nothing else."

It was then that Tiger assumed that all pretenses of respect were thrown out the window once the Faceless man revealed a black rapier held in a gloved hand, seemingly out of thin air. The weapon must've been cursed, Tiger figured, given all of the black and green sparks that emanated from its thin yet deadly-looking blade. The magic being used to power this man's weapon was so vile that even Tiger, who did not wield the magic arts for himself, could feel its chilling and almost nauseating presence. Whatever conversation there was now ceased to exist.

Tiger cracked his knuckles and took several steps forward.

He hoped that this would be quick.

Bumaro stood outside the confines of his village in excruciating anticipation. The privateer he hired to help revive his home to its former state did not ask for much in the way of rewards. But then thoughts ran all throughout his mind. What if that was because this Tiger fellow was so embarrassingly bad at his duties that, by chance he *did* score a job, he desperately took any reward he could get his hands on? Bumaro very much hoped that wasn't the case. Perhaps he was overthinking it.

No… He *definitely* was overthinking it.

As the red sun of his home planet began to enter its routine slumber beneath the grassy horizon, Bumaro began to hear the humming of starships from within the village. In the same instance, he saw these familiar starships take flight, soaring far out into the upper levels of his homeworld's atmosphere until they matched the stars in the dimming sky. Those ships belonged to the outsiders that he hired the privateer to stop. Bumaro began to think he didn't have enough faith in Tiger. It looks like he accomplished the task just fine.

When the ships fully disappeared into the sky, Bumaro could make out a large figure emerging from the inside of the village. This silhouette was clearly making his way towards Bumaro, and the closer he got, the more the villager recognized this as the man he hired, holding something in his hand.

Whatever it was, Tiger casually passed the object onto Bumaro, who held it in his hands in surprise. It was a white mask, antlered and resembling a creature that he himself did not recognize. Bumaro stared up at the Antumbrian, almost unable to muster the right words.

"I… Thank you..! But how did you do it? What happened?"

"Well…" Tiger began, scratching his chin as he retraced the steps of his memory. "I bumped into who I assumed was the head honcho, he got out a weapon, and I dealt with it."

"You dealt with it?"

"Yep. There's his mask, right there in your hands."

Tiger recalled the moment he subdued the antler-masked man into unconsciousness. When the mask fell off, all that was revealed was the rather ordinary-looking man underneath. Human, even. Tiger wondered, in that instant, how the Faceless managed to garner so many followers, if not just through sheer corruption and twisted magic.

"How did you deal with it?" Bumaro nervously yet curiously inquired.

"I roughed ‘em up a bit and then roughed some others up when they tried to rough *me* up."

Bumaro gulped.

"Oh, don't worry," Tiger chuckled. "It wasn't any of the villagers, just more of those outsiders you were worried about. They got cold feet after… I wanna say the *fifth* guy I knocked out?"

Tiger genuinely seemed unsure.

"But yeah, after that, the rest of ‘em hopped back onto their ships and left the planet."

"Sounds like it was rather messy," Bumaro said, both in relief and near disbelief.

"That's how I do things," Tiger smirked. He looked proud.

"Oh!" Bumaro remembered. He graciously handed over a decorative cloth, folded and tied onto itself to hold what smelled like spicy foodstuffs inside. "Here's your payment sir, as requested."

Tiger's face lit up as he happily took the cloth into his hands.

"Thank you!" Tiger said, not waiting to toss one of the tiny foods into his mouth. "I actually haven't had dinner yet, so I really appreciate this."

"You're very welcome," Bumaro laughed, almost taken aback. Suppose the privateer was fine with being paid in food, or delighted even. "But I wish I could thank you more for what you've done here. Jeehan is a small world, so we wouldn't have been able to deal with the cult without outside help."

Bumaro sighed.

"I should've asked earlier. Are the villagers alright? The ones who fell into the faith, I mean?"

"They're doing fine, all things considered." Tiger managed to reassure Bumaro, at least to an extent. He popped another puff of spiced and breaded meat into his mouth, and munched away as he continued to speak.

"I think whatever the Faceless did to your village put them all in a weird trance. Not sure what it was, exactly. But now that they're gone, the villagers are coming back to their senses. ‘Least that's what it looked like to me."

*"The Faceless…"* Bumaro repeated the name quietly. "Are they big in the wider galaxy?"

"So they say."

"That must mean they're pretty powerful too."

Tiger scoffed.

"Could've fooled me, from what I had to deal with just now."

Bumaro seemed surprised. Tiger made it sound so easy. What plagued his village so quickly was put to a complete stop by a single man, just as fast. Bumaro thought there must've been something special about this man.

"Then… You must be stronger than them! Do you plan to keep opposing them?"

The Faceless. Some cult hellbent on bringing down the institutions of order throughout the galaxy, all while preaching their beliefs in… *Someone.* Tiger still wasn't sure who or what, or if they were even real—and as far as he was concerned, they *weren't*. But from what he went through back in the village, he knew that their followers were *fallible*. They could be fought and dealt with rather easily, with enough willpower and devotion. Tiger had that willpower.

Perhaps he would continue that fight beyond this planet.

"I think I will," Tiger told him, with the stripes across his body darkening with the red sun.

And he grinned, once again, with that same unflinching confidence.

## Appearances

### Dramatis Personae

* **Tiger** - Antumbrian. Privateer, hero of the story.
* **Bumaro Frel** - Human. The villager who called to the hero for help.
* **Cervin Caris** - Human. Devout Faceless follower with an antlered mask.
* **He** - Entity unknown. He who whispers into the hearts of the Faceless. (Mentioned only)

### Locations

* Cassiopeia Galaxy
	+ Central Expanse
		- Jeehan
		- Umbran Space (Mentioned only)
			* Antumbria (Mentioned only)
		- Etelan Worlds (Mentioned only)
			* Luminetela (Mentioned only)
				+ Neschast'ye (Mentioned only)

### Sentient Species

* Antumbrian
* Human