Forum Thread

With a gasp that sounded alien to him, Yyng woke, and found himself laying on a cold slab, sending painful waves throughout his body - no, this wasn't his body, he reckoned. A dream, perhaps? Though it hurt tremendously to do so, he was able to look around, to better understand his surroundings. Flicking open his eyes - which felt unusually heavy - he saw only the ceiling, on which hung a faded yellow bulb, casting miniscule amounts of light across the room. He turned his head to the right - nothing but a small, unhygienic-looking sink - to his left, a simple, uncomfortable bed, at the foot of which stood a heavy, immovable door.
It was at this moment that he decided to look at himself, which was unfortunately hard to do, due to the roaring pain in his neck.
Knee-high white boots covered his feet, the left of which had a weight tied around the ankle, to prevent him from escaping, he supposed. His trousers were black cotton, comfortable to wear, rather baggy - something he would never allow. A blue belt supported them, which also held a black sheath; a holding place for some sort of katana, by the looks of it. The rest of his torso was covered by a grey long-sleeved shirt, and white, hard gloves with black fabric fingers to cover his hands. Black supports formed an 'X' over his torso, most likely keeping some sort of shoulder armour in place. Nothing about this worried him, yet; perhaps his captors had simply changed his clothes.
Another wave of pain stunned him, and also made him notice where the center of the burning, boiling sensation was - his face. He lifted a hand to touch it, only for his hand to meet some sort of hard, cold metal. Moving his hand upwards, he found a hole for both eyes, two, smaller holes below, and another two small holes above. The mask was horribly misshapen, as if it had endured centuries of battle. He slid his hand to the side of it, attempting to take it off. As he did, though, it set his face aflame with pain, making him pause yet again. He pulled harder, and realised that it felt as if he was pulling his face off - which gave him free access to the truth.
He denied it, though, continuing to tug and shove and rip, but it simply wouldn't budge.
He released his full force on it, quite mad - a mask should not be able to triumph over Yyng Turrni.
And, as he used his final strength against his own face, he let out a pained, blood-curdling, ear-exploding scream, before giving up and simply laying there.
If he'd had tears left to fall, they would have.