The silver mask was used by the lychan only in times of strife and utter desperation where near untrained and unskilled members of their pack would take it on themselves to retaliate against their people's aggressors. It was not uncommon for young members of the pack without the slightest trace of god blood in their veins to take up the mask against the wishes of their elders and die defending for their people. Soon the mask became the symbol of a doomed hero throughout history.

"She tried to kill me." Aiea says, kicking a dagger across her tent and away from the charred body. Rovis sighs slipping the silver face piece from the corpse.

"I knew they thought poorly of us... but this?" He sighs. "We've got to reconsider what we're doing here."

"I'm not going to reconsider survival over some nameless teenaged girl who threw her life because of something you did in a previous life." Aeia says, using her fingers to light one of her last cigarettes. "Besides, we're not going to die in this filthy jungle until we get our revenge."

Literally the first digital art piece I've ever finished since transitioning from paper and pencil, so it's not as neat as I would have hoped for it to be, but the sketchy look is intentional. You guys have any tips on how to improve?