Tiger skull helm

Titles

Tiger skull helm (Male)

Tiger skull helm (Female)

Origin

Few may remember the old mine south of Buya in the wilderness. It was once a bustling employer of dozens of citizens. Most of the land's ore was mined there. But tragedy always seems to hit the most prosperous areas first. Alas, it was the last of its kind, all mining after it has been surfacing mining. The mine had been closed when a tremor had made many of the shafts unstable and released pockets of poisonous gases. After the miners cleared out, the wildlife surrounding the mine began to wander into its depths. Tigers and bears and rodents wound their way to the deepest of the shafts, some dying from pitfalls, others from poison, and yet others surviving against all odds, procreating in dank shadowy corners.

Upon hearing this I naturally went to investigate, being the curious teen I was at the time. I gathered up my club and rope and torch and trekked my way to the opening. It was a windy night, and sheets of rain slashed down diagonally from the heavens, bending trees to their will. I was glad to be out of the weather, I leaned against the mine's entrance wall and breathed slowly. I was claustrophobic. Gathering my courage I made my way down the shaft to the main mining area, once called 'The dig'. I had convinced an old miner to draw me a map from memory before I left, but it had done little good. The miner was old, and forgetful, and years of shifting earth and erosion had turned the mine into one big maze. An Iron Labyrinth.

I was not worried about the gases, the many yuris that had passed allowed it all to escape harmlessly into the skies. I was however, worried about the pitfalls and hidden shafts. As a precaution I tied a security rope around my waste and hooked it to my pack. In the case that I did fall, my pack would act as an anchor, allowing me to climb my way back up. The putrid smell of animal feces hung heavy in the stale, unventilated air. I etched arrows along the walls I walked, so as not to get lost.

I made my way to what I assumed to be the bottom of the mine, but I was wrong. Moving across the center of the path I encountered a fault in the shaft's floor, and was instantly swept down further than I suspected the mine was ever meant to go. Echoes ringing throughout the shafts. I hit the bottom with a sickening crack, my leg snapping like an old twig. Darkness enshrouded me.

My torch had been put out by the fall down and the humid air. I took out my flint and steel and lit up a new torch, surveying my new location. It was an oval shaped room, laden with treasure boxes. I heard a faint choking in the corner and tensed. Upon investigation I found a huddled withering old miner, the only survivor. I didn’t bother asking him how he was alive, I didn’t want to know. His face was hidden by layers of soot and astray whiskers. His body was contorted in a fetal position. I did, however, ask him what all the boxes were doing scattered on the ground.

He fabled the events leading the collapse of the mine in great detail, his body was decrepit, but his mind was crisp. He explained that inside the boxes were tools used by the miners. The boxes had slid down the shafts during the tremor. Unfortunately the keys to unlock the boxes had been lost as well, buried deep in the eroded sifts of 'The bottom' as the old miner called it.

One of the wood supports that held the room up had collapsed to the floor. I took two of the splinters from the support and set my broken leg. I was able to walk, but had to drag my leg behind me. Time passed quickly, as it does in dark places. One cannot discern night from day when everything is black. I awoke at my leisure, thinking only about how I was to escape from this place and whether or not I should try to convince the old miner to come with me.

A deep growl echoed through the room. I looked at my stomach and decided I needed food if I was to keep up enough strength to make it out of this forsaken place. I stood and stretched my good leg, walking in circles around the room. Nearing the opposite end of the circular room I noticed something, a door, or what appeared to be a door. Upon closer investigation I found it to be a stone slab tilted against the moldy wall of the room. I had not noticed it before because the slab itself was camouflaged in moss.

The miner was still asleep, huddled in the corner. I decided to explore the other side of the door. Propping my leg opposite the door and using my club as a levy I pried the door open. On the other side lay an eerie sound, padded feet prowling the ground. I put my torch to the darkness, revealing shifting muscle covered by matted fur. Entering the room with my torch in front of me further revealed an entire room of gigantic, hulking tigers, twice the size of a normal man.

Dozens of red and yellow eyes glared at me through the shadows, the padded footsteps had stopped. Muscles were tensed at the smell of prey. I dropped my torch and produced the club from my sleeve. The first tiger made its move, leaping at me, claws swiping. Bearing down on me with a weight well over ten hundred stone the splint on my leg snapped, shooting an agonizing pain through my body. The pain fed my rage as I grappled with the tiger, slamming its back against the wall and crushing its ribs with my club.

Growls emanated through the air and a set of claws gouged the flesh on my back. Blood flowed like water from my wounds, feeding the dry soil floor. I spun around, my club landing a blow to the tiger's skull. These tigers must be made of iron, for the blow not only liquefied the tiger's brain behind its impenetrable skull, but also shattered my club. Weaponless and badly wounded I limped backward to the stone door.

Reaching the opening where the slab had been, the massive tigers on my toes every step, I fell through the doorway. Scrambling to slide the slab in front of the parade of tigers the frame of the miner rose. He produced a strip of wrought iron and rolled it to my feet. Bumbling and whining he scooted to the back of the room and once again huddled in fear. Throwing all my weight on my good leg I leaned into the slab, every muscle in my body aching to close the opening, causing the gashes in my back to bleed more profusely than they had been.

The tigers began to pour through the door just as I tipped the slab over on its side. One tiger was crushed beneath its weight, its ribs piercing its heart as it sunk to the ground. There was still another tiger in the room with me however, and was circling the old miner, licking its chops. I stooped over and picked up the iron club and limped as quickly as I could to the flank of the tiger. Raising the club overhead I felt empowered, the life of an old man in my hands. With the resolve of a crusader I brought down the pipe with all the force anyone in that state could produce.

Iron met iron as the club rattled the tiger's hind quarters, drawing its attention to me. It reared up on its hind legs and sent a fury of blows to my chest. I managed to parry all but one, his claws ravaged my armor and met flesh, sinking in. Once again pain fueled my bloodlust. I retaliated with a fury of blows of my own, gaining ground and sending the tiger into a dazed stupor. Just when it seemed the gods favored me, the tiger checked me to the floor, head butting my gut and knocking the breathe from my lungs.

I can always remember the sound my only weapon made as it skirted across the floor. The sound of inevitability, the sound of death. Crawling backwards on my forearms I stared down the tiger, desperation filled me as my shredded back was dragged through the dirt. Hope shown through the darkness of death as my hand landed on a splinter of the support that still lay on the ground.

The tiger pounced just as I was able to produce the jagged piece of wood from under me. Muscles relaxed and eyes glazed over as the powerful beast sunk to the ground, its heart pierced. Drawing out the stake I greedily ate what little heart clung to it, I was starving. All my energy had been exerted and drinking the blood from the tiger gave me enough strength to chop off the head of the tiger.

I took the skull as a prize of my victory and expedition, a token of strength and ferociousness in battle. After it was properly treated the skull made the perfect helm, its hardness matched only by a diamond. I spent two more nights in the bottom with the miner, eating the tiger meat and regaining my strength, allowing my wounds to heal. The time came when I knew I must leave before the air, heavy with dust, choked me to death.

I skinned the carcass of the tiger, using its fur as a bandage for my back and chest. I fashioned gloves from the tiger's paws, the talons providing an excellent grappling tool for me to climb out of the bottom. The miner assured me he would rather eek out a meager existence there, than return to the harsh light of the upper world. I said my goodbye to the frail man and began my trek back up the crumbling shafts.

And now I stand before you today, many yuri later... My helm, a token of remembrance of old man, the tiger who provided it, and the mine from whence it came...

Barnibus