Thundering Poise

This mask is said to have been made by the mountain people for a Yaksha. It is of simple make, but its surface still shines brightly nonetheless.

Tianqiu once played host to a Yaksha, four-armed and mighty.
He came to The Chasm from afar, to the praises of the tribes.
A feast they put forth for him, the food in abundance.
Blade in hand, he entered The Chasm, a disaster to still.
Mighty as a demon, purple bale-fire shone in his eyes.
The lightning pierced the deathly shadow, and thunder dissolved the darkness.
The clouds hid the abyss, maw stretching to devour the firmament.
The wild wind howled, the cinnabar sweeping the darkness.
The mountain ranges shock, and the gorges caved in.
The depths cried out as they collapsed, and then all was silent.
The dense clouds solidified sundown-light as the perching birds sang sadly:
"Do you not hear? The drums die in the north wind, the hero sinks into the vortex."
"Have you not seen? The Yaksha's battle for the dawn — alas for a life so spent."