They all remembered their hero. He held that special leaders' look on his mask—yet he was unsure if he would ever be a hero.
When assigned the task of leading his own group of heroes, he was shaky on the topic. Could he and his army of six—including himself—save their homeland from certain doom? It was a topic he thought of every night before going to sleep—every night before the visions started.
Through such visions could he see his homeland being destroyed, betrayed by its protector. Were these signs of madness? Or messages from the Great Spirit?
After being rewarded the burden of leadership, the hero was off on his first quest: to retrieve the great disc of his homeland. Such was the task of his whole team. Only by retrieving those discs could they be recognized as heroes. Keeping this thought in mind, he did everything he could to find his disc.
To start off his quest, the soon-to-be hero set off for his birthplace. He had been here so many times, it was hard for him to count anymore. A majority of his life had been spent in this hot area. Such heat calmed his mind. It was the heat one would expect to find from a furnace; yet it calmed him down nevertheless.
After spending so many years as a child and so many years as a mask-maker, he would return home. He was here for the unfamiliar within the familiar. Although he wasn't entirely sure he whether or not he should have taken these words to heart, he knew there was something within his humble abode he has missed.
Some say he is home today. But regardless of such, he was a hero of his days—followed by few and praised by many. But now nobody remembers his adventures. Nobody remembers the time he spent as a hero. And he couldn't be happier.