RP:Frustration

Tyler moves quietly through the town in the trees. The human looking quite like something out of a cartoon or a comic with his over sized gloves, boots, cargo shorts, fur-lined sleeveless vest and obnoxiously blue hair. The man's posture erect as his left palm rests upon the katana's hilt that is fastened so neatly to his side. Most people tend to have a destination, an errand, a meeting, a goal or a purpose. Tyler is not one of these people. Recently returning to civilization after a long hiatus from the chaotic world of Hollow the man has come back only to find any ties to friends or otherwise long since severed and once again walks alone in the world. His snug little hammock in the trees had been pillaged by some vandals, likely the drow kin that patrol the Sage but alas it was no huge loss to the man. He had no home. But he had money. He had no friends. But, he had money. He had nothing to do. But... he had money. So now, the man of wealth simply wanders aimlessly looking for something, hell anything of interest to occupy his tired mind.

Krice didn't particularly look like a man of wealth either, but he certainly didn't carry himself like some peasant or beggar. He walked with an air of respectful pride, not arrogant or obnoxious - simply silent in his self-confidence that he could hold his own, that he could wield the highly-crafted katana sheathed at his right hip. The silver-haired man ventured in from the west, his pace unhurried, and moved east through Kelay, offering only a passing glance across the face of the other katana owner.

Tyler is a lot like Krice in terms of ignoring those of little interest. However, Krice isn't one such person. As the duo cross paths Tyler would not long after come to a halt with his eyebrow arched in interest. Caramel eyes flicker from the back of Krice's head down to the Katana he holds, somewhat similar to Tyler's own though clearly of a much higher quality. As he moves his gaze to settle on his own blade the human's lips coil into a mischievous smile as he fixes his glance to Krice once more. Raising his right hand with a palm aimed to the sky a flicker of light would conjure followed by some tiny embers that would lead to a small orb of fire levitating above the man's appendage. Pulling back he hurls the ball with all of his might, aiming to strike Krice in the lower back. The blow wasn't meant to harm the passerby, simply gain his attention and perhaps provoke some aggression. Of course, if Krice knew Tyler's magic was simply that of illusion then the fire would merely fizzle without so much as a tickle. Either way, by the time Krice would turn back he would find Tyler standing with his boots planted firmly in the ground and his katana gripped tightly in both hands, the look given to Krice demanding the man to draw his own blade.

Krice didn't seem remotely aware of Tyler and his antics, nor did he seem to react to the light that reflected in the sky. Whether or not he saw it was a non-issue, for he did not show any knowledge of the illusion, or even that it was an illusion at all. However, right after that fireball hit his back, he halted and turned to look at the other man past his left shoulder, reacting to the impact of -something-. Had he felt it, then? People dispersed, some simply walking briskly. Other people didn't witness the illusion at all, for they had not yet arrived when it took place, so they walked through Kelay without fear or concern. Krice spoke to Tyler with a casual, " Not in the mood."

Tyler isn't phased by Krice's response. The human had already made up his mind, he was going to fight this man and it was going to happen. Now. But of course, what fun is there in fighting someone who isn't going to fight back? Tyler tends to be a good judge of character, or so he thinks he is. Judging by the looks of Krice, he figures he isn't one of those that enjoy mindless slaughter and hellfire. The smirk widens as a woman appears to be walking by Krice. Freeing one hand from the hilt of his blade, Tyler takes hold of a kunai resting on his belt and quickly flings toward the civilian. The blade makes contact and pierces the woman's throat. She tries to scream though only the gargled sound of blood can be heard as tears begin gliding down his face and she anxiously attempts to rip the tossed weapon from it's hold only to fall face first into the dirt. The crimson pool pouring from the corpse staining the dirt of the way a nice brown. Tyler's hand finds the hilt again and he assumes his battle stance again. Caramel hues staring down Krice before shifting to acknowledge another on-looker, this one stunned in fear from the sudden murder in the streets. It's a warning. Fight, or watch another die.

Krice was closer to the woman, and thus, had time to react to the thrown kunai. Perhaps it would surprise Tyler that he was able to catch it by the blade before it sliced through the woman's throat, a swift flick of his right hand obscuring the woman's view as his long, adept fingers curled around the handle. The point nicked her throat and she gasped in surprise at the scene, sending a wide-eyed look Krice's way. He pulled the knife clear of her, lowering it to his side, and a few quiet words were shared between them - with Krice locking his eyes on Tyler - before the woman ran away screaming, in the opposite direction to where she was walking - retreating behind Krice to the east.

Tyler isn't amused at Krice's 'heroics'. The opposing human suddenly feeling more than just a bit of fun competition to be had. Within a mere twenty seconds Krice has become a rival, and Tyler -hates- rivals. Eyes narrow, not only in defiance but to mask the mana rushing through them as Tyler swiftly prepares the next illusion. He's moving. As the human begins sprinting towards his foe, doppelgangers would peel out of his skin to form a trio of the funny looking man. The three of them moving in and out in an attempt to confuse their target. As the distance come to a close the trio leap into action. The right Tyler takes to the a leap, adding in a spiraled twirl aiming to bring his blade down onto Krice's shoulder, the center is much more direct with a full-forced lunge attempting to pierce the man's torso and the left (the real Tyler) has dropped to the dirt in a well timed slide, his blade seeking to slice out the white haired man's heels sending him to the ground in pain.

Krice took note of Tyler's body language, of his apparent tri-split, and regarded the trick not with surprise or shock - but with a certain level of familiarity. He had seen another do something similar, months ago. With Kelay's inhabitants running around for escape routes, there was chaos on the street. Tyler would be forgiven for thinking that he was slicing at Krice's ankles, for he must have thought that Krice was right there, in the target location. However, the warrior was not. Had he made his exit among the throngs of panicked residents?

Tyler bellows out a growl as he finds Krice has somehow escaped. The trio suddenly morphs back into one single man laying in the way. With a scowl upon his visage he spits to the side before muttering, "Coward..." Of course, Tyler would be happy to remember the face.