RP:The Death of Tyler

Hildegarde , upon reading a rather mysterious note left near her bed, she had left Frostmaw and made for the town of Kelay. Indeed, the knight had checked in with the tavern to see if the blue-haired man might be there, but he wasn’t. Instead, she was directed to the east and wandered out that way; checking high and low for the man. She didn’t know where he might be so she hoped to stumble across him as she wandered. “Tyler?” she called every so often, trying to find him.

Tyler sits atop of a heavy tree branch near the base of a might oak. His back is pressed against the bark and his attention set upon the ripe red apple gripped tightly in his hand. Pulling the fruit to his mouth he takes a satisfying crunch and hums to himself in delight at the flavor. However, his enjoyment is destined to be short lived as he hears his name being called. His eyes widen in surprise, he tosses the apple into the forest and glances around the back of the tree to spot Hildegarde quickly approaching. He forces the bite of fruit down his throat before sliding off of the branch and onto the floor before stepping out into the way. He looks onto Hildegarde with a knowing stare, but says nothing. It isn't clear of his intentions but knowing the man points to two high possibilities, fight or flight.

Hildegarde ’s face has gradually developed a frown as she continues to search for the man, occasionally stooping to check in a bush or craning her head upwards to check higher tree branches. But she cannot see him. Perhaps he is hiding or simply isn’t here. “Tyler!” she called, “I want to talk to you about…” about the dream? The note? “I want to talk to you!” she called out in the fading hope he’d be around. With a sigh, the knight came to a halt and glanced around; nostrils flaring as she inhaled deeply and even noisily in an effort to distinguish his scent from the area. “Tyler, I know you’re here!”

Tyler offers a slight flinch as Hildegarde calls out to him. Once again luck seems to be on the knights side as her wish is granted, the human steps forward and is a mere four feet from Hildegarde's position. He still says nothing but stare in her direction. His eyes casting up and down to take in her attire as he searches for any signs of threat. If she's keen, she'd spot him glancing to the wooded area to his right once, an escape route if things fall sour. Then it's there again. The confusing stare that leaves one with feelings of fear, anger and desperation to know what the man would do next. Though he says nothing, his statement is clear. Speak.

Hildegarde is dressed as she is always dressed: wearing mithril armour with her usual short-sword belted to her hip and her halberd in hand. These things rarely left her, indeed, they usually remained with her when she slept. Her fingers were curled around her halberd, but they were not tight with anger or anything to denote a particular intent to use the weapon. But as he glances, so too does she, allowing her gaze to meet with his once again but more slowly; so he is well aware that she is aware of his intended escape route should things go sour. “It wasn’t even that long ago since I last saw you,” she said softly, “and here you are, running away from me again. All the while telling me that you are avoiding hurting me or that you ‘cannot bear’ to hurt me, yet you seem to manage it quite well.” It is evident that the knight is hurt, that she is being utterly honest with him and unable to baby him at this point. She cannot even soften the truth.

Tyler remains motionless as he stares like a lost animal at Hildegarde. If his heart wasn't beating so hard against his chest, one might mistake him for a statue. His breathing is becoming shallow and rapid as his eyes bounce around between Hildegarde and her weapon. The silence is soon broken by a simple question that offers no answers, "Why are you here?", his voice is quick and quiet. Though it's easy to read through the lines, his real question is if Hildegarde has come to kill him. His hands shaking and it becomes apparent that his right has moved significantly closer to the katana that stretches off of his hip.

Hildegarde was well aware of the hand that inched ever closer to the katana just off of his hip, but if she was concerned about it, she didn’t say. “To see you,” she said, “to talk to you, why else?” she frowned. Then she looked him over, “I had a strange dream and then saw your note, so I assume it can only be your doing. You show me such things and then act as though I am going to crush you,” she said, obviously stung by it. “Have you…” she says more quietly; suddenly full of hesitation, “have you strayed from the path?”

Tyler hesitates as Hildegarde's words are processed through his mind, the human seeming to calm down for a moment before shaking his head and straightening his back so that he may stand defiantly before Hildegarde. "Those that seek to take the freedom of man must be punished. The corrupt must taste their own doing and drown in the sin that lets them thrive. Only those that have lived the life of sin may bring judgement to those that still do. There is no black of white here Hildegarde of Frostmaw. The world has been smudged into a bleak shade of gray and there is no path. I've strayed from nothing. My damnation has been sealed but shall I sit idle while others fall into the same? Shall I do nothing while people have their freedom taken from them, shall I listen to the cries of the abused and the laughter of the wicked." His hand clutches the Katana and rips it from it's hold, the sound of the sharp steel leaving it's holster echoing through the way as Tyler holds the sword down by his side. "You had your chance to see your happy ending and you let it fall through your grasp. I know this hurts, trust me, pain is exactly my expertise. I do not want to hurt you, I never meant too, but you are right to find hypocrisy in my words. I am who I am, Hildegarde. If you don't like it, then you are free to do whatever you wish." Twirling the blade around full circle, the human then lowers it into a defensive position before him. "The corrupt will die. I will set them free from their sin. You may try to do the same for me if you see fit, or you may turn and leave. I will not strike you first, Hildegarde. But once you make the first move, I won't hold back." Tyler's tone isn't one of dedication, pride or malice. It holds a tune of defeat and defiance. He doesn't like his choice, but his mind is made. The knight is left to strike or walk away. The time for talk is over.

Hildegarde listened to all her had to say, her face contorting into one of evident disgust. “It is wrong to take the lives of those who are purely greedy or who you deem to be corrupt without the proper conviction of a trial!” The knight shook her head, “You are no better than a religious zealot: judging people to be infidels from what you consider your true view of the world. How long before I too am an infidel and must be put to your sword, Tyler? How long? How long until you deem Frostmaw to be full of infidels and in need of cleansing?” The Silver shook her head again, “You walk a dangerous path; you walk a path that is so corrupt that even you cannot see it.” She straightens her posture, “I am not of Frostmaw. I am Xalious born. I serve Frostmaw, but I am Xalious born,” she assured her quietly. “I shall not make the first move, Tyler,” she said, but she would obviously not walk away either. Indeed, throughout their entire conversation, the knight had begun to pace, moving so she could block his intended escape route. He would either have to ask to leave or he would have to strike her.

Tyler's entire demeanor changes as a grin spreads across his complexion as she convicts him of being a zealot. "The law is a flawed system. Yet you honestly believe I would take the lives of those who might be innocent? You think I'm that diluted!? I make damn sure my targets are convicted of their crimes through my own system. One that actually works!" 'My Targets', the phrase reveals that Tyler is already active in his crusade against the governments of Hollow. His pace has matched Hildegarde's now. "You claim me to be no better than some religious freak like those boasting about the metropolis as we speak. But you could never be more wrong my dear, Hildegarde. That's the difference between you and I... I don't believe in the gods." It's only a matter of seconds before Tyler has multiplied his fighting force. Four forms of the human peel from his flesh to stand on either side until five katana wielding illusionists stand before Hildegarde. The knight knows Tyler's magic is just smoke and mirrors, and thus the blades of his clones would bring her no harm. However, the issue would be to find the right man to slay. As he speaks, all five voices ring out in unison. "You leave me no choice, Hildegarde. I tried to let you walk away. I wanted to let you live out your life with me forever out of your mind. You should have listened to the dream. You should have left me to die in that storm." The forms all begins twirling the blades around and circling around one another. "Now, you will live to regret that choice." They're sprinting at her, weaving in and out of one another in an attempt to mask the true form. Once they reach an acceptable distance all five figures leap into action. Two take to the sky with heavy arcs to come down on both sides of Hildegarde's neck, two slide to the dirt with the back of her armor that contains any pinpoints in sight and the fifth is in a straight lunge, his blade aimed directly for her neck.

Hildegarde is obviously in complete disagreement with Tyler and his opinion on the matter: “Killing is always wrong, Tyler, always wrong. You should never jump so readily to kill another living being, it is not something one should easily live with. If you can easily live with taking another person’s life, then you should not have the power to do it,” she told him firmly and with a sense of icy calm. Yet the man has sealed his fate and made up his mind by replicating himself four times, giving the knight of Frostmaw five versions of him to battle; her only indication of readiness for battle being the small way she rolls her shoulders in preparation. “There is always a choice,” she told him with a soft yet terribly sad smile. As all five versions of Tyler leap into action, the knight’s halberd jerks upright and into a defensive stance: both hands gripping the shaft of the weapon with readiness. Indeed, as two take to the air to strike from above and two diverge to the side to flank her, that leaves one from straight on. The knight didn’t think Tyler as one to be quite so direct, but if she forgets herself for even a moment, the clones and the real one could harm her just the same. So she must eliminate every clone in an effort to protect herself. The Silver inhales to ready herself, twisting her body with the grace of a dancer to swing the halberd in a wide and protective circular arc: aiming to wipe out the two flanking her sides and the directly oncoming assault should it get too close to her. But the knight would not be alive for so long if she had left it just there, no, she stoops low to sweep the halberd for any legs: be the real or fake, before rolling to the side to avoid the oncoming aerial assault. Shooting up to her feet again, the knight aggressively blasts a mixture of frost and the potent paralytic gas that was inherent to her species.

Tyler shouts in pain as Hildegarde's halberd slices into his leg, the force of the attack rolling him off to the side. He had been the form attack from the lower right, his two allies shattering like glass as Hildegarde makes contact. Her roll is swift and Tyler has little time to stand before she's already eradicated his opposing forms. He curses his choice of attire as the cargo shorts had done little to protect his lower leg, despite the wound not being very deep blood is flowing out at a heavy rate and tears are pouring from his eyes though he doesn't cry out. Instead he readies his blade again and stares at Hildegarde, a look of hatred forming in his eyes as his nostrils flare. "Death is a gift! It is better to leave a life of evil than to be bound in chains and forced to live the live of a criminal slave. It is the salvation that all men, evil or not deserve. Someone must dish it out to them! Someone must sacrifice their own happiness to ensure others can live in their own." He grits his teeth as his next transformation occurs. The bloody eyed Tyler is quick to take his place, hiding the wound on his leg. Tyler doesn't want Hildegarde to see him hurt, he doesn't want her to take it easy on him. When his mouth opens, his lower jaw drops to his stomach and a ear piercing banshee screech is released sending a concussive blast toward the knight. No matter what defense should would use against the blast, when she would move to ready herself she would find the world complete darkness much like the dream from the night before. In the shadows Tyler has already circled around Hildegarde and replaced his katana with a plethora of kunai, he begins sprinting in a circle around her tossing the blades in her direction aiming for none lethal pinpoints. He hopes the concussive blast would deafen her leaving his footsteps silent.

Hildegarde , unlike Tyler, was not one for big and grand speeches about her plans or what she would like to do. Indeed, as Tyler begins to espouse what it is that should be done or what his grand plan is for the world, the knight merely charges at him and throws her body against his to pummel him down onto the ground and pin him with her sheer weight. Not that he’d ever know before, but Hildegarde was heavier than her appearance implied: the weight of her armour alone was something to contend with. Before his jaw could even begin to distend, the knight raises her fist and throws it back down with force towards his face. “Shut up!” she roared at him with a fury that had been unseen before. Indeed, rather than strike him – or attempt to strike him again – the knight now settles her clawed gauntlet on his throat. An uncomfortable experience for a magic user, to be sure, as the gauntlet negated magic of all kinds. Certainly, the knight could not use it for extended periods of time, as it would then begin to unwind the very fabric of her being, but she could use it for short periods of time to bestill and becalm an opponent. “Tyler! Shut up and listen to me!” she hissed, “Either give up this path now – and swear it – or I will End you!” she said, her fingers flexing and allowing the burning sensation of the arcana negating gauntlet to press all the more against his flesh. “Make your choice so I can make mine.”

Tyler is taken off guard by Hildegarde's sudden rush and soon finds himself at her mercy once more. The frail humans bones popping beneath the weight of the knight and her heavy armor. The gauntlet has forced his true appearance and the man stares at her with tear filled eyes. Her words piercing his ears as he shakes violently beneath her. His teeth chattering violently and when his lips part, Hide finds blood falling down the side of his face, his teeth had pierced the inside of his mouth badly. "One that... finds such ease in killing... Shouldn't have the right." His smile is back accompanied by blood stained teeth as he struggles to breath. His eyes fall shut for a moment before he speaks again. "Do it." His rasp voice distorted by the fluids in his throat. "If... If I cannot fulfill my purpose here... then there is nothing left. I lost my family. I lost Skylei. I lost you." He tries to laugh but all that emits is a wheeze as he allows his head to fall back and his breathing slows, a final phrase being spoken before allowing Hildegarde to finish her intended deed. "Do it."

Hildegarde stared at Tyler, now able to see his true appearance. He was already hurt just by attempting to hurt her. Pridak didn’t look the same when they fought, Pridak had the cold and cool conviction of a true killer; someone who was going to cause more harm if they were permitted to live any longer. That was the first person Hildegarde had ever killed, a face she could never forget. Not that she had forgotten the face of anyone she had ever killed. And now he was attempting to twist her own words against her which actually made her smile: “I never find it easy,” she told him softly, “I never… never forget it, forget a face or the moment, Tyler, so don’t you dare say a thing to me… don’t dare,” she warned him, releasing her grasp upon his throat. With a shake of her head, the knight softly blows against his face, but it is no ordinary breath: the paralytic breath that is common to her species. “You won’t feel it,” she assured him, waiting for the effects of the breath to kick in before she rose up to her feet. With a sigh, the knight stepped over to the top of his head, sitting down on the ground before bundling him up in her arms and dragging him forward so he would sit resting against her armoured chest: limp and unable to move. “I’ve… I’ve wanted to die before,” she confessed to him, as she set a hand lightly on his shoulder and another to his head; gently stroking his hair as if to soothe him. “So many times I tried, but I couldn’t… couldn’t bring myself to finish the deed. Or someone would bring me back on the field,” she said ever so softly. “There is a sort of peace in death, Tyler. And you were too open a soul for this world. You… You were so open that you let all the corruption in your heart because you were trying to let all the good in it too, I know that,” she told him and herself, as if to try and convince herself that was why he had acted as he did. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, as her hand came to a stop and twisted; effectively breaking his neck.

Tyler is staring at Hildegarde. The hatred had long since faded from his eyes. Once he sees her smile and she readies to move he breathes a breath of relief. The man put at ease as he begins to think Hildegarde is ready to let him go once again. His mind is calm now and he readies himself to speak to Hildegarde, to voice an apology and cry to her for help. He plans to inform her that perhaps she's right, though he could never find the truth alone. He would ask her for help, to let him come back to Frostmaw with her and learn her own ways. However, the man would never get the chance. Just as his bloodied lips part, Hildegarde breaths upon him and then picks herself up. He's stunned and his mind begins to race rampant with thoughts. He tries to scream to her, to beg her to wait and hear him out but he can't move. The only visible sign of distress are the tears falling from his eyes as he feels helpless as he becomes unable to move his limbs. Her words foreshadow his own fate and the man does something he's never done, he prays, he cries out to the gods to all of them in hopes that any would intervene and stop Hildegarde from ending his life. But what is a god to a non-believer? No help comes for the man. He has no family or friends that might be concerned of his well-being, no one who notices him missing from his small hammock in the Sage forest. Then, Hildegarde makes her move. The popping of his bones is sickening to those with weak guts. He gasps for air and the tears continue to race. Hildegards words should have brought him to a calm, they should have allowed him to slip into deaths embrace with some dignity or peace but they do no such thing. Tyler dies with regret and remorse in his heart and head. His life flashes before him as the lack of oxygen begins to starve his brain. It's odd, how the thoughts of his crusade never cross his mind in this time. Rather the only being that stands out amongst his time in Hollow is the wood elf that had claimed his heart. The what if's and the never will's plague him until the tears finally stop as well as his breathing. Tyler had lived an unfulfilled life, dedicated to trying to impress those around him. He suffered from sin just like everyone else. When he had placed a new soul in his body, he found that loneliness would be his breaking point. Despite Hildegarde's will, Tyler felt more anguish than any physical pain could ever bring. He did not die a peaceful death. But after all, would his story have ever allowed it any other way?

Hildegarde would probably have struggled to have believed it. Maybe that’s why she had chosen to use her paralytic breath in order to silence any of his protests, because she knew she’d need the strength to do it. As he struggled to breathe in his death throes, the knight held him close; thankful he’d be unable to see her own tears that freely fell and obscured her already limited vision. “Oh Tyler,” she said so softly, “I’m so sorry,” she continued, “so very sorry.” When the illusionist ceased to breathe and his heart beat its last, the knight tugged him closer to her with strength, bone-crushing strength that she couldn’t really regulate when so upset. She sobbed into the back of his head, sobbing her apologies and her regrets until she calmed enough to whisper quietly to his dead body, “I send you to your End, Tyler, bound to carry your soul until I reach my own End as is only right. Your burden is mine now,” she informed him, before scooping him up into her arms and rising to her feet. Where could she take his body to be dealt with? The healer of Kelay? The funeral parlour of Cenril? She didn’t know.