RP:The Feral Stranger
Tyler :: In the midst of an oncoming blizzard sits a lone figure, hunched over by the corpse of a wolf with it's hands dug deep into the body pulling out bits and pieces before stuffing it's mouth and gnawing at the bloodied meat. The creature wears an uncured wolf fur suit, complete with bile and all to keep warm in the insane condition. It pays no attention to those around it, figuring the area to be clear due to the storm.
Hildegarde had been searching for Skylei, having retired the Eyrie search party to save their strength and searching just by herself. The blizzard was ready to fall at any moment and it wasn’t the best of days to be out searching for someone, but she would persist for some time longer. She needed to try her best and seeing the lone figure made her step over quickly, “Excuse me?” she asked, hoping it’d be Skylei.
Tyler :: The creatures neck is quick to snap and offer a moments stare to Hildegarde from behind hollowed out eyes through the wolf's fur that so graciously decorates it's flesh. Blood drips from the now, clearly humans, face. Completely nude excluding the wolf-fur the human looks nearly dead. Bones are visable from all angles and his skin is a soft shade of blue. Spitting out a mouthful of guts the human jerks his hands from the corpse and quickly picks himself up before beginning to sprint away from the woman, almost loosing his footing on the ice multiple times leaving his ground to be easily caught.
Hildegarde stood her ground as the supposed creature turned to look at her, fingers flexing around the shaft of her halberd in a reflexive manner as she took a defensive stance. One could never be too careful, after all. Her eye is fixated solely on the head region, especially when she realises that the humanoid figure is… indecent! But then the man is sprinting away from her, compelling her to give chase, “Wait!” she cries. He was blue and obviously suffering from the chill. If he continued as he was, he’d freeze to death she was sure.
Tyler doesn't head the warning of the knight and continues his sprint in retreat. His bare foot snags a piece of ice and sends him into a faceplant onto the ice. A moment to groan is provided before his nail dig into the ice and he continues to pull himself away from her, his nose leading a fresh trail of blood to be mixed with the wolfs. Attempting to stand every few seconds he would only fall to his stomach once more.
Hildegarde sighed with frustration, slowing to a jog once the man faceplants onto the ice. She knows how difficult it can be to get up after falling on it, so she knows she has time to catch up to him. “I mean you no harm,” she explained, walking ever closer to him, “I’ll help you up, if you’ll let me.”
Tyler :: The creature begins to panic as Hildegarde draws closer. Jerking to roll over onto his back the wolf fur covering his helm falls to his neck revealing the mans tainted visage. Upon a blood covered face sets a pair of caramel colored hues staring with pure fear toward Hildegarde. They shift rapidly in an attempt to find an alternate escape route but fall back to the woman when none arises. His chest heaves heavily as blood continues to pour from his nose, down his chin, neck and bare chest. The freezing man shivers violently as he awaits the halberd to come in contact with his neck. Tyler is horrified of the knight.
Hildegarde raises her halberd up so she might thrust it down and into the ice, holding it in place to free up her hands and keep the polearm upright. The knight wandered closer, hands raised in the universal gesture of peace and calm; the sign she meant no harm. Those eyes, though, they seemed familiar. If only she could see the rest of his face – rather than the rest of him – she might know who he was. “I shan’t hurt you,” she said softly, “that you have my word on. I only want to help,” she promised, edging that bit closer.
Tyler is still shaking far to violently to make any real movements and he seems to process the womans voice for a moment. His eyes drop to the hand and his lips slowly part. "I didn't know this ground was taken. I'm sorry!" He shouts in her direction before kicking his legs into the ice, pushing himself further away from the woman. The ice blistering his bare skin as he slides.
Hildegarde recognised the voice, no matter how loud or fearful it might have been, she knew it. “Stop!” she commanded, “Tyler!” she frowned. “You’re going to hurt yourself even more,” she said worriedly, before adding quickly, “I am your friend. You…” she couldn’t say he was supposed to be dead, that’d be a bit odd or possibly threatening. “You need to let me help.”
Tyler slows his pace until finally coming to a halt. Those eyes of his bounce around like mad mice in his skull, scurrying from end to end as he calls out, "Who... How do you know my name?" He reaches to wipe the excess blood from beneath his nose. He tries to get to his knees but the endless shivering simply causes him to sit back down and whine.
Hildegarde slowly drops into a crouch, reaching towards her sword-belt to pluck a tissue free and hold it out to him, to wipe away the blood. “I am your friend,” she smiled reassuringly, “I am known as Hildegarde. It is my job to protect people,” she said, “and right now I’m trying to help you. You needn’t fear me,” she promised.
Tyler remains cautious. He swallows and before exhaling what appears to be the breath he's been holding for ages. A shaken hand finally reaches out to snatch the tissue from Hildegarde before attempting to apply it to his nose but it's no use. "I... I can't feel anything." He admits before tossing the tissue to the side and pulling his knees up to his chest, locking his arms around them.
Hildegarde nodded, “That does tend to happen when one runs around Frostmaw indecently,” she pointed out. “Look,” she said, hands moving to unclasp her cloak from her shoulders and held it out to him, “take this. Might make you a bit warmer,” she suggested. “We need to get you inside, soon. Food, drink and warmth will do you good.”
Tyler doesn't speak. Perhaps it's because he is still afraid, though far more likely that his body won't allow him. He reaches out to take the cloak. Allowing the bloodied wolf fur to fall he quickly wraps the cloak around himself before returning his gaze to Hildegarde and prompting three short nods.
Hildegarde rose to her feet with her hand extended for Tyler to take, “Come. There is a tavern nearby,” she smiled, “We can find some clothes and food for you.”
Tyler follows Hildegarde until they arrive at the tavern. The human still clinching the cloak tightly as he takes in his surroundings. Weary of each passerby.
Hildegarde had lifted her halberd up before escorting Tyler back to the tavern, murmuring to him, “No harm will come to you from these people. It’s not every day a naked human wanders around,” she explained, ushering him inside. “Drargon,” she called, “find some food and clothes for our friend here?”
Tyler finds himself pressed close against Hildegarde. He ignores her reassurance but does manage to find a bit of comfort in being close to the woman. These people all look so much different than him... Of course, they aren't dressed in nothing and covered in blood either.
Hildegarde tried her best not to think of the lack of clothing on Tyler, what with his close proximity. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t make her blush, but now she had to think of his health and wellbeing. He didn’t appear to remember who he was, other than his name. Otherwise, he’d surely know who she was or he’d have a thing or two to say about Skylei. Drargon bustles about, before presenting Hilde with a set of clothes made for a giant child, with the promise of preparing a hot meal. The knight holds out the clothing to Tyler, “You can get changed in that room there,” she nodded towards her own, “there’s a wash-basin, too. If you want to wipe your face.”
Tyler glances to the clothes and then to Hildegarde. He accepts the offering and offers no thought to the offered room - instead pulling the cloak from his back before pulling the clothes on the best he could in the middle of the tavern. The clothes a big, even on an adult human and the shirt hands past his shoulder as he moves toward the knight once more and quickly thrust his arm under her own, locking them together. "Who the hell are all these people?" He whispers as he continues to cut the circulation from her arm.
Hildegarde immediately shuts her eye once she realises that Tyler has no intention of using the suggested room. She keeps her eye shut until she feels the tight grip on her arm, which was initially quite startling. “Citizens,” she answered, “or visitors. They mean you no harm,” she placated him, “and even if they did, you have my protection,” she promised, leading him to a table so he might take a seat. “So… You remember nothing then?”
Tyler takes the offered seat, though he keeps scanning about like a lost child. At her question a brow is raised before eyes narrow in confusion. "Remember what?" He pulls out the chair beside him and tugs at her arm for her to take a seat while checking his flank. The human still looks disgusting with all of the dried blood staining his skin and the poor state of his health. He clinges onto Hildegarde before finally leaning back in the chair a bit and taking a deep breath. A bit of relaxation surfacing for the first time. He provides his full attention to her once more. Awaiting her explination with an open mind.
Hildegarde takes the seat when tugged, obviously doing so in order to keep him calm and placid. No need to panic over anything here, he was safe, she was sure of it. “Remember who you are, your life, all that,” she said quietly, thinking her question was quite foolish with hindsight. Drargon approaches, depositing a bowl of soup next to Tyler and a bowl of lukewarm water next to Hildegarde; a little rag waiting in the bowl. “Eat,” she said quietly, reaching for the rag in the bowl, “let me clean your face?”
Tyler readies to answer Hildegarde's question but is quickly distracted by the soup. He wastes no time digging in. His eyes close to savor the taste as the hot soup runs down his throat, much better than wolf guts. At her offer of cleaning him up he hesitates before nodding in agreement and eating at an angle to allow her such a luxioury. Between mouthfuls he would shake his head and explain, "I know who I am. My name's Tyler. Tyler Dyalus. I'm a dweller. Y'know, people without a home type deal. A begger, some call us. But I don't ask for much." He finds the irony in his words as he slurps up another spoonfull of soup.
Hildegarde frowned at his explanation, as she softly dabbed the rag upon his face; wiping away the blood with relative ease. Her touch was gentle, perhaps more gentle than anticipated for a dragon warrior. “That is not the Tyler I know,” she said softly, eye fixated upon his cheek as she softly wiped away the blood. “The Tyler I knew, crafted a fine amulet for me. One with an enchantment, too. He had a woman waiting to marry him, as well. A very fine woman at that,” she said with a pointed look, “but she is lost to him.”
Tyler doesn't flinch from Hildegarde's touch as he seems to have warmed up to her rather well. Though as she describes the details of another one, the man simply shakes his head again. "Maybe I've got a twin runnin' round then. I've never crafted anything except for a firepit once... that went badly." He chuckles at the mention of the enchanted amulet. "I 'aven't got an ounce of will in my body. Never been able to do any of that fancy schmancy magic stuff." The mention of the woman allows him to pull a faux half-frown across his complexion. "Poor girl. Oh well, plenty of other fish in the sea!" The expression fades as he dives back into the soup, finishing it off.
Hildegarde swipes the rag across the skin she can access, working around him as he ate. She didn’t want to interrupt really, but she felt it necessary to get him somewhat presentable. “At least you’re still stubborn,” she muttered, “but thankfully not quite interested in compliments or niceties.” Small graces and all that! “The Tyler from before… he hurt her,” she said carefully. “She thinks he is dead.”
Tyler allows her open access to his face now that he has finished eating. Raising and lowering his chin, moving side to side, doing whatever she requires to get him cleaned up. During a free moment when she was dabbing the rag in the water he provided the same confused look and shook his head. "How the hell do you -think- someone is dead?"
Hildegarde doesn’t take much longer in cleaning up his face, depositing the rag in the bowl of water to fix him with a look. “She said she saw you commit suicide,” she answered, “but perhaps something went amiss. A knock to the head, a forgotten memory. Something like that,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder. “What does it matter. You are alive.”
Tyler raises his hand to dismiss the thoughts of Hildegarde and shakes his head. "Look. Lady." His eyes lock with hers and for the first time, Tyler seems to be trying to assert himself. "You're mistaken me with someone else. Whoever the hell, that other guy was, I'm not him." His hand drops and so does his posture. "I don't have any friends. I don't have any skills. I'm just a nobody out in the woods. Trust me, suicides been an option." He tries to joke but his chuckle falls flat. "I'm sorry about your friend, and I'm sorry about messing around your territory... I'll be on my way." He slides out of the chair and turns to stare at the door. He wants Hildegarde to offer for him to stay. He doesn't want to go back out in the cold. He doesn't want to leave her side. Truth be told, he's scared out of his damn mind. He has no idea what's out there, where he is or where he's going. These memories in his head all seem like a haze. Perhaps the knight is right, maybe he did smack his head somewhere. But he was damn sure he wasn't the man she keeps describing.
Hildegarde’s eyebrow twitched at his words, listening to him speak and remaining utterly silent. She’d wait for her turn to speak. As Tyler made to rise out of his seat, the knight spoke with authority, “Sit down,” she commanded, watching him from her own seat. “You are in no position to survive out there, Tyler, you were pretty much ready to die. You are your own man, I am not pushing you into anything or forcing you to be who you once were. I am merely talking to you, do not take it wrongly. I am your friend,” she reassured him. “As your friend, I’m telling you to stay in my room here. I will sleep elsewhere. I will find some clothes that fit you.”
Tyler is relieved when she offers him a place to stay though the mention of her moving out for his sake for the night is quickly tossed away as he turns to face her once more, combating her authority with his own. "You sleep in the same room, or I leave." He adjusts himself to place a hand on her shoulder and makes a mocking expression. " 'Friend'. " He brushes past her and moves quickly to the room she had pointed out earlier. He didn't like the patrons or noise of the tavern. He was ready to get under some blankets and sleep, he craved the warmth. But if HIldegarde refused to be in his presense then he would keep his word and leave. He didn't feel safe without her. Of course, mere hours ago she was ready to lob off his head... but the fact remains. He needs her.
Hildegarde wasn’t intending to lob off his head, she had merely assumed a defensive stance for fear he might have been a potential opponent of some sort. The knight looked at him and sighed, “I am not tired, but I will sit in the room with you, if it makes you feel better. I shan’t be sharing your bed,” she said firmly, rising from her seat.