An End Fit for a Warrior (Tyler's Death)
Dec 7, 2015 17:08:48 GMT -5
Post by lance on Dec 7, 2015 17:08:48 GMT -5
Tyler Westbrook
The end of the world began with a raffle...
And ended with the strike of a halberd.
Tyler Westbrook had survived a lot over the past week.
He had escaped the bloodbath with his life, which wasn't saying much given the lack of desire to kill from pretty much everyone in the fight. Even the broken wrist he had received had been a minor inconvenience, patched up relatively quickly by a quick thinking Rowdy and Heather.
He had survived the brawl in the glen that had ended the life of the girl from three, Odile, and had given Tyler his first casuality - the arm of Leo Everitt.
He had survived the ambush at the bog, where Jequirity, Leo, and Tyler's own district partner, Saxton Hale, had attempted to exact revenge on them, only for Leo to fall in return, though at the cost of Daria's foot.
He had survived the feast at the beach that had claimed the lives of five other tributes, including Rowdy himself.
He had survived the assault of the great flaming beast on the cliffs, even going so far as to severing its head from its shoulders.
And he had survived the attack of the two Careers from One, an attack that had ended badly for them. He had claimed his first tribute kill that day, ending the life of Ruth Foster.
He had survived so much, but now, his luck seemed to have finally exhausted itself, like the luck of so many before him.
The boy from Five struck yet again, but a mere slice on his opponent's arm was all that his efforts reaped.
Come on, Ty. he thought bitterly. You can do better than that. Where's the fire that you had when you severed the beast's head? When you parted Leo's arm from his-.
Silver flashed out of the corner of Tyler's vision, then pain erupted like a bomb in his right arm. Blood burst from the slash - a deep one, far deeper than Tyler's own - like a river of crimson that had suddenly overflowed its banks and was now running rampant across his arm.
The silver flashed again, and Tyler barely had time to blink before it was his head bursting into pain. His helmet, or what was left of it, was forcibly knocked off of Tyler's head, and a fire far greater than the one in his arm ignited as sharp metal sliced through cartilage and flesh. Tyler's ear, now free from its mandatory confines, fell away from his face, like some wingless delivery word trying desperately to escape from the clutching hands of an overeager tribute, before crashing onto the sand with a sickening plop.
Vision glazed over in pain, Tyler locked eyes with his opponent for one brief second. The facial features were unrecognizable, all blurring together in some weird pudding-like mess. But in the center of it all, clearly distinguishable from the rest of his face, were his eyes. Standing out strong and bright - are they glowing yellow? - there was no mistaking the undisguised hatred locked in the orbs.
Then the halberd entered Tyler's thigh, and he cried out in pain.
The whole thing had taken perhaps fifteen seconds.
Tyler sank to his knees, blood pouring from the multiple wounds newly marking his body. The Career stood perhaps twenty feet in front of him, watching. Waiting.
Waiting, for Tyler Westbrook to die.
The realization hit the blond boy like a pile of bricks.
He was about to die.
As he laid there gasping, weight supported by arms and knees alone, he briefly wondered what this must look like to the outside world.
"The almighty Career, displaying his usual superiority, cows yet another pathetic excuse for a tribute into submission."
A mental image of himself practically bowing before the boy from One flashed across his mind. A voice, so much like his own, accompanied the rather embarrassing picture.
"Look, Tyler." Avery had said, unable to make eye contact. "If you have to die, at least go down fighting.
"Don't be that coward that begs for his life at the end. Make your killer fight for every last breath.
"Show them how a Westbrook fights and dies."
Slowly, Tyler raised his head. His opponent stood there, displaying no signs of joy or elation. Just a face set in stone, hatred burning like a bonfire behind the now-brown orbs on his face.
Laying in front of him, stained with the blood of many enemies, was the weapon that had sliced and diced Tyler through so many conflicts, the weapon virtually identical to the one the boy across from him was holding. Reaching out with his good arm, Tyler's hand curled around the cool metal of the weapon hilt. With some effort, he picked it up, planting the end into the sand like some sort of metal flag.
Body trembling from pain, fatigue, and blood loss, Tyler nevertheless made it to his feet, leaning heavily on the halberd. He took another look into the eyes of his opponent. Unchanging and steely as ever.
Then, he laughed.
The blond boy wasn't sure exactly what brought it on, whether it was some act of courage, stupidity, or merely insanity from blood loss. Whatever the case, he laughed, a sound full of glee and mirth.
"Well, my friend, you gave it a good shot, didn't you?" Tyler taunted, glee still spread across his face and in his tone. "I almost thought you had me there for a moment. Regardless, I'm not leaving this place in one piece." Here, the blond boy gestured to his severed ear, the motion sending a wave of dizziness through his brain, therefore causing him to suddenly double over. If it hadn't been for the halberd, he most definitely would have collapsed.
When he finally regained his composure, all traces of joy had evaporated from his face, leaving behind only a face twisted in rage and righteous anger.
"You want your revenge that badly, One?" Tyler spoke, this time in a voice that was steely calm. "Well, come and get it then, bitch."
That did it. Finally, the Career moved towards him, a sneer spread across his face.
Tyler took a deep, shuddering breath. It's now or never, Ty. Don't fuck it up.
The Career was closing in. Fifteen feet. Ten. Five.
He raised his weapon to strike, but Tyler struck first.
In one smooth fluid motion, he yanked the halberd out of the sand and swung it, strong and precise, at the boy's head.
Tyler felt the familiar tug in his arms as weapon struck target, and blood spurted from his opponent's head as the other boy yelled out in agony.
The effort caused the blond boy to sink back to his knees, but at the moment that didn't matter. For one glorious moment, sheer elation flooded through Tyler's nervous system.
I did it. I actually fucking did it. he thought, and the grin returned to his face. I fought and defeated a Career by mys-
The cheer of victory died in his throat as the Career turned back towards Tyler far quicker than he expected. A deep gash on his forehead gushed blood, seeping down his face, but his opponent only looked enraged.
Oh shit.
The boy raised his halberd, like he was about to stick a stake in the ground, and Tyler instinctively knew that no matter what he did, it wouldn't be enough.
Well, looks like this is the end. Tyler thought, closing his eyes. I'm sorry for leaving you behi-
Then the halberd entered his chest, and Tyler Westbrook thought no more.
And ended with the strike of a halberd.
Tyler Westbrook had survived a lot over the past week.
He had escaped the bloodbath with his life, which wasn't saying much given the lack of desire to kill from pretty much everyone in the fight. Even the broken wrist he had received had been a minor inconvenience, patched up relatively quickly by a quick thinking Rowdy and Heather.
He had survived the brawl in the glen that had ended the life of the girl from three, Odile, and had given Tyler his first casuality - the arm of Leo Everitt.
He had survived the ambush at the bog, where Jequirity, Leo, and Tyler's own district partner, Saxton Hale, had attempted to exact revenge on them, only for Leo to fall in return, though at the cost of Daria's foot.
He had survived the feast at the beach that had claimed the lives of five other tributes, including Rowdy himself.
He had survived the assault of the great flaming beast on the cliffs, even going so far as to severing its head from its shoulders.
And he had survived the attack of the two Careers from One, an attack that had ended badly for them. He had claimed his first tribute kill that day, ending the life of Ruth Foster.
He had survived so much, but now, his luck seemed to have finally exhausted itself, like the luck of so many before him.
The boy from Five struck yet again, but a mere slice on his opponent's arm was all that his efforts reaped.
Come on, Ty. he thought bitterly. You can do better than that. Where's the fire that you had when you severed the beast's head? When you parted Leo's arm from his-.
Silver flashed out of the corner of Tyler's vision, then pain erupted like a bomb in his right arm. Blood burst from the slash - a deep one, far deeper than Tyler's own - like a river of crimson that had suddenly overflowed its banks and was now running rampant across his arm.
The silver flashed again, and Tyler barely had time to blink before it was his head bursting into pain. His helmet, or what was left of it, was forcibly knocked off of Tyler's head, and a fire far greater than the one in his arm ignited as sharp metal sliced through cartilage and flesh. Tyler's ear, now free from its mandatory confines, fell away from his face, like some wingless delivery word trying desperately to escape from the clutching hands of an overeager tribute, before crashing onto the sand with a sickening plop.
Vision glazed over in pain, Tyler locked eyes with his opponent for one brief second. The facial features were unrecognizable, all blurring together in some weird pudding-like mess. But in the center of it all, clearly distinguishable from the rest of his face, were his eyes. Standing out strong and bright - are they glowing yellow? - there was no mistaking the undisguised hatred locked in the orbs.
Then the halberd entered Tyler's thigh, and he cried out in pain.
The whole thing had taken perhaps fifteen seconds.
Tyler sank to his knees, blood pouring from the multiple wounds newly marking his body. The Career stood perhaps twenty feet in front of him, watching. Waiting.
Waiting, for Tyler Westbrook to die.
The realization hit the blond boy like a pile of bricks.
He was about to die.
As he laid there gasping, weight supported by arms and knees alone, he briefly wondered what this must look like to the outside world.
"The almighty Career, displaying his usual superiority, cows yet another pathetic excuse for a tribute into submission."
A mental image of himself practically bowing before the boy from One flashed across his mind. A voice, so much like his own, accompanied the rather embarrassing picture.
"Look, Tyler." Avery had said, unable to make eye contact. "If you have to die, at least go down fighting.
"Don't be that coward that begs for his life at the end. Make your killer fight for every last breath.
"Show them how a Westbrook fights and dies."
Slowly, Tyler raised his head. His opponent stood there, displaying no signs of joy or elation. Just a face set in stone, hatred burning like a bonfire behind the now-brown orbs on his face.
Laying in front of him, stained with the blood of many enemies, was the weapon that had sliced and diced Tyler through so many conflicts, the weapon virtually identical to the one the boy across from him was holding. Reaching out with his good arm, Tyler's hand curled around the cool metal of the weapon hilt. With some effort, he picked it up, planting the end into the sand like some sort of metal flag.
Body trembling from pain, fatigue, and blood loss, Tyler nevertheless made it to his feet, leaning heavily on the halberd. He took another look into the eyes of his opponent. Unchanging and steely as ever.
Then, he laughed.
The blond boy wasn't sure exactly what brought it on, whether it was some act of courage, stupidity, or merely insanity from blood loss. Whatever the case, he laughed, a sound full of glee and mirth.
"Well, my friend, you gave it a good shot, didn't you?" Tyler taunted, glee still spread across his face and in his tone. "I almost thought you had me there for a moment. Regardless, I'm not leaving this place in one piece." Here, the blond boy gestured to his severed ear, the motion sending a wave of dizziness through his brain, therefore causing him to suddenly double over. If it hadn't been for the halberd, he most definitely would have collapsed.
When he finally regained his composure, all traces of joy had evaporated from his face, leaving behind only a face twisted in rage and righteous anger.
"You want your revenge that badly, One?" Tyler spoke, this time in a voice that was steely calm. "Well, come and get it then, bitch."
That did it. Finally, the Career moved towards him, a sneer spread across his face.
Tyler took a deep, shuddering breath. It's now or never, Ty. Don't fuck it up.
The Career was closing in. Fifteen feet. Ten. Five.
He raised his weapon to strike, but Tyler struck first.
In one smooth fluid motion, he yanked the halberd out of the sand and swung it, strong and precise, at the boy's head.
Tyler felt the familiar tug in his arms as weapon struck target, and blood spurted from his opponent's head as the other boy yelled out in agony.
The effort caused the blond boy to sink back to his knees, but at the moment that didn't matter. For one glorious moment, sheer elation flooded through Tyler's nervous system.
I did it. I actually fucking did it. he thought, and the grin returned to his face. I fought and defeated a Career by mys-
The cheer of victory died in his throat as the Career turned back towards Tyler far quicker than he expected. A deep gash on his forehead gushed blood, seeping down his face, but his opponent only looked enraged.
Oh shit.
The boy raised his halberd, like he was about to stick a stake in the ground, and Tyler instinctively knew that no matter what he did, it wouldn't be enough.
Well, looks like this is the end. Tyler thought, closing his eyes. I'm sorry for leaving you behi-
Then the halberd entered his chest, and Tyler Westbrook thought no more.
And though he left many that loved him behind...
Deep down, death in battle is what he preferred.
Deep down, death in battle is what he preferred.
), to Ali and her overall awesomeness and stabby portrayal of Daria (keep stabbing those bitches in heaven, k? k) to Cameron and his camness in both the chat and with Heather (do I even have to explain this one?), you all have been an absolute joy to roleplay, ally, and eventually just bond with. Bagpipes forever yo. 
