Guild Wars 2

First off, I really dislike this thread title limit…

And second, this will contain spoilers for the Level 60 Personal Story (at least, what I’ve seen). Hence the spoiler tag.

Now, this has to do with one NPC I really liked and cared for: Tybalt Leftpaw, part of the Order of Whispers. I like to know why wasn’t more caring put into the loss of Tybalt. At least make a memorial to remember his bravery and sacrifice. That’s all I ask.
I mean. even after defeating Zhaitan and getting the celebration, they just didn’t seem to care that Tybalt too made this happen. They didn't even bother to look for his body, or even _if_ he actually died or not. No body = No proof. You can only presume.

Was the Risen Commander supposed to be Tybalt? I wasn't really paying attention. I was too busy trying to get him to spawn.
But yeah. It just felt like the passing of Tybalt was no biggy and you’re the true hero. Yet I didn't feel like celebrating. I really miss that guy. He was funny, and I just really liked his character. Even though I had help from four other people.

I agree with most of your comments, so not much to add. But on the risen commander- I don’t think so. It talks of Tybalt in third person, and there’s an equivalent event with (2 and a half year old spoiler) a sylvari, who can’t become a risen.

There is.. there is… Oh, I forgot where and when. But there is hope.

Here’s what happened.

First, we must go back in time several decades, to Tybalt’s great grandpappy, Humboldt. While fishing one day in a remote corner of Lion’s Arch, Humboldt happened to witness a disturbance in the water — and he saw what he thought was a human, being attacked by feral quaggans! Being brave and bold and all that, he dug out his seldom-used fishing net and cast it over the struggling figures and then hauled them in.

The human was blue, no doubt from lack of air, but the quaggans weren’t quaggans at all, but rather some weird creatures the likes of which Humboldt had never before seen. They shredded the net and escaped into the blue water, but not until after Humboldt had managed to pop a musket ball into one’s rump.

He turned his attention to the blue-hued human and it soon became evident that what he had thought was a human wasn’t any more human than the things he had thought were quaggans had been quaggans. Oh, he was human enough in general form and feature, sure, but the blue hue of his skin was clearly not from lack of oxygen, and the fellow’s armor and accoutrements were like no human trappings Humboldt had ever seen.

“You all right there, partner?” Humboldt asked.

“I will be fine,” said the stranger. “One moment.”

Humboldt had decided the poor fellow must have suffered from blunt force trauma as the blue man began patting himself on the back, but then some sort of compartment opened on the man’s pauldrons and a strange, flowing, filmy cloth-like substance unfurled therefrom, attaching itself to a framework of telescoping metallic rods. The process took only a handful of seconds, and then the man standing before Humboldt flexed what appeared to be gigantic butterfly wings.

“What is your name?” asked the man.

“Humboldt Applespice, at your service. Say, what—”

“I am in your debt, Humboldt Applespice. One day, when certain doom is upon you, I shall be there to repay that debt. If not you, then one of your get. If not me, then one of mine. And now, farewell!”

The blue man dove into the water and was gone.

Humboldt picked up his jug of applespice wine and had a sip, and another, and another, and decided he’d keep all this to himself. He lived a long and relatively happy life and died peacefully in his own bed.

Many years later, as Humboldt’s great grandson Tybalt was about to be overrun by Risen, a strange blue fellow with gigantic butterfly wings suddenly appeared and carried him away into the depths.

So there. Tybalt lives! And is having wonderful adventures — under the sea!

Tachenon.5270:

Here’s what happened.

First, we must go back in time several decades, to Tybalt’s great grandpappy, Humboldt. While fishing one day in a remote corner of Lion’s Arch, Humboldt happened to witness a disturbance in the water — and he saw what he thought was a human, being attacked by feral quaggans! Being brave and bold and all that, he dug out his seldom-used fishing net and cast it over the struggling figures and then hauled them in.

The human was blue, no doubt from lack of air, but the quaggans weren’t quaggans at all, but rather some weird creatures the likes of which Humboldt had never before seen. They shredded the net and escaped into the blue water, but not until after Humboldt had managed to pop a musket ball into one’s rump.

He turned his attention to the blue-hued human and it soon became evident that what he had thought was a human wasn’t any more human than the things he had thought were quaggans had been quaggans. Oh, he was human enough in general form and feature, sure, but the blue hue of his skin was clearly not from lack of oxygen, and the fellow’s armor and accoutrements were like no human trappings Humboldt had ever seen.

“You all right there, partner?” Humboldt asked.

“I will be fine,” said the stranger. “One moment.”

Humboldt had decided the poor fellow must have suffered from blunt force trauma as the blue man began patting himself on the back, but then some sort of compartment opened on the man’s pauldrons and a strange, flowing, filmy cloth-like substance unfurled therefrom, attaching itself to a framework of telescoping metallic rods. The process took only a handful of seconds, and then the man standing before Humboldt flexed what appeared to be gigantic butterfly wings.

“What is your name?” asked the man.

“Humboldt Applespice, at your service. Say, what—”

“I am in your debt, Humboldt Applespice. One day, when certain doom is upon you, I shall be there to repay that debt. If not you, then one of your get. If not me, then one of mine. And now, farewell!”

The blue man dove into the water and was gone.

Humboldt picked up his jug of applespice wine and had a sip, and another, and another, and decided he’d keep all this to himself. He lived a long and relatively happy life and died peacefully in his own bed.

Many years later, as Humboldt’s great grandson Tybalt was about to be overrun by Risen, a strange blue fellow with gigantic butterfly wings suddenly appeared and carried him away into the depths.

So there. Tybalt lives! And is having wonderful adventures — under the sea!

I love you.