![To honor a Warrior... [Solo Job] Empty](https://2img.net/i/empty.gif)
Aven stepped lightly off the train at Oshibana station, his unbuttoned suit coat flapping in the breeze. An odd request, he'd be fulfilling this day, a man named lor Valiir, who'd put out a hit... on himself. It wasn't foreign to Aven, the idea of an afterlife, and thus it came as no surprise when he'd found a book detailing 'Valhalla'. After all, he wouldn't accept a job to kill someone in their wrong mind, he needed to know there was reason for the request. As it turned out, Valhalla was open only to those who died honorably, therefore, deaths by sickness or age were viewed as the ultimate disgrace, an effective banishment to Hel, Valhalla's opposite. Aven couldn't say he shared the belief, but the sentiment was not lost.
He found the man waiting outside the station, a grizzled beard and a scarred visage, a longsword and shield strapped to his person. Aven smiled lightly, and waved to the man, it was unmistakable that it was lor. The man's world weary appearance still held a certain dignity, as though he were constantly locked in a battle with time itself, fighting for every last moment. Eighty years was a long time to live, and a longer time to sustain such a brutal lifestyle. lor's eyes light up ever so slightly, as he beckoned Aven over, to which Aven obliged. lor's voice was coarse, but hardy as he spoke. "Greetings, young man. Am I to believe you are the Wizard that accepted my challenge?"
Aven bowed respectfully, leaving out his usual flare, as such would be inappropriate for the somber occasion. "I am called Aven Alveron, it is an honor to meet you, lor Valiir. Have you chosen a location to fight?" He kept his words brief, punctual.
lor nodded slowly, and motioned for Aven to follow. As they walked, lor scanned Aven's physique, his eyes almost piercing in their acuity. Without a doubt, the man had known countless battles, and surprising him in any physical manner would be a feat in itself. Aven had thought quite a bit on it, but he'd decided that it would be best to give the man a true, brutal fight, using his Demon Form. It was true, he could use his cane, and try to use his youthful speed to outmaneuver lor, but when Aven thought about the concept of an honorable death, he felt it should be facing opponent head on in a clash of steel, not a volley of dodging and light strikes.
They reached their destination in silence, a barren area outside of town, where two strapping young men, in full plate, were waiting. They had similar garb to lor, and a mixture of sadness and pride in their eyes. It was obvious they were related in some way, perhaps students, or family. lor stopped, and took ten paces away from Aven, turning, and drawing his shield. He spoke with as much vigor as he could muster. "Do not hold back, young one, for I shall not pull my blows. This shall be an honorable fight to the death, so brace yourself!"
Aven exhaled slowly, emptying his mind of it's usual strategy and analysis, and shifted into his alternate form. The emerald etchings on his skin pulsed, drawing a slightly reaction from the old man, but to Aven's surprise, it was not fear, not trepidation, not even surprise: it was disappointment. Confusion sprouted momentarily in Aven's head, but he dispelled it quickly, darting forward with his cane and lashing out with incredible speed. lor, however, sent it glancing off his shield with little movement, countering with a slash across Aven's chest.
Aven dodged back before it could cut too deep, but a line of blood began to form where the blade had sliced. His brow furrowed as he struck out once more, harder this time. A parry from lor knocked the cane aside as though shrugging off a fly, and he rushed forward, knocking Aven onto the ground with a shield charge. A quick downward slash forced Aven to roll away, but the swift kick from lor after caught him directly in the ribs, partially knocking the wind out of him.
Aven managed to duck the second swipe as he reached a crouching position, the blade only grazing his hair, but the third tore into his back, flecking blood onto the soil as the gouge opened. Aven dashed away, his teeth gritted tight from the pain. He whirled around to find lor hadn't pursued. There was that disappointed look, once more, and lor vocalized this time. "Boy, I did not deem to fight you in a weakened state. Why do you insult me?"
Weakened state? Aven's head reeled, partially from the wound, but also from sheer bewilderment. What does he mean? I'm so much stronger in this form! lor shook his head, staking his blade into the ground before him. "This need not continue, if you refuse to fight me with your true self." His words cut deep, a thought that had wandered in the back of Aven's mind for as long as he could remember: Is the Demon... not me? So many times, he'd heard it's whisper, it call to embrace the power it offered. Could it truly have been, all that time, that it was not his nature to transform as such, but something else? A harrowing thought, but not as harrowing as stepping on the pride and honor of a warrior such as lor.
Aven's form shrank, wounds disappearing as his clothes re-materialized. A calming breath escaped his mouth, and for the first time, a light smile tugged at the corners of lor's mouth. the warrior brought his shield to bear, and drew his sword from the earth. "Yes, yes! Come, now, Aven Alveron, and fight for your honor!"
Aven twirled his cane as lor charged, his mind instantly racing with possibilities. The experience gap was indeed to large for Aven to best the old warrior in a normal blade fight... but Aven was no swordsman. As the longsword sliced downward, Aven danced lightly to the side, spinning with the momentum and striking the hilt with the orb of his cane. lor held fast to the weapon, but Aven proceeded to plant in on the ground, bringing his back foot into a spinning kick to lor's neck. The warrior ducked just in time, slashing across toward Aven's chest, but Aven aerialed backwards by pushing down on the ground with his cane, the slash catching only air. With his landing, lor rushed to bash with his shield, only for his leading foot to be swept from underneath him by a swipe of the cane, carried by the momentum of Aven's acrobatics. lor fell headfirst, turning as he did for a final attempt at a slash, only to be parried by the upward arc of white metal. The warrior hit the ground hard, face up, his breath gone. The orb of Aven's cane continued up and over, to slam down hard on lor's chest. It was a harrowing blow, and Aven could feel the vibration from his end: it was over.
Aven wore a somber expression, his adrenaline slowly dying off. lor, however, had no such qualms. His eyes started to droop, as the hand of the Grey reached out to take him to his fated destination. He rasped, "Thank you, young one... and remember... this... No power is... worth your... self." With that, lor Valiir passed, embarking toward the Hall of the Great Feast.
Aven smiled, a bittersweet feeling as the scene before him was burned into his mind: a true warrior, faced with death, reaching out toward the sky, wearing only a smile.
[1286/1000. Job Complete!]
He found the man waiting outside the station, a grizzled beard and a scarred visage, a longsword and shield strapped to his person. Aven smiled lightly, and waved to the man, it was unmistakable that it was lor. The man's world weary appearance still held a certain dignity, as though he were constantly locked in a battle with time itself, fighting for every last moment. Eighty years was a long time to live, and a longer time to sustain such a brutal lifestyle. lor's eyes light up ever so slightly, as he beckoned Aven over, to which Aven obliged. lor's voice was coarse, but hardy as he spoke. "Greetings, young man. Am I to believe you are the Wizard that accepted my challenge?"
Aven bowed respectfully, leaving out his usual flare, as such would be inappropriate for the somber occasion. "I am called Aven Alveron, it is an honor to meet you, lor Valiir. Have you chosen a location to fight?" He kept his words brief, punctual.
lor nodded slowly, and motioned for Aven to follow. As they walked, lor scanned Aven's physique, his eyes almost piercing in their acuity. Without a doubt, the man had known countless battles, and surprising him in any physical manner would be a feat in itself. Aven had thought quite a bit on it, but he'd decided that it would be best to give the man a true, brutal fight, using his Demon Form. It was true, he could use his cane, and try to use his youthful speed to outmaneuver lor, but when Aven thought about the concept of an honorable death, he felt it should be facing opponent head on in a clash of steel, not a volley of dodging and light strikes.
They reached their destination in silence, a barren area outside of town, where two strapping young men, in full plate, were waiting. They had similar garb to lor, and a mixture of sadness and pride in their eyes. It was obvious they were related in some way, perhaps students, or family. lor stopped, and took ten paces away from Aven, turning, and drawing his shield. He spoke with as much vigor as he could muster. "Do not hold back, young one, for I shall not pull my blows. This shall be an honorable fight to the death, so brace yourself!"
Aven exhaled slowly, emptying his mind of it's usual strategy and analysis, and shifted into his alternate form. The emerald etchings on his skin pulsed, drawing a slightly reaction from the old man, but to Aven's surprise, it was not fear, not trepidation, not even surprise: it was disappointment. Confusion sprouted momentarily in Aven's head, but he dispelled it quickly, darting forward with his cane and lashing out with incredible speed. lor, however, sent it glancing off his shield with little movement, countering with a slash across Aven's chest.
Aven dodged back before it could cut too deep, but a line of blood began to form where the blade had sliced. His brow furrowed as he struck out once more, harder this time. A parry from lor knocked the cane aside as though shrugging off a fly, and he rushed forward, knocking Aven onto the ground with a shield charge. A quick downward slash forced Aven to roll away, but the swift kick from lor after caught him directly in the ribs, partially knocking the wind out of him.
Aven managed to duck the second swipe as he reached a crouching position, the blade only grazing his hair, but the third tore into his back, flecking blood onto the soil as the gouge opened. Aven dashed away, his teeth gritted tight from the pain. He whirled around to find lor hadn't pursued. There was that disappointed look, once more, and lor vocalized this time. "Boy, I did not deem to fight you in a weakened state. Why do you insult me?"
Weakened state? Aven's head reeled, partially from the wound, but also from sheer bewilderment. What does he mean? I'm so much stronger in this form! lor shook his head, staking his blade into the ground before him. "This need not continue, if you refuse to fight me with your true self." His words cut deep, a thought that had wandered in the back of Aven's mind for as long as he could remember: Is the Demon... not me? So many times, he'd heard it's whisper, it call to embrace the power it offered. Could it truly have been, all that time, that it was not his nature to transform as such, but something else? A harrowing thought, but not as harrowing as stepping on the pride and honor of a warrior such as lor.
Aven's form shrank, wounds disappearing as his clothes re-materialized. A calming breath escaped his mouth, and for the first time, a light smile tugged at the corners of lor's mouth. the warrior brought his shield to bear, and drew his sword from the earth. "Yes, yes! Come, now, Aven Alveron, and fight for your honor!"
Aven twirled his cane as lor charged, his mind instantly racing with possibilities. The experience gap was indeed to large for Aven to best the old warrior in a normal blade fight... but Aven was no swordsman. As the longsword sliced downward, Aven danced lightly to the side, spinning with the momentum and striking the hilt with the orb of his cane. lor held fast to the weapon, but Aven proceeded to plant in on the ground, bringing his back foot into a spinning kick to lor's neck. The warrior ducked just in time, slashing across toward Aven's chest, but Aven aerialed backwards by pushing down on the ground with his cane, the slash catching only air. With his landing, lor rushed to bash with his shield, only for his leading foot to be swept from underneath him by a swipe of the cane, carried by the momentum of Aven's acrobatics. lor fell headfirst, turning as he did for a final attempt at a slash, only to be parried by the upward arc of white metal. The warrior hit the ground hard, face up, his breath gone. The orb of Aven's cane continued up and over, to slam down hard on lor's chest. It was a harrowing blow, and Aven could feel the vibration from his end: it was over.
Aven wore a somber expression, his adrenaline slowly dying off. lor, however, had no such qualms. His eyes started to droop, as the hand of the Grey reached out to take him to his fated destination. He rasped, "Thank you, young one... and remember... this... No power is... worth your... self." With that, lor Valiir passed, embarking toward the Hall of the Great Feast.
Aven smiled, a bittersweet feeling as the scene before him was burned into his mind: a true warrior, faced with death, reaching out toward the sky, wearing only a smile.
[1286/1000. Job Complete!]
