Death of a Warrior (Job/Private)

As dawn arrived in the town of Oshibana, so did the mage known as Skylar Silverwind, the Stormcaller. He had undertaken an unusual request in the name of his guild that brought him to this town. He was not unused to the way jobs worked in Fairy Tail at this time. Such missions had brought him to exotic locations like Joya and backwater villages within Fiore's own borders. He had rescued princesses and fought knights. He had brought life to an old farm and prosperity to its owners. He had dealt both life and death in measures. This request was similar to an assassination job, the likes of which he had seen on the job boards before. However, it bore something strange that he had never dealt with before, and had thus intrigued him. The client for the job was not asking for the death of another. He had somehow gotten it cleared with the government to have a wizard kill him. The request had spoken of his faith, and how it demanded that he die honorably, with a weapon in his hand, instead of in his bed some years from now if he wanted to achieve the highest heaven of his beliefs. Skylar did not share such faith, but his father had spoken of it to him. He knew, therefore, the dictates of the faith and why the honored dead would go to Valhalla while those that died a coward's death would be taken to Hel. This warrior, who went by the name of Ivar, had chosen to face his death on his own terms, in a trial by combat in order to ascend to Valhalla. Skylar was here to fulfill that request.

Due to the somewhat subdued and clandestine nature of the job, Skylar did not arrive borne on the winds of a thunderstorm, brought to earth by a tornado as he usually did. He had, instead, ridden a train, which was a new experience for him. He had found it distasteful in the extreme compared to the freedom of flight. But, this was how normal people traveled, and he was to appear to be a normal person until the duel was to commence. Ivar didn't want attention drawn to him from the townspeople. Skylar exited the train station and traveled through the quiet town until he had reached the address he had been given - a small, old house that looked well cared for as opposed to run down or ramshackle. He knocked on the door, and after a few moments it was opened by an elderly man, perhaps about eighty, with a long, stark white braided beard. His head was shaved on the sides, decorated by faded blue tattoos in the shape of Northern tribal art. Down the center of his head was a mane of white hair, pulled back into a ponytail adorned with beads. The man, who looked hale and spry for his age, looked Skylar up and down. "So... You're the one, eh?" he asked, his voice gravely with age but strong.

The Stormcaller nodded gravely. "I am he. You are Ivar, who was once called the Boneless?" he said. The old man looked somewhat shocked at the use of the title, but nodded. "Yes... That's me. How did you know that name?"

"My father often spoke of a warrior he knew by that name, who used a longsword and shield. A legend, he said, who fought with the speed and flexibility of a snake despite his age. When I read the request, I figured you must be the man he had spoken of." Skylar said. Ivar nodded slowly, stroking his beard.

"Your father... What was his name?"
"Jonathan Silverwind, he who was called the Stormblessed."

To Skylar's surprise, the old man's bright blue eyes filled with tears for a brief moment before he blinked them away. "Ah, lad, I knew your father well. I fought by old Stormblessed's side for many years. You know, you're the spitting image of him, young Skylar. I can face my death with happiness knowing that you followed in his path. If only there was something I could do to help you find him."

Skylar allowed himself a rare smile, mostly to cover the pang of sadness in his heart as the old man spoke of finding his father. "I appreciate the thought. sir. But I will find him, someday, on my own. he said, then shook his head. "But that is of no matter. Should we get to the true reason I am here?"

Ivar blinked, then nodded. "Yes, please. I have all my affairs in order, so just follow me." He turned and walked deeper into the house, leading the young storm mage through it and out into a small courtyard, decorated by a small fountain in the center and bushes around the perimeter. Leaning against the wall of the fountain as a sheathed longsword and a kite shield, emblazoned with a snarling wolf's-head device. Ivar picked these up, strapping the shield on with the thoughtless ease of familiarity and drawing the sword. He bowed to Skylar, then crouched slightly and began to edge around the courtyard, signalling that the battle had commenced.

For his part, Skylar stretched forth his hand, summoning the wind and shaping it into a sword that favored the Eastern style, single-edged with a slight curve and lacking a guard. Being formed of pure wind, it's shape was a mere suggestion, a distortion in the air marked by a faintly blue outline. Out of respect for the old warrior, the Stormcaller added a touch of water, which vaporized in the high-velocity airstream and turned to mist, making it appear as if he held a sword made from a cloud. Ivar nodded when he saw it in Skylar's hands. "I'm glad to see you're a storm mage like your father. And you favor the same style of sword." he said, then lunged with surprising speed, an uncoiling motion reminiscent of a striking snake. It was this fighting style that had earned him the moniker 'The Boneless', as he moved like one without bones.

Skylar barely managed to parry the lunge, meeting it with his own blade and turning it aside so it passed just shy of his body. Even then, it sliced through the edge of his coat. The old warrior followed through with the failed lunge adroitly, slamming the large shield into Skylar's chest and sending the mage stumbling backwards. The Stormcaller recovered his footing and reformed his guard, sword held in two hands with the point towards Ivar's heart, edge down, hilt held close to his chest with his left side facing the elderly fighter. Ivar nodded again, grinning. "Your father taught you well."

Skylar acknowledged this with a dip of his head, a fighting grin forming on his own face. This time, he was the one to lunge forward, carried by a sudden gust of wind that followed his blows as he struck in a flurry. Ivar slipped aside from most of them, catching one on his shield. The wind magic sheared right through the metal, peeling away a strip that glowed on both ends. Ivar laughed at this, withdrawing slightly. "Same dirty tricks as your daddy, too." The two exchanged several more flurries of blows, Skylar gaining more nicks in his coat and even two in his flesh, one high on his left cheek and the other on the side of his chest. Ivar, meanwhile, lost more chunks of his shield and sword where they met the storm mage's sword head-on, until finally the shield tore in two and the old warrior tossed it away, taking up the longsword in both hands instead. "You fight well, young wizard. It is time to finish this." He said with a nod, then made one final sweeping backhand cut. Skylar returned the nod, then met the cut with an edge-on parry, shearing straight through the core of the sword with a loud ringing sound. He then followed it up by thrusting the cloudy sword into Ivar's chest. The old man gave a gasp, but kept a firm grip on the hilt of his sword as he collapsed towards the ground. The storm mage let his sword dissipate, catching Ivar and carefully lowering him down.

"You fought with honor, old one. May the blessed Valkyries bear you spirit to the sacred halls of Valhalla, where you will feast and fight forevermore in the house of Odin." Skylar said. Ivar smiled, tears running down his face. "Thank you, son of the Stormblessed. May the winds guide you, and bring you back to him someday." the old warrior wheezed. The two clasped hands until finally, the breath left Ivar's body and he fell still. Skylar gently placed his middle finger and thumb on the old man's eyelids, carefully drawing them down over his sightless eyes. He then rose, leaving the body in the care of Ivar's family, who had been waiting and watching from inside the house. As the storm mage headed back to the train station, he wiped away the moisture on his face, though there was no rain.