#writeober

[lowat-golden-tower]

Didn't see any Writober prompts lists up in the tag yet so I figured I'd just whip one up myself so people can get to cracking and prepare!

Feel free to tackle and use these however you wish. If you do use it, please tag me! I want to see what everyone writes! :D Be it fandom-related or OC stuff.

Also please reblog and share this around so your followers can see! Spread the word! Spoopy month isn't just for art prompts! >:3 This one is alllll ours.

Though as a side note if you wish to utilize this as an art prompts list, have at it! :3c Just be sure to tag me still! I'm a slut for art.

[omitsucoven]

Day 4 : The Day I Lost You..

Not especially proud of this one.. I will probably rewrite it one day

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Word Count : 891

Letter Count (no spaces): 4k119

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Asmira had taken up temporary residence in the outer rim. It seemed more sensible to keep a low profile since her death had been staged, she had to keep a low profile. So she set her sights on the Lahara sector and established her camp on Agamar. Settled in a cave, she spent most of her time training, waiting patiently for the time when she would be called to the front. The former Jedi Knight had become a Sith after her encounter with the spirit of Darth Traya. Since her victory over her, she had earned the official title of Sith Lord. Since then, she had served Darth Sidious in the role of Inquisitor. It had been 1 year, 6 months, 20 days, 12 hours and 45 minutes since Asmira Illidithas Ardan was declared missing. A tragic "incident" was said to be the cause of her demise.

She thought about it all the time. Sometimes she almost regretted the days when she served the Jedi Order with religious fervour, surrounded by those she loved. Even though they had now become her enemies, she couldn't help worrying about some of them. After all, they were the closest thing she had to family. Asmira had not had the most... conventional childhood. Coming from a rather poor and needy family, Asmira did not have an easy start in life. However, perhaps it would have been better if she had lived this life. What would have happened if Garyl Argtur hadn't bought her from her parents? What if they had refused the offer? Perhaps she would have been happier. Finishing her tree push-ups, she lowered her feet, letting them touch the ground again. She wiped the beads of sweat from her face with her gloved hand. She observed her surroundings before continuing her daily training. She was learning martial arts, having realised that without her sword she was nothing. She wanted to surpass herself and show the world what she was capable of. She repeated the same movements over and over again every day, and had now mastered them almost perfectly.

For several weeks now, Asmira had been experiencing disturbances in the Force. She couldn't explain it in concrete terms, but her dreams and thoughts were blurred. She couldn't work out what was happening. "Surely it's an internal conflict?" she thought. But she preferred to ignore the problem. After all, none of this concerned her any more... Asmira was sitting on a tree branch. She was watching the starry sky.

She was a little sad that evening. For some reason, she felt that her heart was in pain. She could feel her heart clenching in her chest. She watched her body trying to understand what was happening to her. When she tried to look at her hands, she was surprised to find that they were shaking. The rest of her body seemed to be shaking too. So she grabbed his shoulders in the hope of calming the tremors, but to no avail. It was only a few seconds before her vision began to blur. Her eyes began to fill with tears. Asmira Illidithas Ardan was crying. It had not happened for such a long time. Surprisingly, she, who usually managed to contain her emotions, burst into tears. She remained in the same position for long minutes. Sobbing her eyes out, unable to control herself.

The next day, although Asmira had been unable to rest last night, she resumed her usual routine. Today, however, she began her day with a meditation session. Perhaps she would find rest in meditation. Poor child, her curiosity will get the better of her. As she concentrated on making a full connection with the Force, she was overwhelmed with information, abandoning her seated position and starting to hold her head. Her face contorted in pain. Tears of pain rolled down her cheeks. She screamed. Her screams echoed in her cave. Most of the animals around her had fled in fear. After a few seconds that seemed like hours. After that, calm returned. Well, not completely. She was lying on the ground, panting, exhausted. Before fainting, all she could see was one last image. One last vision. A friend, her friend, her best friend, the one she considered to be her brother. A member of her family too, dying on the ground. She wasn't familiar with the place. But she could hear his screams. She remained motionless. The stupor and shock that had just hit her were indefinable. She let out one last tear before fainting.

Fortunately, Asmira's droid gave her first aid. A few hours later, she woke up on the straw mattress that served as her bed. It wasn't luxurious, but it was comfortable. She stood up, holding her head in her hands. The scene was still haunting her mind. The tears began to flow again. Asmira broke down for the second time.

Nothing would ever be the same again. Her life will be changed forever. I don't even know if she'll survive until she's sent back to the front. Asmira's fate is uncertain. The loss of a loved one is painful. Very painful. Few manage to overcome it. Let us pray, dear reader, that our young lady survives this difficult time. But deep down, you know that everything will be fine. Otherwise, why am I telling you this story?

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[miryel89]

🇬🇧 hello everyone! I'm happy to announce that I decided to create my own personalized Inktober list (since the official one doesn't inspire me at all) and so after asking the people closest to me to give me a word, here is the final result and I have to say which is a BEAUTIFUL list! Unfortunately I wasn't able to insert them all, so if you can't find them here it's only because I ran out of space plus some words were borrowed from the #deadboydetectives Promptober, thank you @dbdpromptober for allowing me to insert them here! I can't wait to get started and feel free to use it if you want, using the hashtags and tagging me if you like, so I can see the final result! Thank you all for your attention and good art!

°°°°°°°°°

🇮🇹 salve a tutti! sono felice di annunciarvi che ho deciso di creare la mia lista personalizzata per l'inktober (siccome quella ufficiale non mi ispira affatto) e dunque dopo aver chiesto alle persone più vicine a me di darmi una parola, ecco qua il risultato finale e devo dire che è una lista BELLISSIMA! Purtroppo non sono riuscita ad inserirle tutte, quindi se non vi trovate qui dentro è solo perché avevo finito lo spazio 🥲 in più alcune parole sono state prese in prestito dal Promptober di #deadboydetectives, ringrazio @dbdpromptober per avermi concesso di inserirle qui! Non vedo l'ora di inizia e sentirvi liberi di usarla se volete, usando gli hashtag e taggandomi se vi va, così che io possa vedere il risultato!

grazie a tutti per l'attenzione e abbiate una buona arte!

[ezra-is-writing]

Writeotber Day 1, Cold

[shallyouobeyme]

Hi :) I really liked bounce and I was just wondering if you plan on ever continuing that story ?

Right now my main focus lies on completing Yandere Writeober, but I really enjoyed writing Bounce so I definitely consider it, who knows maybe one of the prompts fits for a sequel or I'll have some time and inspiration otherwise where I'll write it extra. It really excites me that you liked it so I do hope if I ever (which is likely) write a part two you'll enjoy that as well

[martyrborne]

Inspired by the Inktober prompt of today as well as the style of many of Mary Oliver’s pieces. 

[connor-sent-by-cyberlife]

Get ready, y'all! It begins tomorrow!!!

Something Special for the Spooky Month

Here's my fifth Detroit: Become Human Prompt Challenge. In celebration of Inktober/Writeober I'll bring you a full month of prompts this time.

It will take place from October 1st - 31st, 2021.

As always, I hope for lots of participants and I can't wait to see what you guys come up with this time. Let's get spooky, let's get dark, bring on the angst! Or use the prompts however you want and make something fluffy or funny out of them or let all the hurt heal with some good comfort ;) . You know I really don't mind how you use my prompts as long as you use them :D .

Prompts:

October 1st - Friday: unknown sender

October 2nd - Saturday: password incorrect

October 3rd - Sunday: autopilot

October 4th - Monday: digital nightmares

October 5th - Tuesday: immortal

October 6th - Wednesday: data missing

October 7th - Thurday: deactivation

October 8th - Friday: prison of logic

October 9th - Saturday: void

October 10th - Sunday: access denied

October 11th - Monday: three laws of robotics

October 12th - Tuesday: incompatible

October 13th - Wednesday: seven digital sins

October 14th - Thurday: shutdown inevitable

October 15th - Friday: creator

October 16th - Saturday: does this unit have a soul?

October 17th - Sunday: flight mode

October 18th - Monday: just a machine

October 19th - Tuesday: GPS signal lost

October 20th - Wednesday: not part of my program

October 21st - Thursday: virtual reality

October 22nd - Friday: danger detected

October 23rd - Saturday: system temperature critical

October 24th - Sunday: five nights at CyberLife

October 25th - Monday: incomplete

October 26th - Tuesday: white noise

October 27th - Wednesday: experiment

October 28th - Thursday: file not found

October 29th - Friday: virus

October 30th - Saturday: junkyard

October 31st - Sunday: no heaven for androids

Information and Rules:

The tag for this challenge is #dbhghostsinthemachine. Please use this tag for any of your contributions and follow it in case you want to see what other people do with the prompts

Any kind of art or writing is most welcome

You're free to choose any character or ship from the D:BH fandom (no OCs) you like

Show/Write what you want, but please make sure to tag your content correctly, so people who don't want nsfw/gore/a specific ship/whatever on their dash don't have to see it

Don't bash anybody for their chosen ship or content!

You can contribute more than one piece per day

Of course you can pick single prompts from the list, you don't have to do all of them if you don't want to

If you can't finish a submission in time, you can always post it belated

Not a rule, but I'd really appreciate if you'd tag me ( @connor-sent-by-cyberlife ) if you contribute something to this challenge

Reblogs to bring attention to this challenge would be highly appreciated

If you have any further questions, please feel free to ask

Thank you for your interest and support!

[hysterialevi]

Day 25 - Jarl

"There he sat in those desolate halls, watching as his son chased after the future that had been stolen from him."

"The boy ventured blindly into the arms of the enemy, fervent with determination to reclaim the glory he so desperately desired."

"But alas, he returned. Broken and bruised, he sought the end to his saga in the very same place it began, only to find his father chasing after a past that could no longer be repaired."

[prince-strife]

Hi y’all!! I’m sososo excited to announce that I’ve made an October prompt list! I’ve wanted to write more lately, and I originally just made this for myself, but I thought it’d be cool to see other people’s ideas! Hope y’all enjoy this!

Edit: Not sure how many people will see this, but I forgot to say that if you’re writing, fan fiction and original stories are both perfectly fine! 💕

[0-lightwalker-0]

It's writeober time baby :D

I'll be writing for this, hopefully a oneshot a day

[omitsucoven]

Day 4: The Day I Lost You.. (French)

Not especially proud of this one.. I will probably rewrite it one day

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Word Count : 894

Letter Count (no spaces): 4k740

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Asmira s‘était installée temporairement dans la bordure extérieure. Il lui semblait plus raisonnable de se faire toute petite depuis la mise en scène de sa mort, elle devait se faire toute petite. Elle avait donc jeté son dévolu sur le secteur Lahara et avait établi son camp sur Agamar. Installée dans une grotte, elle passait le plus clair de son temps à s’entraîner, attendant patiemment le temps où elle serait appelée au front. L’ancienne chevalière Jedi était devenue une Sith après sa rencontre avec l’esprit de Dark Traya. Depuis sa victoire contre elle, elle avait obtenu le titre officiel de seigneur sith. Depuis, elle servait Dark Sidious,occupant le rôle d’inquisiteur. Cela faisait 1 an, 6 mois, 20 jours, 12 heures et 45 minutes que Asmira Illidithas Ardan avait été déclarée portée disparue. Un tragique "incident" aurait causé sa perte. 

Elle y pensait sans cesse. Regrettant presque parfois l'époque où elle servait avec une ferveur religieuse l'Ordre Jedi entourée de ses proches et de ceux qu'elle aimait. Quand bien même ils étaient devenus ses ennemis désormais, elle ne pouvait s'empêcher de s'inquiéter pour quelques-uns d’entre eux. Après tout, ils étaient ce qui s'apparenterait le plus à une famille pour elle. Asmira n’avait pas eu une enfance des plus.. conventionnelle. Issue d’une famille assez pauvre et dans le besoin, Asmira n'eut pas un début de vie facile. Cependant, peut-être aurait-il été préférable qu’elle vive cette vie. Que ce serait-il passé si Garyl Argtur ne l’avait pas achetée auprès de ses parents ? Et si ces derniers avaient refusé l’offre ? Peut-être qu’elle aurait été plus heureuse. Finissant ses pompes en arbres, elle fit redescendre ses pieds. les laissant retoucher le sol. Elle essuya de sa main gantée les gouttes de sueur qui perlaient son visage. Elle observait les alentours avant de continuer son entraînement quotidien. Elle apprenait les arts martiaux, s’étant rendue compte que sans son sabre elle n’était rien. Elle voulait se surpasser et montrer au monde de quoi elle était capable. Elle reproduisait tous les jours sans cesse les mêmes mouvements, elle les maîtrisait désormais presque parfaitement. 

Cela faisait déjà plusieurs semaines qu’Asmira ressentait des perturbations dans la Force. Elle ne saurait l'expliquer concrètement mais, ses rêves et ses pensées étaient brouillées. Elle ne parvenait pas à comprendre ce qu'il se passait. “Surement un conflit interne ?” se disait-elle. Elle préférait surtout ignorer le problème. Après tout, rien de tout cela ne la concernait désormais.. Asmira était installée sur une branche d’arbre. Elle observait le ciel étoilé. 

Elle était un peu attristée ce soir-là. Pour une raison qu’elle ignorait, elle sentait que son cœur était en peine. Elle sentait son coeur se serrer dans sa poitrine. Elle observait son corps essayant de comprendre ce qu’il lui arrivait. En voulant observer ses mains, elle fut surprise de constater que ces dernières étaient en train de trembloter. Le reste de son corps aussi semblait trembler. Elle agrippa donc ses épaules, dans l’espoir de calmer les tremblements, en vain. Il ne fallut que quelques secondes pour que sa vue se mette à se troubler. Ses yeux commençant à accumuler des larmes. Asmira Illidithas Ardan pleurait. Ça n’était pas arrivé depuis tellement longtemps. Surprenant, elle qui parvenait à contenir ses émotions d’ordinaire fondait en larmes. Elle resta dans la même position pendant de longues minutes. Sanglotant à chaudes larmes, ne pouvant plus se contrôler. Le lendemain, alors qu’Asmira n’avait su trouver le repos la nuit dernière, elle reprit sa routine habituelle. Cependant, aujourd’hui, elle commençait sa journée par une session de méditation. Peut-être trouvera-t-elle le repos en méditant. Pauvre enfant, sa curiosité la perdra. Alors qu’elle se concentra pour entrer pleinement en connexion avec la Force, elle fut submergée d'informations, abandonnant sa position assise pour se mettre à se tenir la tête. Le visage déformé par la douleur. Des larmes de douleur dévalant ses joues. Elle hurlait. Ses cris résonnaient dans sa grotte. La plupart des animaux aux alentours s’étaient enfuis pris par la peur. Après quelques secondes qui lui avait semblé défiler comme des heures. Après cela, le calme revint. Enfin, pas totalement. Elle était allongée sur le sol, haletante, épuisée. Avant de s'évanouir, elle ne put voir qu'une dernière image. Une dernière vision. Un ami, son ami, son meilleur ami, celui qu'elle considérait comme étant comme son frère. Un membre de sa famille en outre, agonisant au sol. L'endroit ne lui était pas familier. Mais elle entendait ses hurlements. Elle resta immobile. La stupeur et le choc qui venait de la heurter n'étaient pas définissable. Elle laissa échapper une dernière larme avant de s'évanouir. 

Fort heureusement, le droid d'Asmira lui prodigua les premiers soins. Quelques heures plus tard, elle se réveilla sur la paillasse qui lui servait de lit. Ce n'était pas le grand luxe, mais c'était confortable. Elle se releva, tenant sa tête entre ses mains. La scène hantant encore son esprit. Les larmes se remirent à couler à flots. Asmira craqua pour la seconde fois. 

Rien ne sera plus jamais pareil désormais. Sa vie restera à jamais changée. J'ignore même si elle survivra jusqu'à ce qu'on la rapatrie au front. Le destin d'Asmira est incertain. La perte d'un être cher est douloureuse. Très douloureuse. Peu parviennent à la surmonter. Prions cher lecteur que notre jeune demoiselle survive à cette mauvaise passe. Mais dans le fond, vous savez que tout ira bien. Sinon, pourquoi vous contentais-je cette histoire ?

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[peratzatha]

I initially made this just for me but since everybody was on board with it, I took in your suggestions and lo, we have our very own prompt list! Thank you for your suggestions! If you’re participating, don’t forget to tag me like last year, I love to see your works!! Share this with your friends if they want to join 💚💚

[cindereleanor]

Wow @ myself, you managed to do like half the writeober challenge??😂To be fair, this is about what I expected, and I’ve definitely done more writing recently than in a while!! I’ll probably post more of the days I missed over time, but on the final day of October, here’s the finished (well, still unpolished!) version of the ghost story I did a while back. I’m counting this version as Day 30 - Spirit. XD (edit: phew I think I’ve finally worked out how to put a long post under a cut!)

The haunted places are not always the ones you might expect.

I had spent the day visiting the ruins of the abbey: as a medievalist by trade, these trips were a regular occurrence. I truly loved seeing the ancient building stand there: a husk of its former grandeur, yet somehow more richly steeped in power than ever. At least in my eyes.

Darkness was just settling over the landscape as I began packing up my notebooks, preparing to leave. Perfect. I had timed my visit deliberately to catch this moment: the abbey at night really gave meaning to the term “gothic architecture”. Really, it was a great shame that it was not open to visitors much later.

I should have just been glad to get to see it like this at all. After all, who doesn’t love a good spooky sight?

The problem with ghosts though, is that what makes them spooky is the fear of the unknown. When you anticipate that a place will be full of them, they may as well fade into nothing. Perhaps that was why I never really got the supernatural vibes that you would expect from the abbey. Well, you could also put it down to my generally sceptical nature, I suppose. So much for that ghost-hunter aesthetic I aspired towards. A pity too: I really had the perfect coat for the role.

I realised I had been dawdling, and then had to rush to catch my train. Panting, I collapsed onboard just on time. The carriage was warm compared to the biting chill of the evening air. I began to feel drowsy…

I woke with an icy shudder to feel a hand on the small of my back. Disgusted, I turned, prepared to deliver a lecture to a man who thought it was his right to touch me as he pleased. But the harasser was nowhere in sight. Blinking sleep from my eyes, I reached for my thermos of tea, hoping the caffeine would help me to keep alert for the remainder of my journey.

I was right, it did help. But the lukewarm drink was not enough to shake the chill that had taken a hold of me.

My stop came. I joined the throngs of people on the platform. A strange feeling of isolation, however, surrounded me, an invisible wall of ice between me and the crowds. I was adrift. Lost.

That was it: lost. Something about this place felt unfamiliar. Maybe spending so many hours steeped in the history of the abbey had caused my sense of time to become uncalibrated. I thought of a compass needle and how confused it becomes when a magnet is drawn close to it. Perhaps all the time I was spending in the past had begun to confuse my sense of the present? More and more people were arriving. I was invisible to them; the crowd seemed to pass right through me. Their clothing seemed like it belonged in another time? Or perhaps I was the one who did not belong?

Shaking - as if that could rid me of this eerie feeling - I continued on my way home.

Or at least, I intended to.

An arm snaked out of the shadows, pulling me back into the crowd. I whipped round, and found myself face-to-face with a man. I stared, and our eyes met each other. His gaze pierced me. It was as bright as midday, but the brightness was cold, blue, vaporous, supernatural. In that moment, I knew with absolute certainty that he was real.

These strange figures were no mere conjuring of a tired imagination. Neither were they simply a crowd of commuters.

I jerked myself away. A voice called out,

‘Excuse me – I think you dropped your notebook?’

The man running up behind me could not possibly be the same man whose expression had just bored through my soul. He was too warm, too earnest, too much the bearded glasses-wearing hipster type. A hot wave of relief flooded through me and I reached out to take my notebook from his outstretched hand.

But my hand slipped through.

His normal, oh so normal, eyes met mine, a look of pure terror on his face. In the cold fog of his glasses, I glimpsed the reflection of my own eyes: an icy, blinding blue.

[maisulli]

combined response to my prompts,  “grazing” / “hamlet tongue”

[connor-sent-by-cyberlife]

Something Special for the Spooky Month

3 more weeks to go!!!

Here's my fifth Detroit: Become Human Prompt Challenge. In celebration of Inktober/Writeober I'll bring you a full month of prompts this time.

It will take place from October 1st - 31st, 2021.

As always, I hope for lots of participants and I can't wait to see what you guys come up with this time. Let's get spooky, let's get dark, bring on the angst! Or use the prompts however you want and make something fluffy or funny out of them or let all the hurt heal with some good comfort ;) . You know I really don't mind how you use my prompts as long as you use them :D .

Prompts:

October 1st - Friday: unknown sender

October 2nd - Saturday: password incorrect

October 3rd - Sunday: autopilot

October 4th - Monday: digital nightmares

October 5th - Tuesday: immortal

October 6th - Wednesday: data missing

October 7th - Thurday: deactivation

October 8th - Friday: prison of logic

October 9th - Saturday: void

October 10th - Sunday: access denied

October 11th - Monday: three laws of robotics

October 12th - Tuesday: incompatible

October 13th - Wednesday: seven digital sins

October 14th - Thurday: shutdown inevitable

October 15th - Friday: creator

October 16th - Saturday: does this unit have a soul?

October 17th - Sunday: flight mode

October 18th - Monday: just a machine

October 19th - Tuesday: GPS signal lost

October 20th - Wednesday: not part of my program

October 21st - Thursday: virtual reality

October 22nd - Friday: danger detected

October 23rd - Saturday: system temperature critical

October 24th - Sunday: five nights at CyberLife

October 25th - Monday: incomplete

October 26th - Tuesday: white noise

October 27th - Wednesday: experiment

October 28th - Thursday: file not found

October 29th - Friday: virus

October 30th - Saturday: junkyard

October 31st - Sunday: no heaven for androids

Information and Rules:

The tag for this challenge is #dbhghostsinthemachine. Please use this tag for any of your contributions and follow it in case you want to see what other people do with the prompts

Any kind of art or writing is most welcome

You're free to choose any character or ship from the D:BH fandom (no OCs) you like

Show/Write what you want, but please make sure to tag your content correctly, so people who don't want nsfw/gore/a specific ship/whatever on their dash don't have to see it

Don't bash anybody for their chosen ship or content!

You can contribute more than one piece per day

Of course you can pick single prompts from the list, you don't have to do all of them if you don't want to

If you can't finish a submission in time, you can always post it belated

Not a rule, but I'd really appreciate if you'd tag me ( @connor-sent-by-cyberlife ) if you contribute something to this challenge

Reblogs to bring attention to this challenge would be highly appreciated

If you have any further questions, please feel free to ask

Thank you for your interest and support!

[hysterialevi]

Day 7 - Battlefield 

(fanfic below if you’re interested)

THE KNIGHT - An AC Valhalla oneshot

SOMEWHERE IN ENGLAND

Wicked was the man who reaped the souls of the innocent, a priest once told Eivor. He who spilt the blood of God’s children would one day know His wrath and be barred from the gates of Heaven, for he had fallen prey to the Devil’s song.

And yet, amongst this tattered field where naught but the dead roamed, Eivor found himself surrounded by the souls of his fallen brethren, slain by a so-called child of God. Fly-ridden piles of corpses decorated the haggard landscape like mountains made of flesh, and in the sky, he could see ravens circling above the carnage, scavenging any human remains.

It was unlike anything the viking had ever seen. Although this kingdom was no stranger to war, even he had to admit that this was an uncommon sight. Birds and insects alike feasted on the new bodies now littering the blood-soaked mud, and the pungent stench of death had burrowed itself so deep in Eivor’s throat that he felt as if he would suffocate.

This had to be the place. The one place in England where even the Northmen didn’t dare traverse.

It was the source of many frightful tales that Eivor had heard from the people in his clan, and very often, cryptic rumors of a lone knight would accompany their words. 

He knew not the identity of this knight, nor what they desired. All he had gathered was that they carried a raw hatred for anyone of his ilk, and would not hesitate to strike him down should they lay eyes upon him.

He would have to be on his guard here, no matter how barren this battlefield seemed. It was a death sentence for anyone bold enough to travel through these lands, but that was exactly why Eivor had to come. To put an end to this massacre.

Venturing further into the heart of the slaughter, Eivor wandered underneath a canopy of naked trees and trudged through the slick mud, searching for the knight as his horse whinnied nervously behind him. He felt as if he were being swallowed by the darkness that shrouded this forsaken arena, and with every passing minute, he could see the world outside dwindling away with the gathering fog.

An unsettling chill had befallen the mass tomb upon Eivor’s arrival, and up ahead, he spotted the faint silhouette of a kneeling man.

From where he stood, the viking couldn’t tell if the man was still alive. His body appeared to reflect the lifelessness of the environment around him, and his head hung low between his shoulders. A weathered sword stood proudly from the chest of a corpse lying before him, and at the hilt, the man’s hand rested motionlessly around the grip.

What really caught Eivor’s attention however, was the torn cape dangling from his back. By now, the blue fabric had been matted with the dirt and ash of a hundred other battles, but even then, he could still make out the ghost of a once prominent sigil. It was clearly of Saxon origin just as he suspected, and seemed to resemble the banners he often saw draping from Mercian walls.

This must have been the knight that everyone spoke of. Eivor had finally found him.

“...You there!” He called out, keeping a hand on his axe. “Can you hear me?”

At first, the man offered no response. 

“Hey!” Eivor persisted, carefully approaching him. “Saxon! Are you alive?”

Stirring with a twitch, the knight perked his head up upon hearing the viking’s voice and steadily broke free from his entranced state, turning to see who had visited him in this putrid wasteland. He still had yet to reply to Eivor’s calls using any words, but acknowledged him with a mere glance.

Watching the knight’s every move, Eivor stared in fascination as his opponent threw a gaze over their shoulder, revealing a face that was more akin to a skeleton than a warrior.

The Saxon’s once youthful and handsome visage had been replaced with the mask of death itself, leaving nothing unscathed except for the eyes. They sat in his sockets like a pair of empty glass orbs, and mirrored the desolation of the landscape he beheld. 

He appeared extremely frail in terms of physical strength, but carried a stern ferocity that was more than enough to hold Eivor in place. He glowered at the viking through strands of dark, tangled hair, and locked eyes with the man as if he were marking him as his next target.

It suddenly made sense to Eivor where all those tales came from. The Northmen often spoke of this particular knight in a way that painted him as a beast, and now, he couldn’t stifle the new pang of fear that was beginning to sprout in his chest.

Eivor took a few steps closer, careful not to provoke him.

“Can you understand me, Saxon? I’m looking for a Mercian warrior who is rumored to be killing Danes and Norse alike. Are you him? Is this all your doing?”

The knight squinted his eyes in a perplexed manner, undeniably surprised to see a viking in his company.

“...A Northman?” He whispered, his voice delicate yet haunting. “In this part of England? It’s been a long time since I’ve encountered any of your kind, pagan. Most of your people make an effort to avoid me.”

The knight pressed his foot against the ground and slowly rose from the mud, using his sword for support. Contrary to what Eivor expected, the Saxon proved to bear an incredibly tall stature unlike most of his people, and towered over the battlefield like a hallowed guardian.

“Begone, Northman,” the knight warned. “Return from whence you came. I have no desire to fight you.”

Eivor didn’t budge. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. Even if you spare me, you’ve been slaughtering every other Northerner who dared set foot on these lands. It must come to an end.”

His words earned nothing but a somber look from the other man.

“...The Danes ravaged everything I held dear, and robbed me of my soul when there was nothing left to take. If you truly wish to put an end to this needless war, then perhaps you should confront those whom you call ‘brother.”

The Wolf-Kissed held his tongue for the moment, not wishing to cross swords just yet.

“I’m not blind to the cruelty some of my people have displayed,” Eivor conceded, “but you inflict pain on those who had no part in your suffering. It isn’t right.”

The knight simply sighed and took hold of his sword, yanking it out of the body lying at his feet.

“Your judgement is immaterial to me, pagan. If I am to be condemned for my sins, then that will be an affair between me and God. But until that day comes, I shall remain here, and await death’s impending advent.”

Eivor gazed at the other man in pity, admittedly reluctant to kill him. Even though he was aware of his crimes, there was still something stopping him from attacking the soldier outright.

“Have you no life outside of this, Saxon?” He asked. “Why not leave this place, and put this crusade to rest? Surely, you tire of this pointless battle.”

The knight peered upwards at the murky grey sky, staring into the heavens as if he could see God himself. 

“...Where would I go?” He questioned, his tone gentle and forlorn. “I have no home to return to. No family left alive. The Northmen took all I had.”

“So, you’re doing this for revenge. Is that it?”

The Saxon shook his head. “No. My lust for vengeance was sated long ago. Those who wronged me have already met their fates. Now, I do this because it’s the only thing I can do.”

Eivor slid his axe out of its sheathe, steeling himself for battle. “...Well, whatever your reasons, I can’t allow you to continue.”

The knight glanced at the viking’s weapon, finally understanding why he had come. He showed no disappointment upon realizing Eivor’s intentions, but rather, a unique sense of sorrow. 

“...You wish to duel me, then.”

“You speak as if I do this for sport. I’m doing this to protect my people.”

The other man chuckled weakly, though not out of amusement.

“There truly is no greater threat to man than the delusion of one’s own heroics. Your people trespass on a lion’s den, and then complain when they are bitten. Such is the nature of the Northmen, I suppose, building their homes on top of the ashes of those they have scathed. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore.”

“Does that mean you view yourself as a hero, then?” Eivor wondered. “For slaying all these people?”

“No. I am well aware of the blood on my hands. Though, your slate is not exactly clean either, is it? I can see the remorse in your eyes. It’s etched into your face. Tell me, how many monasteries have suffered your wrath since you arrived in England? How many villages have you had to destroy so you could construct your own? How many men like me now reside in a similar hell because of your actions?”

The knight paused for a moment, looking down at his blade in thought. “...Ah, no matter. If this is the way it must end, then so be it. Whether it was God or Satan who led you here today, I do not know. But you are here for a reason nonetheless. And there is room yet for another corpse in this graveyard.”

Growing weary of this endless quarrel, the Saxon decided to grant Eivor with the bloodshed he sought and approached the center of the field, prowling towards him as his cape fluttered in the wind. The marred plates of his armor clanked quietly with every move he made, and soon enough, he was right there -- standing directly across from his opponent. 

For a moment, he was completely still. Not a single word was uttered from his lips, and only the hollow breeze was able to fill the profound silence that ensued.

After a while of contemplation however, the Saxon suddenly thew his blade to the ground and knelt beside it, presenting his head to the enemy before him. He showed no signs of putting up any kind of resistance, and to Eivor’s surprise, it seemed like he was actually asking for defeat.

“Wait,” Eivor blurted out, confused by the gesture, “you’re not even going to fight?”

“What would be the purpose?” The knight asked with a shrug. “I have been starved of all the strength I once possessed, and my sword-arm has withered in the face of this perpetual conflict. I know I would be no match for you.”

“Still, won’t you pick up your blade? Out of honor, I cannot cut a defenseless man down.”

The man’s voice softened with reassurance. “Discard your fears, Northman. Unlike your god, mine does not demand sacrifice in death. Only faith. The path I walk once I depart from this world will depend on that alone. You dishonor no one by smiting me.”

Eivor crouched in front of the knight, speaking to him at eye-level. He felt strange offering the man any empathy considering all the things he had done, but somehow, he just couldn’t bring himself to hate him. 

To the Wolf-Kissed, the knight was no monster or beast as the other Northerners had claimed. In truth, he was merely a man who had been ruined by the horrors of human cruelty, and left behind by those who promised to protect him. His heart had become rotten with decay thanks to the loss of his loved ones, and his soul had already fled for Heaven’s gates.

The only thing left for him to do... was to join it.

“What is your name, knight?” Eivor inquired.

The soldier’s striking blue eyes flicked upward at the question. “Does it matter? Soon, I will be dead, and my memories will be buried with me.”

“Indeed, which is why I ask. Our memories are a treasure, Saxon. They preserve everything we’ve experienced. If we are lucky, they will even outlive us. Do not let yours die out so willingly.”

“That is easy to say when you’ve led a good life. My memories deliver nothing but nightmares. They paint images that would make the Devil himself tremble. Had I the choice, I would give anything to forget the things I’ve seen.”

Eivor fell quiet for a second. “...Even who you are?”

The knight took his advice to heart, slouching in defeat. Even though his most recent memories were far from pleasant, it was clear that he still feared losing them entirely. He did not understand why he harbored this fear to begin with -- after all, he should’ve been glad to dispose of such horrors -- but he could not deny its presence nonetheless. 

Maybe it was because he had spent so long struggling in this war. Or maybe, it was because his identity was tied to it. Regardless of whatever the case was, a small part of him secretly hoped that Eivor would remember him once he was gone, and that he wouldn’t simply become another faceless corpse to add to the pile.

It was a peculiar way to preserve his legacy, leaving it in the hands of the enemy -- but the fact that his hardships would live on in the viking’s mind offered him a strange hint of solace that he would’ve never expected from a heathen.

“...Erian.” The knight finally answered. “My name was Erian.”

Eivor placed a hand on his shoulder, preparing to grant him his final wish.

“Then go to your god, Erian, and pray that he accepts you in the next life, wherever it may take you.”

“Wait...!” Erian gripped the Wolf-Kissed’s arm, halting him for the time being. 

“What is it?”

The Saxon glanced down at the ground, unsure of how to word his thoughts.

“...Why are you doing this? I’ve slain many of your warriors, and would have even killed you if I had the ability to do so. You have no reason to grant me mercy.”

“I... I don’t know, to be honest.” Eivor said sincerely. “Perhaps it’s because I’ve witnessed firsthand madness that can ensue when a man allows his hatred to run amok. Or perhaps it’s simply because I grow tired of all this suffering.”

“If that’s true, then you are already better than most. I only hope you will preach the same sentiment the next time your heart thirsts for plunder.”

Eivor nodded firmly. “I will. And I have.”

Erian loosened his grip on the other man’s wrist and shut his eyes, ready to depart at last. “Then I can go in peace, for I know my legacy remains with a compassionate soul. Goodbye, Northman, and thank you for blessing me with this final kindness.”

The viking positioned his axe above the knight’s collar, gently holding his head in place as he said one last thing.

“...Farewell, Erian.”

Yanking the blade away with a sharp tug, Eivor promptly opened the Saxon’s throat in one swift motion and cut his life short, cradling him in his arms until his body fell limp. The knight’s gaunt face was instantly wiped of all color, and soon, his expression dimmed with an ethereal fog that the Northman had seen far too many times before.

Yet, despite the morbidity of Erian’s death, the man radiated with a sense of tranquility that seemed to split the overwhelming darkness in this land. He appeared as if he were only sleeping, and resembled a child who had just been put to bed. 

Normally, the sight would’ve warmed Eivor’s heart to see someone basking in such contentment, but in this case, it provided only despair.

Had the war in England truly gotten so bad that its people found more comfort in the embrace of death itself? Was this the Northmen’s doing? 

Even though Eivor never intentionally caused needless tragedy to those he opposed, he couldn’t help but question if this invasion was really worth it anymore. He had already killed countless people for the sake of keeping Ravensthorpe on its feet, but with every victory he earned, he found it more and more difficult to convince himself that he was doing this for the greater good.

Though, Eivor supposed it was meaningless to doubt his motives now. The Raven Clan had achieved too much at this point to simply give up, and he knew Sigurd would never return to Fornburg after being stripped of his birthright. 

The best thing he could do now was try to keep his jarl from teetering over the edge, and remember people like Erian when hatred threatened to consume him. The fallen knight may not have been able to affect the world directly any longer, but his memory would serve as a reminder to never lose one’s humanity.

It may have been dangerous to offer his foes such a high level of empathy in times of war, but to Eivor, it was still better than having none at all. No seat in Valhalla would ever be worth the mindless slaughter he had witnessed during his time in Midgard, and the last thing he wanted was to become an empty husk filled with nothing but regrets.

It was a cost that only the cruel could afford, and a dream that only the naive chased. 

A dream of eternal glory.