[ WP ] You are an immortal who stopped aging at 25 and have been alive for over 1000 years . On the day you turned 25 you received a prophecy that you would kill another immortal or they would kill you . You find the other immortal , who has only lived for 50 years in the year 2017 .

The streets of Stockholm bustled with a new day ’ s crowds. Men and women darted to and fro as they did in any other city, waiting for their day to be over. The summer had brought with it a new wave of warmth, and a respite from the cold for the people of the city. One man sat apart from his peers. Instead of the fanciful dress that the prominently wealthy citizenry of the 18th century wore, this man ’ s body was covered only by rags and animal pelts. The shadows of the tall buildings around him hid him well enough from any wandering eyes. But nothing could hide him from the person he was watching. 
 
 The man sat down with his legs crossed, a long, bright blonde beard rolling off of his face. His hair, the same bright blonde, reached his shoulders; it was shaggy, and looked like it hadn ’ t been washed since the last rainstorm. 
 
 Hadvar was born in the year 742. He had served under the legendary Chief of the tribe of Svithjod, Sigurd Hring; and he had served under his son after that, and his son after that. He knew what was coming after all these years. Someone would come for him. He had been told as much. Another like him, undying, would come and kill him. Or he would kill them. And they had finally come for him. 
 
 Far down the road, maybe 500 meters, stood a man. He was an American, fresh from his war for independence, though his dark skin gave his true origins away. His hair was cut close to his head, making him nearly bald. He wore a heavy duster coat, and a pistol hung from his waist. He would have had a rifle if he could carry one in public. 
 
 Hadvar knew almost without looking that this was the man he would have to kill. Through all his years, and despite his upbringing, he had grown to dislike violence for the sake of violence. He had spent his youth raiding and killing in the name of his gods and his Viking Kings; once he had had his fill of women and gold, the prospect of killing simply because he felt the urge had grown distasteful. But this was not for no reason. He had to stay alive, and this was the only way. 
 
 The dark-skinned man began his way towards Hadvar. He walked slowly, looking around at the buildings and trees around him. The port was nearby and the man took deep breaths of the ocean air. The man walked nearby Hadvar and stopped, looking down at the man. He offered a hand. 
 
 Hadvar took it, pulling himself off the ground, and almost pulling the man down to it. Hadvar searched for the English words before speaking, “ Thank you, Sir. ” His accent was deep and thick, nothing like the almost foreign voices that his ‘ countrymen ’ wore today. 
 
 “ You ’ re very welcome; doesn ’ t seem like the most comfortable place to stay seated, ” the man ’ s accent was almost like a British one, but less exaggerated. He spoke each word carefully before moving on to the next, like it was not his native tongue, “ You seem like the most interesting person I ’ ve met here so far. What say you we stick to each other for a while? ” 
 
 Hadvar gave no visual response, but screamed at the walls of his mind,'Just come out with it! We both know what we need to do, and we both know that the other knows! Don ’ t play games like this!' 
 
 “ No. You know as well as I do why you came here. I ’ m ready to finish this, and I ’ ll be waiting for you when you are as well, ” Hadvar pointed towards a hill just outside the city, large enough to be seen overtop the buildings. 
 
 The man stared, confused, at Hadvar as he walked away, stomping towards the hill, “ What are you going on about? ” called the man, but no response came. Reluctantly, he began his way towards the hill, albeit through a different path. 
 ________________________________________________________________ 
 
 Bradley Attox milled his way through the streets of Stockholm, searching for the path to a hill. Whoever that man had been was certainly too intriguing to give up on seeing before he passed away. In all his hundred and twenty one years, Attox had never seen a man he was more curious about. Something about the man felt familiar, like they shared some connection. He couldn ’ t ignore it. 
 
 Attox was once a slave in Virginia, but like many others, had volunteered to fight in the war against Britain, and earned his freedom. He had been exploring ever since, and that had brought him to Sweden. 
 
 It was nearing the nighttime when Attox finally reached the hill. It had been quite the climb to the top; nearly half a mile straight up. The man in the animal skins was waiting; he sat cross-legged on the crest of the hill, in the same position Attox had first found him. 
 
 “ I ’ m here. What now? ” Attox panted from the long uphill trek. 
 
 “ I am Hadvar. And I share in your ability. And you know as well as I do that one of us must die for the other to continue to live, ” it was only now that Attox realized Hadvar was wearing two large, wicked looking axes on his belt; Attox reached for his pistol instinctively. 
 
 “ Wait so…you ’ re going to try and kill me? With a couple of axes? ” Attox scoffed internally. 
 
 “ You have your weapons of choice, and I have mine. Will you agree to holmgang? ” 
 
 “ Holmgang? I ’ ve never even heard of it, ” Attox gripped the weapon strapped to his waist. His other hand drifted towards the knife in his duster. 
 
 “ A ritual duel to appease the gods. I ’ ve been alive much longer than you, young blood. My traditions have outlived both of us a thousand times over, ” Hadvar stood, hands of the hafts of his axes, “ Will you agree to holmgang or won ’ t you? Either way, you must die. ” 
 
 “ Fine; I ’ ll agree. But tell me why you ’ re doing this at the very least, ” Attox drew his pistol and knife, and dropped into a crouch. 
 
 “ Because if I don ’ t, you ’ ll kill me. ” 
 
 With that, Hadvar ran forward, pulling his axes out of his belt, closing the distance between the two quickly. A loud shot rang out, and Hadvar crumpled to the ground. Attox ’ s gun was smoking. 

