#NaPoWriMo Day 2 : Banshee

He heard echoes of the dark cries of a Banshee being blown away by a breezy zephyr alongside his burning bones and venomous soul. Balder son of Odin who owns a glossy beaked raven. Son of the god of poetry who gave me a sip of poetic mead.

"What dire fate makes you call on me who have left the quick world and lie in the mound?”

Furious wanderer.

Your name shall be called by every warrior on every battlefield.
Written on every of the nine servants whom you made kill themselves with their scythes.

The banshee cries. It cries out for you Odin,
The power that this king doth posess. Greed. Mad.
Furious wanderer.