Tales From Crashdown: Beowulf

Chapter 1: Dwellers Of The Past

The 1990s were the last great era of humanity. It was a time where the internet was becoming a mainstream piece, people would bond over the shared love of digital blood in video games and anime was finally becoming a mainstay in pop culture. However, all great things must come to an end, and this era came in terror.

From the depths of space came a massive craft of unknown origin, and it crashed into the grand canyon. Quickly, tech masters, keyboard warriors and basement barbarians raided the site and scrapped it to pieces within minutes.

The flood of advanced technology made its way to the hands of electronic acolytes of all forms and they merged it with the aesthetics of the early 1990s. Some fashioned devices of power, some sold secrets of the machinery to foreign powers, one man started a machine cult based around his protogen fursona named Bitchip.

In the remnants of what was once the greatest game development studio of all time, and the current home of a powerful hacker group, the Doom clan celebrate a successful hunt. The hunting party has just returned from the nearby woods, dragging in a boar of titanic proportions.

"Hear me!" Shouted Lord Romero, head of the clan. "In celebration of this wonderful beast, as well as successfully leaking the files from the computer of King Elton of the West, I propose a sacred celebration."

All the ears in the room stiffened in anticipation, all hoping for the same declaration.

The king shouted, "Tonight, we celebrate with a LAN party!"

They began to scramble, all running to their personal computers in the great PC Hall, many reclining their specialty designed chairs.

As Lord Romero rushed to his own gaming setup upon a central stage, the clan members booted up their favorite game. It was a nightly tradition that they had all participated in since the ancient days of 1993. They would gather around their computers and play a 128 person death match, many of which were randos online.

It was an exciting night for them all, enjoying the loud, booming explosions, the horrified deathcry as others died, the cracking of keyboards as they vented frustrations and even the unnecessary amount of profanity was a tradition to them. However, their merriment would soon be brought to a vicious end.

As Romero was preparing to once again win the nightly romp, there came a noise. It was a grumble, like barely coherent speech, followed by the calamitous boom of the massive steel doors swinging open.

The few warriors amongst them sprung at the sound, grabbing up their Thunder Spears, spears that pulsated with electricity.

They waited for a moment, all staring at the door to the hall. Bom, bom, bom.

The sound of what they assumed were two massive feet could be heard down the corridor. Bom, bom, bom.

Lord Romero readied his chain-katana, taking the stance passed down for generations, firmly planting his feet as he clasped the hilt of the blade on his hip. Bom, bom, bom.

All at once, the steel door burst off the hinges and it flew towards Lord Romero. However, Romero just barely split it in two, the pieces safely crashing into a couple of tech support workers.

The creature stepped into the doorframe, revealing itself. It stood as high as 3 whole men, a troll, the descendants of giants. Its skin was chapped and foggy, the eyes were an acidic yellow, the hair appeared sewn in, and the teeth, however few it had, were sharper than the teeth of a chain-blade.

The warriors tossed their spears, but they did not pierce or sting the troll's flesh. Quickly, they retreated back, narrowly avoiding the gangly arms. With a single swat, a dozen warriors blew against the walls.

It bound forward and plumitted onto more of the brawlers.

The combatants rushed it and tried to drive the tips of the spears through its heart, but the refined steel splintered against the beast.

It reached out and grabbed two people in each hand and chunked them into the crowd, collapsing a dozen others.

Lord Romero took the opportunity and leaped from the central stage and drew his chain-katana, slicing at the monster's neck.

When he landed, he realized the chain from his weapon had vanished and the monster was unscathed. He now understood what was happening. He cried out, "It's skin is invincible!"

The fighters retreated, gaining distance from the beast, except for Romero, who picked up the end of a busted spear.

Romero stood in anticipation, within the reach of the troll's arms, waiting to see what it would do.

Then, just as it began to raise its dripping hand, its stomach released a growl strong enough for Romero to feel it through the floor.

It began to sway back and forth, struggling to stand. So, it reached over and picked up a few of the corpses beneath its feet before strolling out.

Once the creature was out of the hall, Romero fell back, hitting his head on the shoe of another warrior.

The man whose foot Romero was laying on look down, "What was that‽" He cried.

Romero responded, "A troll. One unlike anything I'd ever see!" He rubbed his eyes, tired from the celebration and now the loss of adrenaline. "Seph, what's the damage?"

Seph looked around for a moment, looking at the motionless bodies of their friends against the walls and laying on the floor. He choked for a moment, "I.....I'd say 40."

Romero placed a hand over his eyes, "Here for two minutes and half our warriors die. If that thing had a midnight snack before coming here....."

Seph knocked his other foot against Romero's head. He asked, "What do we do now? I doubt that thing will be gone forever."

Romero stood and went to his computer, opening up an email draft. He began to type something, away from Sephs eyes.

Once the message was sent, Seph asked, "Who are you messaging?"

Romero swiveled in his chair to meet Sephs eyes. Confidently, he said, "I know a gal."