Tales From Crashdown: Beowulf

Chapter 2: When Legends Are True

The night passed, the morning sun climbed the sky and the members of the Doom clan who survived began to repair the doors. They were cautious now, and Romero ordered for both sets of doors to be replaced by 5 ton gates. This would normally take weeks to construct and be put in place, but fear is a powerful motivator. Even the steel cooled faster than it should have.

Seph approached Romero and questioned, "Sir, you've just been sitting there and smirking for the last 15 hours, why are you so confident? Is it because of this 'gal' you emailed?"

Romero finally moved his head, his neck popping as he did. "Yes." He responded. "Her name is Beowulf."

That name echoed throughout the halls. Even Kyle, The Deaf shuttered as it was spoken.
Seph grabbed Romero by his ponytail, lifted him out of his chair, and cried "You're inviting a barbarian into the Doom clan sanctuary‽ She'll tear our walls down! She'll take our food! She'll steal our women! She'll click pop-up ads!"

Romero brushed the hand off before speaking. He said, "Normally you'd be right. She owes me a favor though, so she'll keep herself in line. If not, her allies will."

Seph raised an eyebrow, "Allies? I never knew those things could HAVE friends."

Romero shrugged, "I don't know if they're friends or just people she drags by their hair. I also don't care."

The doors at the beginning of the hall made a loud THUD as they flew open. A voice from the hall called out, "Do you have any idea how long it took us make those‽"

Without a moment of rest, the doors of the main chamber sprung open and crashed into the walls they were hinged too, cracking them severely as the wind they stirred caused some of the clan to fly upwards and bashed against the ceiling.
Before the clan stood 3 figures.

The first was shrouded by a white cloak, only being able to see his bony hands and a pair of yellow, thin antlers that creeped out of the hood.

The second stood to the opposite side as the first. He was slender, carrying his own chain-katana on his right side. His body was covered in bandages, much of which had a yellow tint and smudges of brown. Some may have thought he was a mummy that had risen, but those who looked closely would notice patches of brown skin poking out in some gaps.

The final was a large woman that stood in the middle of them. She wore no armor, wore no helmet, and wore only a pair of jeans with a t-shirt that had the logo of the band Sweet on it. Her hair only grew from the right side of her scalp, and the entire left side of her face was severely scarred, the marks running down your neck. The skin was thin and wrinkled on this scar.

The man with the chain-katana spoke up, "I TOLD her not to wear that outfit, but she refuses to wear anything professional."
The woman looked at him and laughed, "Ha! You're just upset that the vendor didn't have any Gloryhammer shirts."

The man became defensive, "They spun wonderful tales of cosmic tragedy! They DESERVE to be recognized!"

The cloaked venison spoke up, "Can we please just get this job over with before the two of you start this up again?"

Romero stood and coughed, "Ahem! I agree with Joe. Can we please figure this out before you two start argu-"

The bandaged man with the chain-katana blared out, "What the hell happened to the blade‽"

Romero looked at it on his hip. He had hoped nobody wouldn't notice. He, reluctantly, answered, "The chain disappeared when I tried to slash at it. I'm sorry, Master Riley."

Riley stepped forward and held out his hand before speaking. He said, "Hand it over."

Romero put the blade in his old master's hand. He became worried by the examination, knowing Riley to be rather nitpicky. He blurted out, "Your locks look fantastic, sir! I never thought you would grow your hair out!"