Beowulf as told by Yokai-chan
Part 1: Heorot
The little sign above the shop-front read "Heorot" and nothing more to advertise the ancient pub. On a normal Saturday night the small bar would have been bustling, but tonight it was ominously empty. The establishment hosted only six of what should have been thirty patrons tonight, four at the actual bar counter and two sitting at a table in the corner next to the billiards table.
"We're screwed," said the first man at the corner-table to the second as they sat slowly sipping their beers and mumbling the night away. "I can't believe you even dragged me out here tonight. Going to any bar in this town anymore is almost fucking suicidal." He glanced around suspiciously.
"Yer over-reacting," said the second man quietly. "We've been coming here forever—since we were twenty-one. Hell, before we were twenty-one! Remember those terrible fake ID's, man? I always swore that we were gonna get caught, but you always were the brave one. And we never did, ya know? Now look at you! Chill, man." He nudged his friend to get him to stop glancing nervously over his shoulder. "Stop being such a basket case!"
"Shut up. I just don't wanna be killed by that demon or whatever he is." He reflexively checked behind him again.
"'Demon'?" said the twitchy man's friend, raising his eyebrows incredulously and chuckling. "Jack, dude, don't tell me you believe all those…myths."
"So, you don't believe all the stories?" Jack whispered angrily. He looked almost betrayed.
"Hell no, and please don't tell me you believe all that shit people make up! I never woulda pegged you for someone to fall for a bunch of crappy ghost stories. Please tell me yer kidding…" He looked at his friend like a dismayed parent, slowly shaking his head. "Grendel's a psycho, but he's human. I promise. Shit like that just doesn't exist."
"Mel," said Jack, staring intently into the other man's opal eyes, "I met a guy who survived one of his attacks here. Said that Grendel's like nothing anyone's ever seen: he's got long black hair and red-orange eyes. His skin's gray and he's got pointy ears like an elf. And fangs. Claws and fangs. And he carries this giant sword like a samurai—,"
At this point Mel couldn't contain himself any longer and burst into a roar of hysterical laughter. "Dude, you need to stop playing WoW now," he guffawed, "and are you high right now? You're acting like you're high." His body shook as the laughter spiraled into silent giggles; a few tears streamed down his cheeks as he struggled to get his mirth under control.
"It's not funny, you ass!" Jack screamed, slamming his fists down on the old table and jumping up. "Everyone in this fucking town knows that Grendel's a fucking monster and if we don't do something about it we're all gonna get killed! He wipes bars and establishments out one at a time and he's tried a couple times here—and he NEVER stops until he's finished the job! NEVER! Coming here is playing with our lives! Sometimes I think LIVING in this TOWN is plain fucking crazy! Some say he wants to take the whole city over!"
By now every soul in the little tavern, whether sober or drunk out of their mind, turned to stare at the shrieking young man in the corner, waving and pounding his fists and spewing profanities at his friend. The place remained deathly quiet for a few awkward seconds after the outburst.
"Wow," said the young woman behind the bar, still holding a glass for an order taking before the yelling. "Take the whole city…?"
"Yes!" squawked Jack. "And don't you all start calling me crazy now! I'm not!"
Mel simply looked at his friend like he'd lost it.
"I thought he just wanted chaos," mused the girl, seemingly unfazed at being yelled at. As a bartender she had to deal with a lot. "I never thought he was actually planning something."
"What do you know about him?" asked Jack sheepishly, now feeling guilty about snapping at her. She was, in fact, lending credibility to his strange rant.
"Mmm, not much," she admitted. "I've only seen him once and I was trying to hide at the time. But you're right about the hair and the sword. And the way he moves—he is most definitely not human. Or at least not like anyone I've ever seen…" she trailed off, still staying surprisingly calm.
"You saw him?" gasped Jack.
"He has attacked here before. And I do work here," said the bartender. "And yes, last week he attacked when I was here. Killed three men while I hid behind the counter." Her eyes momentarily flashed pain and fear through her tough façade, so quickly one had to wonder if they'd actually see it or if they simply wanted to.
"And you came back?" said Mel.
"I need the money," said the bartender softly, turning slightly away. "And…and I hear he usually doesn't kill women…unless they fight back."
"You're still a brave girl indeed!" said an old man at the counter, draining his glass. "I'll have another."
"Jack Daniels again?" the lady muttered.
"Of course, my dear," the old man replied.
"A chivalrous devil?" muttered Mel so softly only Jack could hear.
"Yeah right," replied his friend. "That chick's just lucky."