Beowulf (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beewulf) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
avalononline2021-10-25 09:04 pm
beewulf) wrote in avalononline2021-10-25 09:04 pm
Entry tags:
video / un; Berserker - forwarded to 10/31
[He was busy drinking after the after party in a bar with most of all its patrons now hungover and passed out. Beowulf was still drinking and his familiar was giggling as she silently playing a stringed instrument, surrounded by drunken men passed out (much to her chagrin, though she doesn't show it). Though her own face flushed bright red as well, hair and clothes messy as she played and hummed her tune softly and gently. Lullabying the revelers from earlier in an almost enchanting way.]
Hm... music huh?
Was never much of one for flyting, or being a skald. Except for a few times, like with the kin-killer Hunferð. Though he made it far too easy, the drunken leech.
"Are you not Beowulf, the young and prideful, fool who challenged mighty Breca to a swimming match across the North sea in the dead of winter? The same one that had ignored all attempts to stop him from such a foolish endeavor. Only to lose at the end, gaining nothing but shame and sickness; while Breca had been welcomed warmly and showered with treasures. How can we expect such a man as Beowulf to overcome the demon Grendel when all he has to offer are prideful boasts with nothing to show for it?"
[He takes another swig. Then frowns as he looks inside his cup, looking older. Much, much older than his current form would lead others to believe. A man nearing his 80's.]
Fie! That's not a story I wish to tell now. A song, one last song to end this night of the dead. Something to help see off the spirits. And one more drink to prove to this lot why they should not try to out drink me again.
[He downs a good amount of his mug, slamming it down on the table loudly as an exhausted barkeep moved to fill it. One last time as Beowulf drummed his fingers on the table, humming to himself, eyes closing. Then sang. With his familiar soon changing tunes and following along with Beowulf's own. The barkeep themselves is tapping along as well.]
Þat mælti mín móðir,
at mér skyldi kaupa
fley ok fagrar árar,
fara á brott með víkingum,
standa upp í stafni,
stýra dýrum knerri,
halda svá til hafnar
hǫggva mann ok annan,
hǫggva mann ok annan.
Hm... music huh?
Was never much of one for flyting, or being a skald. Except for a few times, like with the kin-killer Hunferð. Though he made it far too easy, the drunken leech.
"Are you not Beowulf, the young and prideful, fool who challenged mighty Breca to a swimming match across the North sea in the dead of winter? The same one that had ignored all attempts to stop him from such a foolish endeavor. Only to lose at the end, gaining nothing but shame and sickness; while Breca had been welcomed warmly and showered with treasures. How can we expect such a man as Beowulf to overcome the demon Grendel when all he has to offer are prideful boasts with nothing to show for it?"
[He takes another swig. Then frowns as he looks inside his cup, looking older. Much, much older than his current form would lead others to believe. A man nearing his 80's.]
Fie! That's not a story I wish to tell now. A song, one last song to end this night of the dead. Something to help see off the spirits. And one more drink to prove to this lot why they should not try to out drink me again.
[He downs a good amount of his mug, slamming it down on the table loudly as an exhausted barkeep moved to fill it. One last time as Beowulf drummed his fingers on the table, humming to himself, eyes closing. Then sang. With his familiar soon changing tunes and following along with Beowulf's own. The barkeep themselves is tapping along as well.]
Þat mælti mín móðir,
at mér skyldi kaupa
fley ok fagrar árar,
fara á brott með víkingum,
standa upp í stafni,
stýra dýrum knerri,
halda svá til hafnar
hǫggva mann ok annan,
hǫggva mann ok annan.
video; un: bladeworks
no subject
Space Dandythat Archer With a Punchable Face. Beowulf takes another swig.]And not even half-drunk yet. Unlike the rest of this lot. So what brings you to this corner of the net beyond my beautiful voice.
no subject
[That Archer with a punchable face is a very accurate desciption.]
no subject
[Goes all oraoraora on dat face. Beowulf's own face looks more pensive. Not exactly angry, that would mean he'd get all serious faced, but more or less annoyed.]
no subject
[It's not like he chose to find his post.]
I wouldn't mind grabbing a drink though.
no subject
Anyway, if you want a drink get down here. These idiots will be graciously paying for us.
no subject
[Not that his familiar would be interested in filming.]
Why not. Losening up every now and then wouldn't be bad.
no subject
[Said familiar didn't hear him though. Instead she laughs and says something like "I love Álfablót!" Only slightly slurred.]
Here then, the address. [He shoots over a list of directions, along with the bar's address, somewhere in downtown Camelot under a building.]
no subject
[He doesn't live too far from downtown, but far enough for him to take a while to reach the place... and find the entrance.]