Beowulf was an Anglo-Saxon hero who had the strength of 30 men in the grip of his hands. When the monster Grendel was terrorizing the kingdom of Hrothgar, Beowulf volunteered to kill the monster. While sleeping in the king's mead hall, Beowulf pretended to sleep, and when Grendal attacked, he took the monster by surprise, grabbing hold of one of Grendals arms. After a long struggle Beowulf ripped the beasts arm off at the shoulder. Fleeing, Grendal eventully died from the wound. Later Grendal's mother taoke revenge, killing more of Hrothgar's men. Beowulf went to kill Grendal's mother as well. Eventully working his way into her layer, He fought her but his weapons could not harm her. However in the hoard of Grendals mother, Beowulf took The Sword of the Giant, the only eapon that could harm her, and cleved Grendal's mother's head in half. Hrothgar rewarded Beowulf with many tresures including Nægling, clamied to be the worlds greatest sword. Beowulf eventully returned to his home land and eventully became the king. After many years of wise ruling, a slave stole a cup from a Dragon, which sent the Dragon into a murderous rage. Beowulf, again went to kill another monster. However at almost 100 years old, he knew that this would be his last battle. Commsioning, a solid iron shield to resist the Dragon's fire, and weilding his great sword beowuld went to slay the Dragon. The final fight resulted in the death of both Beowulf and the Dragon, with his dying breath, he proclamied his loyal friend Wiglaf his successor and left him the Dragon's tresure hoard.
The scene opens up on thin mountain range. Hercules is walking along a path with his club slung over his shoulder. Beowulf appears from over a small ridge on the range. Seeing each other, Hercules pulls out his bow, and sends and arrow at Beowulf. Putting his sheild up, the arrow bounces harmlessly off it. Trying agains with the same results, Hercules draws his Hydra blood arrow and shots it. Again blocking it, Beowulf seems to think nothing of it, but vapors begin to rise from the ground. The vapors alone casue his skin to burn. Dropping his shield in pain, he draws his own bow. Hercules is now charging him with his club raised. Beowulf shots but is shocked to see it bounce off Hercules should. Shooting one last shot, which also fails, he picks up his sword. Hercules bares down on Beowulf and swings his club with all him might. Beowulf dodges just in time to avoid being hit but the stone beneth him shatters. Looking on in shock at the strength of his opponent, he quickly recovers and swing his sword at Hercules back, only for it to bounce off the Nemean lion skin. Hercules taking advantage of Beowulf's shock he swings his club at him. This time he cathes Beowulf in the center chest, sending him flying, knocking his sword out of his hands. Flying quiet a distance he skids along the stone and rolls part way off a cliff. Grabbing the ledge, he holds on and see's a small ledge below he drops down to it and starts working his way back around to where he started. Hercules walks to the edge club rasied to finish off his opponent. He finds nothing and looks confused, he is sure that he didn't fall. He looks over the edge and sees the ledge. Jumping down he follows it to find Beowulf.
Beowulf has made it back to his starting point and takes up the Sword of the Giant to replace his lost Nægling. Hearing rocks falling behind him he lloks to see Hercules hot on his trail. Heart pounding he charges Hercules, sword held high over his head. Hercules matches his foe and rasies his club. Beowulf swings his sword, cutting through Hercules club and cutting the Lion skin, and drawing blood. Now it's Hercules turn to look shocked, he's never seen anything pirece the Nemean lion's hide. Now the hide is hanging loose, most of it's cut completly off with a second swing from the Giants sword. Beowulf swings the sword again cutting deep into the cliff face. Seeing the power of the Ancient weapon, Hercules reliezes he needs a different tatic to deal with this new event. He runs up a narrow cliff face path, while Beowulf works to free the sword, it only takes a second but it's enough to gain a decent lead.
Beowulf follows Hercules up the narrow path, The large sword making it hard to trek easily. Hercules get's off the path and locates as large boulder. Beowulf comes around the the path looking around. He looks up to see Hercules getting ready to throw a giant boulder to crush him. Knowing he won't be able swing his sword in time he drops it and catches the giant rock. Hercules is surprised to see him catch it, but isn't in enough shock to not react. As Beowulf throws the boulder Hercules lands a and solid punch on Beowulfs face. It's not enough to seriosuly hurt him but enough to stun him. Using this chance Hercules gets behind Beowulf and wraps both of his arms around him and trys to crush him with his godly strength. Soon Hercules reliezes somthing is wrong. His grip is losening, he begins to see his amrs beig forced open. Beowulf is not only matching his strength but exceeding it. Beowulf breaks his grip and throws his own punch hard in Hercules stomach. Doubeling over in pain he turns his back to his foe. Rushing forward Beowulf grabs Hercules head. Grabbing Beowuld arms Hercules stuggles with his opponent. Wrapping his arm arounf Hercules neck and placing a hand on top of his head. Hercules is now hammering at Beowulfs arms with his fists. Beowulf jerks and with a sickening crack Hercules stops moving. As his oppoents body goes limp Beowuld lets goes and drops Hercules to the ground, his eyes still open. Beowulf bends over and picks up his foes body and rasies it high over his head. With Hercules limp body held high Beowulf walks over to the ledge and looks into a bottomless pit, Shouting in victory he throws Hercules broken body far out into the pit and watches it disapear into darkness. picking up The Sword of th Giant he rasies it high shouting loudly in victory.
I'm honestly shocked at the out come. While I was pulling for Beowulf I was certain that Hercules would have been at least the initial favorite. The general points for Beowulf's strength of 30 men in his hands outweighed Hercules' 10. The Sword of the Gaint was also a big factor as well, it's ability to cleave through Grendel's mother, seems to indicate that virtually nothing can stop it.
Battle vs. King Arthur (By CuchulainSetanta)Edit
On the shores of Britain, Beowulf arrives in a longboat, looking to test his skills in this strange land. Disembarking and heading inland, he comes across King Arthur, riding a warhorse, who had been alerted to a strange ship sighted of the coast. Seeing Beowulf, he calls to him. In answer, Beowulf readies a flaming arrow and fires at the warrior-king. Arthur is hit, but his armor deflects the arrow, putting out the fire as it impacts. Now angry, Arthur readies his lance and charges.
Beowulf leaps out of the way of the charge, bringing out his bearded axe as he does so. Turning around, Arthur readies his own bow and fires on Beowulf, who chops the arrow out of the air. Arthur charges again, but this time, instead of evading, Beowulf grabs the lance and pulls Arthur off his horse.
Getting back up, Arthur pulls out a war hammer and swings at Beowulf, who blocks the strike with his axe. Beowulf returns with a strike of his own, which Arthur dodges. Again, Arthur swings, but this time aims for the axe's shaft, breaking it in two. Furious, Beowulf unsheathes the Sword of Cain, while Arthur brings out Excalibur.
The two legendary swords clash again and again, neither warrior giving quarter. Eventually, however, Arthur tires from warding off Beowulf's strong blows, and the Dane sees and opening. Beowulf sweeps Arthurs legs out from under him, then pins him down. In his heavy armor, Arthur is helpless as Beowulf pulls out his sax and stabs Arthur in the neck. Holding his sword aloft, Beowulf shouts a victory cry.
The main factor that put Beowulf on top was his previous victories here on Deadliest Fiction. When someone is able to kill Hercules, not many can challenge them and come out victorious.
Battle vs. Aragorn (By Urbancommando77)Edit
Beowulf was walking through a forest with some of his men. He saw Aragorn and his men pulled their longbows out. They fired at them. Aragorn saw the arrows coming towards them. He warned his men and they raised their shields. Aragorn pulled out his ranger bow and fired an arrow into the chest of one of Beowulf's men. He fell down. The soldier then died. Aragorn pulled Andruil out and his men drew their Gondor blades. The soldiers charged toward eachother. One of Beowulfs men pulled a broad sword out and tried hitting one of the Gondor warriors, but missed. The soldier then tried stabbing the warrior, but Beowulf's warrior blocked quickly. He stabbed the soldier in the neck.
Aragorn was quickly attacked by the other two warriors. He blocked one hit from one of the soldiers, but the other slashed through aragorns leg. He fell to his knees, but knocked one of the warriors down. He rose to his feet and attacked the other warrior. The warrior blocked the heavy blow. He dropped the shield in pain, his arm was broken. Aragorn took this time to stab him and then cut through the other one's head.
Aragorn charged at Beowulf. Beowulf was about to be stabbed, but Aragorn cut his hand off. Aragorn groaned, and pulled his dagger out. Beowulf dropped Nægling and punched Aragorn in the face, knocking down. Aragorn struggled to get up, but did. Beowulf grabbed Aragorn by the neck and began choking him to death, but Aragorn stabbed him in the shin with the dagger. Beowulf fell but punched Aragorn in the chest. Aragorn fell and coughed up some blood. Beowulf grabbed Aragorns dagger and shoved it into Aragorn's mouth with all his power.
Beowulf roared in victory and grabbed Nægling and took Andruil as a trophy.
Beowulf's greater strength and superior weaponry contributed to his victory.
Battle vs. Achilles (by El Alamein)Edit
Sing, O Muses, of the wrath of Achilles…
Indomitable he woke, and fresh in rage, Achilles in his prime.
The walls of Troy were wan and dry, and death echoed from within.
Apollo’s glint shone from his noble head and glimmered in his eye,
His heavy step all but shook the earth
His grip all but stilled the wind
And his growl but calmed the sea.
Achilles’ gaze swept the barren land, and glared through the dusty waves
That rolled and parched the throats of men who languished from within.
“Onward, men!” the warlord roared, his blade held high in hand.
“Slay these Trojan dogs and wipe their very presence from the land!”
His Myrmidons were vicious, and eager to the teeth, armed up and down from head to toe
With blade and spear and axe and bow.
The very land on which Troy stood quivered at his approach
And the shouts of death intensified
As the Achaeans grew ever near.
The tall proud gates swung open, resistance stumbled out,
But the Myrmidons held firm.
“Leave no foolish mortal standing!” His face was washed in red,
With blood and bone and guts and skin hanging from his sword.
His heart was black with anger, his eyes flashed scorching flame,
And he turned back Trojan soldiers who had not fallen to his blows.
Achilles, born of war, let weapon slip and fall from hand, and
With fist and knee brought punishment to the foes still within his grasp.
Tangible panic swept the ranks of the Trojans still in march
Who turned and fled and left their slain
Crumbled in the dust.
“I am the beast of battle! No man has bested me yet! So come and bring your finest man to truly test my skill!”
Even as the blood of others dripped from the champion’s chin,
He knew not that the foe he bade approached from the North.
The son of Ecgþeow, the king’s own man,
Beowulf, he was, strength ripe in arm,
And alert and heightened of mind.
The devilspawn of the Danes was dead, the fiend, the horror,
Grendel, and his mother lay rotting too.
Hrunting high in hand, through the misty morn,
The warrior-prince strode bravely forward in search of his ruthless adversary.
The bane of man they said he was, a thousand men killed at his foot, the bones
Piling high in an altar of war.
His name was spoken in whispers, the sound brought fear to man, yet Beowulf roared to the sky
“Achilles! The great! Your hour is near! Sharpen your weapon, but tremble in dread! For your equal has come!”
His calm, cool stride matched not his ire
Or the quiver in his lip as his nostrils flared and he silently steeled his nerve.
The back-bent boughs of the wispy trees swayed slowly in the wind
But that was all to be heard save for Beowulf’s step in the boggy marsh.
Guided by God in mind and heart
He endured no qualms that his righteous journey was doomed to peril,
That it would be him to fall.
The ring-mail held through the dense, low shrubs where brambles skulked within
And his tough leather pants kept right at bay the gnats and flies
That sought to dine upon his flesh.
Well-armed and -armored the valiant warrior stood,
A proud and noble disposition hanging on his face
But deep within his mind ran fast to prepare himself for what lay ahead.
So quietly, and to himself, Beowulf made his final heartfelt prayer:
“Oh Lord, keep my mind firm and my arm stiff as I seek to end the war in South,
For there is much suffering there.”
The road to Troy was cracked, torn dust
Once paved, now derelict.
Yet Beowulf treaded with watchful eyes for the man he hunted,
Ready for any form of attack.
The morning sun shone with a bright orange glaze, and sparkled in the air
Over the warrior’s head as he squinted through the rolling waves of heat.
“Oh, Achilles, you god of war! Cause of a thousand deaths! Your butchery stops here and now!
Step out and face me, hand-to-hand! Test your muscle, might, and speed!”
Achilles sat in the dirt but looked with rapid rage
At the challenge unmistakably roared.
So he dove to his chariot and gripped the reins with an iron determination in hand.
“You Myrmidons! Beasts of battle! Fight strongly for your champion!
For when I return, I will have satisfied my yearn to prove myself unbeatable!”
A thousand cheers bid him goodbye, the vicious sacker of Troy,
And the chariot bounded up and down on the broken path below.
“Mysterious rival! I have heard your call! Your death is on the way!
So quick, prepare, lest I arrive, with sword in hand, and catch you unaware!”
The Greek’s reply hit no deaf ears, and Beowulf, courage in heart,
Made fast his run towards the source of sound from whence Achilles’ boast came.
An arrow nocked to his bowstring quivered as he peered into the sun.
The rumbling chariot stopped as its rider spotted foe
And hefted spear up high in hand.
The arrow flew true through the air but fell far of its mark.
With a hate-fueled thrust burning in anger,
The spearhead plunged into Beowulf’s thigh.
Raw, vicious pain surged through his mind and bit into his leg
But Beowulf snapped the shaft in half
With a downward strike from his palm.
The curse of Troy stood stone in shock, for his spear was bested by none,
And Hrunting slashed across his jaw and drew the champion’s blood.
Achilles’ teeth shone white with fury, arm swinging shield round
To slam edge-first into Beowulf, throwing him to the dirt.
His arm curled up and twitched in pain
But Beowulf righted himself and resumed the attack.
Blade clashed on shield, striking sparks, and shaking the ground below.
Achilles pushed for every inch but his mortal foe held firm
And rained hard blows that rang the bronze but failed to punch straight through.
In a burst of furious strength, Achilles beat Beowulf down
And leaped upon him, shortsword drawn, slashing at his throat.
The wound was grave, blood bubbled deep, but Beowulf choked through
And grabbed Achilles’ feathered helm and crashed it against his fist.
Ears ringing hard, the Greek fell back and the Dane stumbled to his feet
Dragging his foe as he stumbled again, claws dug into his shoulders.
Achilles roared in pain as Beowulf raked his nails through his flesh
But he brought his knuckles to the warrior’s nose
And his foot up to his chest.
“What a testament to my glory and strength! That I’ll have beaten a man like you!”
“You boast too soon, Son of Peleus! This battle’s mine to win! I’ll take you head and hold it high!
You’ll pay yet for your sins!”
So Beowulf wiped blood from his mouth and threw sword to the ground.
Achilles, laughing, mocked his foe but followed suit.
“Hand to hand? You daring fool! But that’s my gift of war!”
He grappled high to meet his foe’s hands, but the smirk melted from his face.
His rage dissipated in an instant
His strength was outmatched.
Beowulf roared and pushed down hard,
Achilles’ arms cracked and bent.
The Greek stumbled back, hit the ground, his elbows worn, and broke.
“I am God-driven vengeance! And you’ll pay for all, here and now!”
Hrunting flashed, but Achilles was strong, and his armor snapped the blade.
The iron shattered, piece by piece, but shards blanketed the broken man,
His face flecked with scarlet, blinded and crippled,
Plagued with all-consuming pain.
Beowulf’s arms clutched Achilles’ neck and squeezed firm and full of grit
And with a snap and an angry shove
He had vanquished the Trojan Menace.
“You see? All men must pay for time that they have stolen from the weak!
This corpse is now an empty shell! The legend is no more!”
Beowulf emerged the victor in this battle largely thanks to his immensely greater strength. While Achilles may have had more experience fighting other human foes in the Trojan War, Beowulf was far more prepared for superhuman combat thanks to his struggles with Grendel and his mother. Achilles' battle-fueled rage did temporarily boost his strength, but his arrogance and poor tactical skills betrayed him, allowing Beowulf's raw muscle to gain the upper hand, giving him the win.