Hellstorm brings you a vicious and bloodshedding battle between some of the strongest and most durable swordsmen in fiction! Beowulf, slayer of Grendel and his mother, and the king of Geatland and hero of Zealand, goes against Achilles, nearly invincible man and killer of thousands of Trojans! These two brawlers will do battle, but only one will come out victorious as, THE DEADLIEST WARRIOR!
Beowulf (represented by the Doctor)[]
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, killing him. Grendal's mother took revenge, killing more of Hrothgar's men. Eventually working his way into her layer, Beowulf fought her but his weapons could not harm her. However in the hoard of Grendal's mother, Beowulf took The Sword of the Giant, the only weapon that could harm her, and cleaved Grendal's mother's head in half. Hrothgar rewarded Beowulf with many treasures including Nægling, claimed to be the worlds greatest sword. Beowulf eventually returned to his home land and eventually 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. Commissioning, a solid iron shield to resist the Dragon's fire, and wielding his great sword Beowulf went to slay the Dragon. The final fight resulted in the death of both Beowulf and the Dragon, with his dying breath, he proclaimed his loyal friend Wiglaf his successor and left him the Dragon's treasure hoard.
| Category | Item |
|---|---|
| Armor | Ring and chainmail armor |
| Primary | Nægling |
| Secondary | Hrunting |
| Special | Long Bow |
| X-Factor | Strength of 30 Men |
Achilles (represented by the Fury o' the Desert)[]
Achilles was born of the sea nymph Thetis and a mortal king, Peleus. As a baby, Achilles was dipped in the River Styx by his mother, which made every part of his body under the water invulnerable to harm from human weapons, except for the spot where his mother held him from, his heel. Later, Achilles fought at the Trojan War and killed hundreds and even thousands of men, including the Trojan prince Hector. Howeve, the cowadly Trojan prince Paris shot him with a bow from afar and it hit Achilles in his heel, which killed him.
| Category | Item |
|---|---|
| Armor | Special Hoplite armor |
| Primary | Special Spear |
| Secondary | Xiphos |
| Special | Shield of Achilles |
| X-Factor | Sing, O Muses, of the wrath of Achilles |
X-Factors[]
Consider these following X-Factors when casting your vote:
Psychological Warfare
Which warrior is more mentally susceptible to the other's attacks?
Strategy
Which warrior can form a more solid game-plan beforehand, and which warrior is more adaptable to changing their plans if things go south?
Combat Experience
Which warrior has more experience fighting other combat-capable warriors?
Endurance
Which warrior can sustain physical damage for a longer amount of time before giving in?
Intelligence
Which warrior is more intelligent in the battle space? Which warrior will be able to figure out their foe and exploit their weaknesses first?
Creativity
Which warrior will be able to use the environment and any other X-Factors in the area to their advantage more successfully?
Weapon Use
Which warrior is more skilled in the usage of their weapons?
Brutality
Which warrior is more physically brutal in the battle space?
Battle[]
Sing, O Muses, of the wrath of Achilles…
I
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.
II
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.”
III
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!”
Expert's Opinion[]
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.
voting[]
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