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hwaet hwaet in de ars?
Jan. 20th, 2012 04:18 pmSo I finally got around to seeing parts of the Beowulf movie. I thought I was going to hate it because it's a batch of clumsy CGI and over the top modern stuff instead of my beloved epic, but it turns out that I loved what I saw for that very reason. The epic is what early medieval Anglo Saxons thought of as totally badass over the top action which stretched all credibility. The movie is what 21st century Americans think of as totally badass over the top action which stretches all credibility, so it winds up being very true to the spirit of the original.
I also walked away from the over the top, somewhat unbelievable CGI going "What cool cutscenes! I really should try this Skyrim game everyone's been raving about."
"Okay, so I got a nat 20 for my grapple check. Does that critical? I'm gonna tear his head off."
"Uh... you don't tear his head off. The horrible monster endured a wound: the bone-locks of his shoulder gave way, and his sinews sprang out. The glory of battle went to Beowulf, and Grendel, mortally wounded, sought his sad home under the fen slope."
"Wait a minute. I follow him."
"The descendent of Cain, forsaken by Heaven, has a movement of 60' per round, mere mortals can only travel 30', and less over rough terrain."
"Fine. I got 28 for my Survival Check to track him."
"Um. The fated fugitive's bloody tracks led into the water-monster's mere. There bloody water boiled, a horrible swirl of waves mingled with hot gore. That doomed one had died, deprived of joy, in his fen refuge, his heathen soul taken into Hell."
"Yeah, well he's gotta have some pretty good stuff from the Geats in his lair. I'm going in."
"Uh... um. It takes Scyld-Scaefing's son, the glory-seeker, the better part of the day to find the bottom. What's your armor class?"
"Let's see, bright-helm with boar figures so that no sword could bite it in battle and a chainmail shirt. That's AC 25. Do I get to roll initiative now?"
"*sigh* The enemy seized the warrior in her horrid clutches, yet he was not injured--the ringed armor protected him, and she could not break his mail shirt with her hostile claws. What's your CMD?"
"Uh, 10."
"The sea wolf bore the armored warrior down to her dwelling at the bottom. You find yourself in a meadhall, about 80' long by 20' wide. Huge strands of grey-green fungi cling to the walls, their filiments entwined so close with age old knotworks that you can't tell where the carvings begin. You're in the center, here, fighting a giant troll with long stringy hair. She draws a dagger, long and brown-edged, to avenge her son, her only offspring."
"Wait, Grendel's mother? You're having me fight Grendel's mother? Oh man that is weak sauce."
"Look. You aren't high enough level to fight the dragon yet and you got lucky on a critical, this wasn't supposed to take only one session."
"Dragon?"
"Forget it. You're fighting a hideous lumbering troll matron."
"Does a 30 hit?"
"Yeah, but what're you using?"
"Unferth's war-heirloom Hrunting, an ancient treasure with edges of iron and adorned with poison strips."
"Dude. Unferth never gave you that. He hates you 'cause you said he was going to Hell for killing his brother."
"Unferth did so give me that. Remember last session when we were talking and he was too afraid of Grendel to stick around, so he gave me his sword instead?"
"Fine. She has DR 15 versus magic, DR 20 versus mundane weapons."
"Oh well this sucks. I look around the meadhall to see if there's anything better I can use. I got a 24 on my Perception check."
"The defender of the Danes sees a victory-blessed sword, an old sword made by giants with strong edges, the glory of warriors. It was the choicest of weapons, good and majestical, the work of giants, but larger than any other man could carry to battle sport."
"Awesome. I'll use that then."
"Okay, it's +5, but only +3 'cause you don't have a feat to use it, and it's... oh. Cold iron."
"So her DR doesn't count."
"I guess not."
...
"You mean the sword melts? Aw man, I liked that sword!"
"You still have Hrunting."
Beowulf translations by Dr. David Breeden at http://www.lone-star.net/literature/beowulf/
I also walked away from the over the top, somewhat unbelievable CGI going "What cool cutscenes! I really should try this Skyrim game everyone's been raving about."
"Okay, so I got a nat 20 for my grapple check. Does that critical? I'm gonna tear his head off."
"Uh... you don't tear his head off. The horrible monster endured a wound: the bone-locks of his shoulder gave way, and his sinews sprang out. The glory of battle went to Beowulf, and Grendel, mortally wounded, sought his sad home under the fen slope."
"Wait a minute. I follow him."
"The descendent of Cain, forsaken by Heaven, has a movement of 60' per round, mere mortals can only travel 30', and less over rough terrain."
"Fine. I got 28 for my Survival Check to track him."
"Um. The fated fugitive's bloody tracks led into the water-monster's mere. There bloody water boiled, a horrible swirl of waves mingled with hot gore. That doomed one had died, deprived of joy, in his fen refuge, his heathen soul taken into Hell."
"Yeah, well he's gotta have some pretty good stuff from the Geats in his lair. I'm going in."
"Uh... um. It takes Scyld-Scaefing's son, the glory-seeker, the better part of the day to find the bottom. What's your armor class?"
"Let's see, bright-helm with boar figures so that no sword could bite it in battle and a chainmail shirt. That's AC 25. Do I get to roll initiative now?"
"*sigh* The enemy seized the warrior in her horrid clutches, yet he was not injured--the ringed armor protected him, and she could not break his mail shirt with her hostile claws. What's your CMD?"
"Uh, 10."
"The sea wolf bore the armored warrior down to her dwelling at the bottom. You find yourself in a meadhall, about 80' long by 20' wide. Huge strands of grey-green fungi cling to the walls, their filiments entwined so close with age old knotworks that you can't tell where the carvings begin. You're in the center, here, fighting a giant troll with long stringy hair. She draws a dagger, long and brown-edged, to avenge her son, her only offspring."
"Wait, Grendel's mother? You're having me fight Grendel's mother? Oh man that is weak sauce."
"Look. You aren't high enough level to fight the dragon yet and you got lucky on a critical, this wasn't supposed to take only one session."
"Dragon?"
"Forget it. You're fighting a hideous lumbering troll matron."
"Does a 30 hit?"
"Yeah, but what're you using?"
"Unferth's war-heirloom Hrunting, an ancient treasure with edges of iron and adorned with poison strips."
"Dude. Unferth never gave you that. He hates you 'cause you said he was going to Hell for killing his brother."
"Unferth did so give me that. Remember last session when we were talking and he was too afraid of Grendel to stick around, so he gave me his sword instead?"
"Fine. She has DR 15 versus magic, DR 20 versus mundane weapons."
"Oh well this sucks. I look around the meadhall to see if there's anything better I can use. I got a 24 on my Perception check."
"The defender of the Danes sees a victory-blessed sword, an old sword made by giants with strong edges, the glory of warriors. It was the choicest of weapons, good and majestical, the work of giants, but larger than any other man could carry to battle sport."
"Awesome. I'll use that then."
"Okay, it's +5, but only +3 'cause you don't have a feat to use it, and it's... oh. Cold iron."
"So her DR doesn't count."
"I guess not."
...
"You mean the sword melts? Aw man, I liked that sword!"
"You still have Hrunting."
Beowulf translations by Dr. David Breeden at http://www.lone-star.net/literature/beowulf/