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We returned home to Geatland, and Hygelac (the king) welcomed us back home. I told him of my adventures slaying Grendel and Bertha. Hygelac wanted to know how we were treated by Hrothgar and his court. Two words, Hygelac: good time. I presented Hygelac with the mountain of treasure I had gotten from Hrothgar. (goodbye shiny things…) But he gave me a lot of it back and gave me land too! We were both very happy men.
Later down the road, Hygelac was killed in a battle, and I became king of the Geats. All that meant was I had more power, more people at my disposal, and grew out of my ridiculously large ego and acquired some humility.
But the peace was not to last.
An idiotic thief stole a golden cup from a dragon’s hoard, which caused the dragon to wreak havoc on my people and my lands. I knew something had to be done, but I was still too proud of my single-handed exploits against Grendel and Bertha to get my army to fight the beast of flame. Instead, I gathered eleven warriors to fight alongside me, although I secretly thought none of them would be brave enough to help me, no matter how brave of warriors they are.
It is a dragon after all.
To life or death we march. Wyrd will determine the course of the next few hours.