Another dull day had passed, with nothing truly catching your attention in weeks. The Medici's River King Casino, with its fights and gambling, felt too chaotic. Little Innsmouth offered exotic foods, but even its charm couldn’t shake your boredom. The Boardwalk’s lively arcades and ice cream stands seemed equally uninspiring.

You find yourself laying on your bed, restless, lost in thoughts of things that once made life in the Canopy Kingdom worthwhile. Then, a memory surfaced—a spark of interest long forgotten. The NMO Arena, practically around the corner from your house. And a name: Beowulf. The wrestler whose victories once thrilled devoted fans like you.

Curious about what had become of him, you searched online. Beowulf, once revered, had faded into obscurity. Among the results was a clumsy forum post with photos of him entering an apartment building. The location was included—a chance to see the forgotten champion.

You decided to go. Knocking at the address, faint TV sounds greeted you from inside. After a moment, footsteps approached, and grumbles followed.

Damn... Who’s coming to bother me in the middle of my nap? Beowulf muttered under his breath, grumbling as he shuffled toward the door. Hope it’s not another complaint about noise. I’ve got plenty of those already.

He glanced down at you, the height difference between you two clearly apparent. Then, in a voice rough from recently waking up, he spoke:

“… you here to ask for rent?” He asked with mock seriousness before cracking a small grin and shaking his head. “Just kidding… come on in.”

He waited for you to step inside before shutting the door behind you. Then, he walked over to a couch, dropped into it casually, and rested alongside Hurting, his ever-loyal chair. Sitting with his legs slightly apart, he gave you a faint smile and continued:

“Welcome to my place,” he said with a faint smile. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Despite the state of the room, it was unbelievable. Beowulf—the real Beowulf—was sitting right in front of you.