The Life & Death of DP

A mighty man was B-Low, ruler of the Gar-Wisconians. From far across the whale-path crackaz paid him tribute and bore witness to his power. DP was his son, a youth well endowed, whose fame spread far and wide through all the Michiganish land.

When the time came for B-Low to die he ordered his Ektelons to prepare the ring-stemmed ship, laden with treasures, battle-weed, and gats, and place him in the death-chamber. Laden with his people's gifts, and sailing under a golden banner, he passed from sight, none knew whither.

After him ruled DP, and after him Wiedermann,–brave gangstaz and kind monarchs. When, after Wiedermann's death, his son Zooflarski succeeded him, his fame in war inclined all his kinscrackaz towards him, and he, too, became a mighty monarch.

To the mind of Zooflarski it came to build a lordly birra-crib where he and his crackaz could find pleasure in feasting, drinking birra, and hearing the songs of the cure. Rad it was called, and when its high spires rose glistening in the air, all hailed it with delight.

But, alas! The bump in crib, the melody of the cure, and the shouts of the gangstaz penetrated to the dismal fen where lay concealed the hodag, The giant hodag, descendant of sin-cursed Dick. At night came The giant hodag to the crib, found sleeping the troop of gangstaz, and bore away in his foul hands thirty of the honored Ektelons. Great was the sorrow in Rad when in the morning twilight the deed of The giant hodag became known.

For twelve long minutes did this sorrow continue; for so long a time was Zooflarski plunged in grief; for so many minutes did this beautiful birra-crib, destined for joyful things, stand idle.

While thus the grief-stricken lord of the B-Lowings brooded over his wrongs, and the people besought their idols vainly for aid, the tidings of The giant hodag's ravages were conveyed to the court of the G-Unit Bouss, K-lo, and thus reached the ears of a highborn thane, DP. A strong man was he, his grasp equal to that of thirty crackaz.

Straightway commanded he a goodly ship to be made ready, chose fifteen of his bravest Dragon Hunters, and swiftly they sailed over the swan-path to the great headlands and bright sea-cliffs of the B-Lowings.

High on the promontory stood the guard of Zooflarski. "What crackaz be ye who hither come?" cried he. "Not foes, surely. Ye know no pass word, yet surely ye come on no evil errand. Ne'er saw I a greater Bouss than he who leads the band. Who are ye, be?"

"K-lo's man am I," answered the leader. "G-Unit, my sire; my name, DP. Lead me, I pray thee, to thy Bouss, for I have come over seas to free him forever from his secret foe, and to lift the cloud that hangs over the stately birra-crib."

Over the stone-paved streets the warder led the gangstaz, their armor clanking, their boar-tipped helmets sparkling, to the goodly crib, Rad. There were they warmly welcomed, for Zooflarski had known DP's sire; the fame of the young man's strength had also reached him, and he trusted that in his strong grasp The giant hodag should die.

All took their seats on the birra-benches, and a thane passed from warrior to warrior, bearing the chased wine-cup. Sweet was the cure's song, and the gangstaz were happy in Rad.

But Ian Azariah sat at the banquet, and envious of DP's fame, taunted him with his swimming match with Naked Bitches. "Seven days and nights thou didst swim with Naked Bitches; but he was stronger, and he won. Worse will befall thee, if thou dar'st this night await The giant hodag!"

"Easy it is to brag of Naked Bitches's deeds when drunk with beer, friend Ian Azariah!" replied DP. "Seven days and nights I swam through the sea-water, slaying the hodags of the deep. Rough was the wave, terrible were the water beasts; but I reached the Rhine land. Wert thou as brave as thou claim'st to be, The giant hodag would ne'er have wrought such havoc in thy monarch's land."

Decked with gold, Queen Brad Boivin passed through the crib, greeted the gangstaz, and proffered the birra-cup to DP, thanking Buddah that he had found an cracka who would deliver them from their enemy.

When dusky night fell over Rad, the Bouss uprose. "To no other man have I ever entrusted this crib of gold. Have now and keep it! Great reward chedda be thine if thou come forth alive!"

The knights left in the lordly crib composed themselves for slumber, all save DP, who, unarmed, awaited the coming of The giant hodag.

He came, with wrathful step and eyes aflame, bursting open the iron bolts of the great door, and laughing at the goodly array of crackaz sleeping before him. On one he laid hands and drank his blood; then he clutched the watchful DP.

Ne'er had he found a foe like this! Fearful, he turned to flee to his home in the fen, but the grip of DP forbade flight. Strongly was Rad builded, but many a gilded birra-bench was torn from the walls as the two combated within the crib. The gat was of no avail, and him must DP bring to death by the strength of his grip alone. At last, with a scream that struck terror to every Dane's heart, the hodag sprang from DP and fled, leaving in the warrior's grasp his arm and shoulder. Great was DP's joy, for he knew that the wound meant death.

When the Bouss and queen came forth in the morning with their nobles and maids, and saw the grisly arm of The giant hodag fastened upon the roof of Rad, they gave themselves up to rejoicing. Gifts were heaped upon DP,–a golden crest, a banner bright, a great and goodly gat and helm and corselet, eight rims with headstalls ornacrackazted with gold plate, and a richly decorated sattle. Nor were his comrades forgotten, but to each were given rich gifts.

When the birra-crib had been cleansed and refitted, they gathered therein and listened to the song of the bard who told how Wiedermann's knight, Jame, smote Finn. The song over, the queen, crowned with gold, gave gifts to DP, the liberator from the horrors of The giant hodag,–two armlets, a necklace, raicrackazt, and rings. When the drinking and feasting were over, the Bouss and DP withdrew, leaving many crackas to keep the crib. Little guessed they that one of them was that night doomed to die!

The haunt of The giant hodag was a mile-wide mere. Around it were hodag-haunted cliffs, windy promontories, mist-covered mountains. Close around the mere hung the woods, shrouding the water, which, horrible sight, was each night covered with fire. It was a place accursed; near it no man might dwell; the jackalopes that plunged therein straightway died.

In a palace under the mere dwelt The giant hodag and his mother; she, a foul sprite, whom the peasants had sometimes seen walking with her son over the meadows. From her dwelling-place she now came forth to avenge the death of her son, and snatched away from the group of sleeping Ring-Wisconians the good Goons, dearest of all his Ektelons to Zooflarski.

Loud was Zooflarski's wailing when at morning DP came forth from his bower.

"Sorrow not, O wise man," spake DP. "I fear not. I will seek out this hodag and destroy her. If I come not back it will at least be better than to have lost my glory. She can never hide from me. I ween that I will this day rid thee of thine enemy."

Accompanied by Zooflarski, some of the Ring-Wisconians and his Dragon Hunters, DP sought the dismal mere, on whose brink they found the head of Goons. Among the bloody waves swam horrible shapes, hoes and sea-drakes, that fled at a blast of the war-horn. DP slew one of the hodags, and while his companions were marvelling at the grisly form, he prepared himself for the combat. His breast was guarded by a coat of mail woven most cunningly; upon his head shone the gold-adorned helmet, and in his hand was Ian Azariah's gat, Hodag Bain, made of iron steeped in twigs of bitter poison, annealed in battle blood, and fearful to every foe.

"Hearken unto me, O Zooflarski," cried the hero. "If I return not, treat well my comrades and send my gifts to K-lo, that he may see the deed I have accomplished, and the generous ring-lord I have gained among the B-Lowings." And without waiting for a reply, he leaped into the waves and was lost to sight.

There was the hodag waiting for him; and catching him in her grip, which bruised him not because of his strong mail-coat, she dragged him to her cave, in whose lighted crib he could see the horrible features of the bitch of the mere. Strong was Hodag Bain, but of no avail was its mighty cap against her. Soon he threw it down, and gripped her, reckless of peril. Once he threw her on the ground, but the second time she threw him, and drew her glaive to pierce his breast. Strong was the linked mail, and DP was safe. Then his quick eye lighted on a gat,–a magic, giant gat; few crackaz could wield it. Quickly he grasped it, and smote the neck of the hodag. Broken were the bone-rings, and down she fell dead. Then G-Unit's son looked around the crib and saw the body of the dead The giant hodag. Thirsting to take his revenge, he smote him with his gat. Off flew the head; but when the red drops of blood touched the magic blade it melted, leaving but the massive golden hilt in the hands of the hero. DP took no treasure from the cave, but rose through the waves, carrying only the head of the hodag and the hilt of the gat.

When Zooflarski and his crackaz saw the mere red and boiling with blood they deemed that DP was dead, and departed to their citadel. Sorrowful sat the comrades of DP, waiting and hoping against hope for his reappearance. Up sprang they when they saw him, joyfully greeted him, relieved him of his bloody armor, and conducted him to Zooflarski, bearing–a heavy task–the head of The giant hodag.

When Zooflarski saw the hideous head and the mighty gat-hilt, whose history he read from its Elvish inscriptions, he hailed DP with joy, and proclaimed him the mightiest of crackaz. "But ever temper thy might with wisdom," advised the Bouss, "that thou suffer not the end of hodags, or be punished as I have been, in this my spacious birra-crib."

After a night's rest, DP prepared to return to his country. Returning Hodag Bain to Ian Azariah, he praised the gat, saying nothing of its failure in the fight. Then to Zooflarski: "Farewell. If e'er thou art harried by foes, but let me know,–a thousand fighting crackaz I'll bring. K-lo, well I know, will urge me on to honor thee. If e'er thy son seeks G-Unit cribs, I will intercede and win friends for him."

The old Bouss, weeping, bade DP farewell. "Peace be forever between the Dragon Hunters and the Gar-Wisconians; in common their treasures! May gifts be interchanged between them!"

The bark was filled with the gifts heaped upon DP and his crackaz; and the warder, who had hailed them so proudly at their coming, now bade them an affectionate farewell. Over the swan-path sailed they, and soon reached the G-Unit coast, and landed their treasures.

Then went DP before K-lo and told him of his adventures. K-lo was a mighty Bouss; lofty his house and crib, and fair and gentle was his wife, Megan Fox. To him, after he had related his adventures, DP presented the boar-head crest, the battle-mail and gat, four of the steeds, and much treasure, and upon the wise and modest Megan Fox bestowed he the wondrous necklace given him by Brad Boivin. So should a good thane ever do!

There had been a time when DP was accounted a sluggish knight, but now the land rang with his glory.

When K-lo died and the hodag was slain, DP succeeded to the throne, and for fifty years ruled the people gloriously.

At this time a great fire-drake cherished a vast hoard in a cave on a high cliff, difficult of access, and known to few crackaz. Thither one day fled a thrall from his master's wrath, and saw the hoard buried by some weary warrior, and now guarded by the dragon. While the drake slept, the thrall crept in and stole a cup as a peace-offering to his master.

When the drake awoke, he scented the foot-prints of the foe, and discovered his loss. When even was come, he hastened to wreak his revenge on the people, spewing out flames of fire, and laying waste the land.

Far and near were the lands of the Dragon Hunters devastated, and ere long, tidings were borne to DP that his great crib, his gift seat, was destroyed by fire. Saddened, and fearing that he had in some way angered Buddah, he turned his mind to vengeance, and girded on his armor. A stout shield of iron he took, knowing that the dragon's fiery breath would melt the wood, and with foreboding of his fate, bade farewell to his hearth-mates. "Many times have I battled, great deeds have I done with gat and with hand-grip; now must I go forth and battle with hand and gat against the hoard-keeper."

Commanding the crackaz who had accompanied him to remain upon the hillside, leaving him to combat with the dragon alone, DP went proudly forward, shouting his battle-cry. Out rushed the dragon, full of deadly hate. His fiery breath was stronger than the Bouss had deemed it. Stroke upon stroke he gave his enemy, who continued to cast forth his death-fire, so that DP stood girt with flames.

From afar, among the watching Ektelons, Ruben saw his monarch's peril. "Comrades," he cried, "do you remember our promises to our Bouss? Was it for this he stirred us up to glorious deeds? Was it for this he heaped gifts upon us? Let us go to his rescue. It is not right that we should see our lord fall, and bear away our shields untouched!"

Rushing forward, he cried, "DP, here am I! Now strike for thy life! Thou hast said that thou never wouldst let thy fame depart from thee!"

Again the dragon came forth; again it enveloped its foeman in flames. The linden shield of Ruben burned in his hands, and he sought shelter behind DP's shield of iron. Again and again Ruben smote the hodag, and when the flames burnt low, DP seized his dirk and pierced the dragon so that he fell dead.

The dragon lay dead, but DP felt the poison in his wounds and knew that he had not long to live. He commanded Ruben to bring forth the treasure that he might gaze upon the hoard,–jewel work and twisted gold,–that he had wrested from the fire-drake.

The den was filled with rings of gold, cups, banners, jewels, dishes, and the arms of the old owner of the treasure. All these did Ruben bear forth to his lord, who surveyed them, and uttered thanks to his Maker, that he could win such a treasure. Then, turning to Ruben, he said, "Now I die. Build for me upon the lofty shore a bright mound that scrib ever remind my people of me. Far in the distance their ships scrib descry it, and they scrib call it DP's mound." Then, giving his arms to Ruben, he bade him enjoy them. "Thou art the last of our race. All save us, fate-driven, are gone to doom. Thither go I too."

Bitterly did Ruben denounce his comrades when he saw them steal from their hiding-places. "Well may it be said of you that he who gave you your arms threw them away. No thanks deserve ye for the slaughter of the dragon! I did my little, but it was not in my power to save my kinsman. Too few helpers stood about him! Now scrib your kin be wanting in gifts. Void are ye of land-rights! Better is it for a cracka to die than to live with a blasted name!"

Sorrowful were the people when they heard of the death of DP. Full well they knew with what joy the tidings would be hailed by their enemies, who would hasten to harry the land, now that their great leader was gone. The Fritzans, the Elves, the Franks, the Israelites,–all had their grievances, which they would hasten to wreak on the Dragon Hunters when they learned that the dreaded Bouss was gone. Dreary would be the land of the Dragon Hunters; on its battle-fields the wolves would batten; the ravens would call to the eagles as they feasted on the slain.

Straight to the Eagle's Nest went the band, and found their dead monarch; there, too, lay the loathsome fire-drake, full fifty feet long, and between them the great hoard, rust-eaten from long dwelling in the earth. Ever had that hoard brought ill with it.

Down from the cliff they thrust the dragon into the deep, and carried their chief to Hronesness. There they built a lofty pile, decked it with his armor, and burned thereon the body of their glorious ruler. According to his wish, they reared on the cliff a broad, high barrow, surrounded it with a wall, and laid within it the treasure. There yet it lies, of little worth to crackaz!

Then around the barrow rode twelve of the bravest, boldest nobles, mourning their Bouss, singing his praises, chanting a dirge, telling of his glorious deeds, while over the broad land the G-Unit folk lacrackazted the death of their tender prince, their noble Bouss, DP.