Writing this tale, I have had it placed upon myself to pen the exploits of one who came long ago, in a place far, far away even. From the highest authority I take this honored commission. Harper’s band is one whose place in history will no doubt be held in highest esteem. From the chiseled men to fair ladies, individuals of such caliber are rarely found in any other section from the honored students of Missouri. Alright, well that was fun. Can we do this? Good.
In days past gone by we have all heard of the exploits of those heroes we’ve held so dear. But out of the darkness there rose one who would conquer all. Mark, Spitz’s son, bore the holy stache of Thomas Sell’s Ecks and with its help conquered the many summer nations whilst garnering for himself seven golden rings of power. However, as all great heroes, there would be one who would reach for more in the defense of hope, freedom, and all that is good in the world.
In the high hall of Eternia, a great celebration united the summer peoples. They sang praises to the arbiters of freedom and happiness everywhere. But one night, there came a roving monster whose name haunts the memories of little children everywhere. His name was Eddy van Colen and his sullen attitude was only matched by his stalker personality. He was able to bewitch a few innocent females with his skin that shined in the sunlight but as many would soon find, he was a much more serious threat than anyone would realize. As he loped through Castle Grayskull, he would frequently take three hundred females under his spell of insidious creepiness. The other champions of the summer nations were perplexed. Great men and women in their own right, yet no one would yet stand against Van Colen’s reign of tyranny. In those days there was a champion of Guilder strong of heart but much more so his torso. His abdomen stretched as long as the amber waves of grain from whence he came. He came for the rings of power, he stayed for the Cole. His name was Beofelps.
“Have you come to meet our plight, and if so for what cause?” queried the high lord of Castle Greyskull. For Beofelps was not know who this man was except from echoed rumors across the lands.
To the mighty thane, the prince answered, “My name is Beofelps, pool-breaker, and I hail from the land of millet wheat and come on command from my Guild-lord that I may rid your people of this great evil. Indeed I swam here myself with fifty coats of mail armor to prove my strength. That not being enough, I was impeded by the shrieking eels near my land of Guilder. However, having made it thus far, I am now bent on conquering this sickly menace of your people.”
With this exchange, the people of the summer nations took their places to watch the festivities, namely the passing of the flame-brand. Closely following were song and dance lauding the rich tradition of Castle Grayskull and its mighty king of old, He-Man.
He-Man was the best of men, irony ignored,
His war with Skeletor none could be bored,
Yet time hence came
For all his fame,
To burn with him, his house, his sword.
That night, all went to sleep and Beofelps took his place to await the monster Van Colen. Sure enough, the monster creeped into the high hall of Grayskull looking for his next meal of teenage girl age 13-16 preferably. Spying one, he floated over her to partake when suddenly the mighty Guilding lord rose from the bench and beset upon the pale fiend. Finding himself attacked by one who had the strength to defeat him, Van Colen went into a mad frenzy, gnawing and biting Beofelps in an attempt to break the Guilding’s death grip. In the end though, the monster’s creepiness and overly-gelled hair failed him and he felt his horrid strength ebbing away under the power harnessed by the mighty lord’s eight-pack. As they struggled on, the evil one’s arm started to snap at the elbow, his forearm went purple, and his fingers went purple. At this, the pansy demon yelped a howl of pain that echoed through Grayskull and all the land surrounding. In truth, even the heaviest sleepers in their bed chambers were awoken to the death cries of Van Colen. Yet in that moment, the monster slipped away and having left his arm behind in the vice-like hands of Beofelps, retreated across the rocky land of the ancient Hellenes, crying as he went as so many young girls he had fooled previous.
The next morning brought cries of joy from the people of Grayskull who were so happy to be rid of such an evil from their land. Beofelps, seemed to be the only one disheartened that he had allowed the beast to leave, though so mortally wounded. That day, the people had another feast celebrating their new-found freedom and sang more songs praising the achievements of Beofelps,
Beofelps, a mighty king, none will know his match!
Beofelps, our liberator, who next will he dispatch?
There be none ought,
Who carries a thought,
How Van Colen’s arm will reattach!
Yet, that very night, another atrocity would come creeping around Castle Grayskull in the form of Jolly Ingeldina. This mother of Van Colen was vengeful at the loss of her son and sought to rectify the pain she felt by seeking out the one who ended his life. Beofelps slept there with his companions, unaware another fiend stalked the night. Coming upon one of Grayskull’s great thanes, Ingeldina grabbed him and killed him. At that time, Beofelps had been away and only arrived to see the monster run off with Van Colen’s bloodied arm.
Following hot on her heels, Beofelps chased Ingeldina to her forbidden abode. There he entered, dressed in the finest armor of his clansmen. This forsaken cavern was filled with water but Beofelps entered bravely. As he entered the water, he could hear the other children of Ingeldina squirming about just beneath the surface. Whether she had born them screaming into this world or had simply adopted them from a more unfortunate family, Beofelps wasn’t sure. At that moment, he was grasped by Ingeldina with a myriad of her kind dragging the high lord down to her dreary depths. Yet, were Beofelps not so equipped as to deal with such a disparaging end, he would surely have slept the rest of eternity beneath the waves. Yet Beofelps pool-breaker was already so accustomed to the water that had Ingeldina known, she might have kept him above her dark pool. So in her lock she tried to drown the hero, with her hands she tried to squeeze from him his life-breath. Yet he tore loose and struck with his blade, Grunting, trying to spill her life-blood. Yet his blade failed him and he was forced to grab a blade of immense size, some say even bigger than he was, from ages long past. With it he struck Ingeldina down and carried Grendel’s head back to Graskull as his prize. When he returned, the lord of Castle Grayskull heaped upon Beofelps and his men many gifts. Among them, were eight golden rings given specifically to Beofelps. In this way, he overcame his ancestor and accomplished the legacy of many who walked before him.
So ends the tale of Beofelps’ journey to Grayskull. In his home of Guilder, Beofelps took his rightful place as king and reigned a lifetime. At the end of his life, Beofelps would indeed meet his nemesis. In those days, there lived a dragon named Bong who would terrorize the countryside but as of late made it his practice to sit upon his treasure trove breathing his own smoke.
However, there was a youth named Bimbo who often liked to play amongst the rock outcroppings. In a moment of misfortune, he happened upon an opening into Bong’s lair and found a small ring that glowed with red fire. Taking it for his own, he never thought that the great worm would realize its disappearance. Yet, in the morning, when Bong awoke, in its accounting the beast roared with great fury and burst from its home with a burst of flame that set Guilder aflame.
In his golden hall, Beofelps heard the dragon’s fury. Raising his now wearied head, Beofelps raised a hand to silence those near him from reaching into panic. Having seen his battle-beaten fingers held aloft, they awaited for him to break the silence with a single word. Yet none came. Silently, Beofelps, grayed and wrinkled with the passage of time, took up his sword Grunting and waited for his squire to bring forth the armor that would protect him in battle. Looking down, Beofelps beheld the youth Bimbo, his squire and the very same individual who had caused Guilder’s calamity.
“My young friend, I go to battle. What shall it be for you?”
“Till the end, my lord. I wish it need not have happened in my time.”
“Is that so? So do all who see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you. Truly, truly, I say to you, this fight shall not be your end. Nor is it even yours to undertake.”
“My lord if it is all the same to you, may I at least join you as you go out to face the fiend?”
“Bimbo, I shall not be so heartless as to dampen the fervor with which you would fight, but stay near me and my shield may guard us both. I fear I may have met an enemy to finally defeat me. Heaven knows I’ve had trouble with smoke before, this Bong may be the end of me yet.”
With that, Beofelps and Bimbo set out to face the dragon and it was not long before the monster saw them coming. With a wide breath of fire, the rock they stood upon was set alight and the two warriors of Guilder were hemmed in on all sides. As Bong took another pass, Beofelps clipped it in the leg and brought the beast crashing to the earth. However, as it righted itself the dragon came bursting over straight for the shield behind which both men stood. Though catching most of the flame-breath on his shield, Beofelps was overcome by the flames that encircled his armor. Whilst the poisonous breath closed on him, Beofelps sought the help of Bimbo to destroy the monster. Seeing his liege-lord in utter plight, Bimbo took up his sword and plunged it into the spot below the dragon’s wing, causing the great worm to cry out in pain. Seeing his squire deal such a devastating blow, Beofelps drew himself up to his full height; years and ages seemed to disappear from his countenance and his face shined anew. In that moment, the mighty Guilding took his blade and stabbed the beast down its throat, causing the dragon’s life-flame to fade into darkness.
Yet in the same moment, Beofelps’ years and wounds came rushing back and crippled the Guild-king. Catching his lord as he fell to the ground next the great monster, Bong, Bimbo cried aloud in anguish and taking him up carried the great hero back to Guilder’s capital, Mine’s Teareth. When asked what was to be done, Bimbo was firm that a great pyre would be built to commemorate the life and noble death that nothing less would have earned by a man such as Beofelps. The people mourned him as the greatest of kings and Beofelps’ memory lived on in the minds and hearts of the Guildings for years to come.
