But in the prime of their youth, before Foopowapee had given Mogowopoo more than two litters of children, a great plague swept across the land, and both Mogowopoo and Foopowapee became very ill. Mogowopoo was sick for many days, but he was the strongest man in the village, and recovered quickly thereafter; but Foopowapee, being a weak female, did not, and lingered for long weeks in a death- like sleep. And the medicine men of the village advised Mogowopoo that she would soon die, and he would be well advised to start looking for a new chesty wife-slave.

Mogowopoo bemoaned his fate, for he loved Foopowapee dearly, and also he was stuck with eighteen squalling babies to raise by himself. And he resolved himself that he should not give up his beloved chesty wife-slave so easily, for Mogowopoo was a chieftain's son, and it was not his way to surrender lightly to the whim of fate. He entrusted his children to his sisters and aunts, who were somewhat less than pleased with this arrangement, and he went to the wise man of the village to ask him what to do.

"O Wise One," Mogowopoo asked, "I find that I cannot go on without my beloved Foopowapee, she who cooked and cleaned for me and bore my children and made me squeal with pleasure at night in our tent. What shall I do?"

The old wise man considered for a long time, and at last he said, "If you are truly resolved that you must save Foopowapee, there is only one path ahead of you: you must go to the Citadel of Stelos in the heart of the ocean, and there you must petition him to intercede and return Foopowapee to the land of the living."

And Mogowopoo knew the old man's words to be true. And so he hollowed out the trunk of a weepawapa tree to fashion a canoe, and he carved oars from the branches of that same weepawapa tree, and he filled his canoe with the nuts and fruit of the weepawapa, and he set out across the ocean.

Many days and nights were to pass before Mogowopoo would reach his destination; he battled through storms, he fought off hordes of kraken and surfing crimson plankton, and he endured long weeks without enough food or rest. But at long last, he pulled his tiny canoe onto the beaches below the Citadel of Stelos.

And Mogowopoo approached the doors of the Citadel of Stelos, and they swung open to admit him. And he found his way, alone, through the great corridors of the Citadel, until at last he came into a throne room, and at the back of the throne room there was a mighty throne, and seated upon that throne was Great Stelos.

Mogowopoo came forward to kneel before the throne, and the Atlantean said, "Tell me why you have come here, my son."

And Mogowopoo said to the Guardian of Vaults, "I have come to petition you, Great Stelos, for the life of my beloved chesty wife-slave Foopowapee. Even now she lies in the sleep that is as death. Tell me what I must do to return her to the world of the living."

And the Ice Lord considered for a long moment. And then he said, "Mogowopoo, what would you risk to save Foopowapee? Consider carefully before answering."

And Mogowopoo said, "Anything."

And the eyes that had watched the fabled City Before Time sink beneath the waves flashed, and the god's voice said: "So be it."

Then the Master of the Deep stood, and icy water roared forth from his cloak, engulfing Mogowopoo, who thought that he would surely drown. The torrent carried Mogowopoo back, tumbling and spinning in the freezing whirlpool, and suddenly Mogowopoo found himself in the depths of a cavern, the icy waters receding around his ankles, facing two figures cloaked in black. And one he saw to be Stelos, who had brought him to this place, and the other one he knew to be Mordak, the Lord of Death.

"Why do you disturb my solitude, Keeper of Coins?" roared the Bringer of Pestilence.

"Why else would one come willingly to the abode of the Collector of Souls," the Boatman asked, with an icy smile, "but for a wager?"

"What wager do you bring me?" inquired the Prince of Decay, suspicion in his voice.

"The mate of this bold warrior lies near death," said the Maker of Fortunes. "He challenges for her life, and he agrees to the stakes."

And Mogowopoo's heart was chilled as he heard a deep chuckle from the depths of the Gravedigger's hood. "So be it," said the Dark God. "As the recipient of the challenge, I choose the terms. Chess. One game. The winner gets both souls."

"The sport of kings," mulled the Mariner, eyebrow raised. "Acceptable." He snapped his fingers, and at once a table of jade was carried out by a procession of shark-men, along with a ruby chess board, topped with pieces made of crystal and obsidian. Two chairs, each one fit to be the throne of an emperor, followed, and the Entombed Tyrant and Mogowopoo seated themselves.

The Sea-King produced a glittering golden coin from the folds of his cloak and tossed it into the air. Mogowopoo called "Tails", and the Eternal Treasurer plucked the spinning coin from the air, hesitated for an instant, and revealed its face, and it was indeed tails.

"I thought you were going to flip it over onto your arm," rumbled the Deathforger as Mogowopoo considered his first move.

"Let's not quibble," admonished the Uncounterfeitable One, smiling in friendly fashion.

And the game did progress, and both Mogowopoo and the Reaper of Souls did make many excellent moves, although it did seem that Mogowopoo kept changing his mind about his next move every time that the Guide of Sailors accidentally kicked his chair. But even so, the Keeper of the Dead slowly gained the advantage; his king was carefully positioned in a corner, guarded by a row of pawns, while his bishops, queen, and rook methodically corralled Mogowopoo's few remaining pieces. And Mogowopoo did begin to tremble, for fear that neither he nor his beloved Foopowapee would ever again see the light of day. But the Sender of Waves, who hovered ever over his shoulder, seemed unperturbed, except for a single sneezing fit which necessitated searching among the folds of his robe for a handkerchief.

"Why, what is that?" asked the Gemcutter abruptly, pointing back over the shoulder of Mogowopoo's opponent. And Mogowopoo furrowed his brow, for he saw nothing, but he knew better than to question the Minter of Coinage. And He-Who-Bears-The-Crusher-of- Souls turned and looked behind him, but also saw nothing.

"Of what do you speak, Aqueous One?" demanded the Baron of Inhumation.

And the Patron of Gamblers, with a completely innocent and guileless expression on his face, said "I was sure for a moment that there was something behind you, but I must have been mistaken. Forgive me. Please, play on."

And at that very moment, Mogowopoo, whose turn it was, picked up a crystalline rook that the Doombringer had really thought had been captured earlier in the game, and moved it into the back row, pinning the obsidian king. "Check...and mate," declared the Captain of Captains, smiling virtuously.

And so the Funereal One grudgingly relinquished Foopowapee from her deathlike sleep, and even conjured a chariot drawn by winged stallions, the color of darkest midnight, to return Mogowopoo to his village, where he was joyously reunited with his chesty wife-slave, the two of them to live out their days in happiness and contentment.

This is the story as it was passed down by the ancients. But some say that, after Mogowopoo was gone, Great Stelos did say to Mordak, "Thanks, I owe you one."

And those same people contend that Mordak Deathforge did then reply, "Well, he seemed like a nice enough kid, so I figured, why not?"

But the truth, as always, is not for mortal men to know.