The Elven Town Jump-The End Has Come

[PeregrineTook]

One of the king's guardsmen had seen Breagadoir and his ilk making their way towards the palace.



"Your majesty," he exclaimed, "we are under attack!!  Your son has returned and..."



and that was the last thing that guard ever said.



"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to kill the messenger?" Craos teased Leithleach.
"Yes, but I do it anyway," Leithleach replied.



"That's my boy," beamed his proud, ghostly papa.
Meantime, the elven guardsmen were rushing out to defend their king.



The guards were no match for Breagadoir's brood.
The phantom presence of Sotal took two guards out immediately.



Ainmhian simply enamored her would-be attacker.



One more down.
Her mother, Ead, was less friendly.  She banished a guard...



to outer space.
Craos zombified a guard,



and then fed another guard to him.
Breagadoir joined in and cast a fire blast at a guard.



And to balance out the fire with ice,



Falsacht used one of his fairy tricks.
Fraoch decided to take a more direct approach.



In such fashion, the Seven Deadly Sims swept through the grand palace and came to the throne room...



though Harlequin had stopped off to feed her pyromanic tendencies.
After the guards were dispatched, they found that there was a secret room behind the thrones.



"It's a teleportation system," Craos quickly assessed.  "A touch crude in its design, but a teleporter nonetheless."
"Well, then let's teleport after them," said Ainmhian enthusiastically.
"No!" her grandmother cautioned.  "Don't you hear that ticking?"



"Great," said Sotal.  "Now how are we supposed to follow dear grandpa and boot him off the throne?"
"It's alright," said his father,



"I know where they're going."

[Dextra2]

(Look at this. I'm alive and stuff.)

I think that Breagadoir would actually make a pretty good king. Not the best, but he'd want to make everyone happy so then they'd care less about what he'd do in his free time. So elven history might remember him being a good king.

[PeregrineTook]

(Look at this. I'm alive and stuff.)
I think that Breagadoir would actually make a pretty good king. Not the best, but he'd want to make everyone happy so then they'd care less about what he'd do in his free time. So elven history might remember him being a good king.

Hooray!  You're alive!
An interesting concept.  He won't be remembered as a good king, but might be remembered for not being a bad king.  I think he'd take that, just as long as he gets to be king  :=)

[PeregrineTook]

"Well, this is it," said Breagadoir.



"within this building is the entrance to the underground catacombs:  the king's fallback fortress.  Now we just need to find a way to break in..."



"I've got this," said Sotal, heading straight towards the wall.



Once Sotal was inside, he made quick work of the guards, then opened the door for the others.



Breagadoir and his clan then descended the stairs into the catacombs...much to the chagrin of the guards.



"Why aren't the torches lit in this corridor?" asked the guardsman.
"I'm not sure," his cohort said, "we'd better check it out."
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as they moved forward...



until one of the statues started following them.  Two guards down...
and two more guards who think a pretty young elf is walking right into their trap.



"There you are!" exclaimed Ainmhian as she walked up to one of the guards.
"Huh?" he replied, even as her charms washed over him.



"What are you doing?" demanded the other guard.  "Restrain her immediately!"
"No!" screamed the charmed guard.  "She's my love!"



And Ainmhian walked down the hallway laughing to herself.
In another hallway,



things went badly for a guard.
Some guards managed to avoid statues coming to life, being charmed into submission, or attacked by an undead fiend.



They didn't manage to avoid fire blasts.
Another pair of guards happened upon a lone, defenseless human sitting on...nothing.



It turns out she wasn't quite so defenseless after all.



And speaking of females who aren't defenseless, one of the guards happened upon Fraoch.



He lost.
Breagadoir and the crew won, however.  They finally reached the staircase leading up to the king...and his last line of defense.

[Dextra2]

Moving statues? Blink, you're dead. Look away, you're dead. Don't blink.

[PeregrineTook]

Moving statues? Blink, you're dead. Look away, you're dead. Don't blink.

Yes!  Exactly!!  That was my thought process the whole time that I was setting that up!  I even set things up for it in his background collage with him being mistaken for a statue because he stood lost in thought on the town hall steps for so long.  I'm glad someone else went Whovian with me  :=)

[Dextra2]

Yes!  Exactly!!  That was my thought process the whole time that I was setting that up!  I even set things up for it in his background collage with him being mistaken for a statue because he stood lost in thought on the town hall steps for so long.  I'm glad someone else went Whovian with me  :=)

I live by a couple of  a cemeteries actually, and there's angel statues there. (Big, scary, weeping ones.) I know how many there are, and the about areas of where they're at sadly. Some nights, I can't sleep and I think I see moving things in the dark.. *shivers*

[PeregrineTook]

I live by a couple of  a cemeteries actually, and there's angel statues there. (Big, scary, weeping ones.) I know how many there are, and the about areas of where they're at sadly. Some nights, I can't sleep and I think I see moving things in the dark.. *shivers*

You make perfect sense to me!  I walked into a paint-your-own-pottery place with my daughter around Christmas time and there was a statue of an angel holding a candle and we both kept staring fearfully in its direction for the first full half hour we were there.

[PeregrineTook]

"Well, it seems we're to be gladiators," said Harlequin, as the Clan of Breagadoir emerged from the catacombs into some sort of arena.



"No worries," she said with a smile, "I don't mind kicking butts in front of a crowd.
"Well, 'crowd' may be a touch generous," said the king, from his elevated vantage point. 



"Well, father, it seems the years have been rather kind to you.  You look younger than I remember.  And it appears we have at least two viewers," said Breagadoir.  "My Watcher seems to have shown her true colors."



"Well," the Watcher replied, "if you'll recall, I wanted to be with you simply to get to the throne, so if I'm guilty of anything, it's simply of being consistent."
"But she's not my only guest," interjected the king, "here come the others."



And with that, four riders made their way into the room.  The king introduced them as they came out as:  Famine, War, Pestilence, and Death.



"You may have your seven deadly Sims," said the king, "but I have my four horsemen.  I'll leave you to be finished off while my new bride and I head back out to rule our kingdom."



And with that, the king and new queen left the arena.  The horsemen began dismounting to take on Breagadoir's heirs.
Falsacht turned to Breagadoir and said, "You and Harlequin need to go after them.  We'll take care of these jokers."



As the elven prince and the clown girl ran after the monarchs, another elf left the fray.  "Good luck with that," said Sotal, as he simply walked through the wall and away from the confrontation.



As his father and grandfather both left the field of battle, Leithleach began firing arrows at the ghostly adversary. 



It wasn't working.
"Seems brute force is rather useless," suggested Ainmhian.



"My arrows are going right through him," Leithleach concurred.
"I notice you were aiming at his heart," she replied.  "I was planning on doing the same thing."



He may have been a ghost, but he was the ghost of a man.  In other words, putty in her hands.
Like Leithleach, Falsacht tried applying some brute force.  His target was the demonic form known as War.



And when he failed, War gloated, "Sorry, fairy boy, but you're no match for a real monster."



"Oh, I'm afraid you're not the only monster here," said a defensive daughter.



And the martial artist werewolf made surprisingly quick work of the demon.



But little did she know the demon was merely a distraction.



As the arrow was released, Falsacht threw himself in front of his daughter.



"Ungh," groaned Falsacht, as he fell to the ground.
"Father!!" screamed an irate daughter.
However, that fallen elf's grandmother had her eye focused on the cause of the alarm.  She finished off Pestilence with a single touch.



All that was left facing them was the grim reaper, Death.  He simply stared the crew down.
"We can't beat him," said Leithleach. 
"No," Craos concurred, "you can't beat Death, but you can make a deal with Death."  And with that, she stepped forward to address the reaper.



"I've cheated and escaped you numerous time," she began.  "First, I came out of my own timeline, then used an elixir to avoid death by old age.  Next, I jumped from timeline to timeline following my descendants rather than becoming merely their ancestor.  I know I'm a target that has escaped your clutch numerous times.  If I go with you willingly right now, will you let the rest of my family leave this place?"
"Mother, no!" shouted Ead.  "You can't do this."



"I can and I will," she asserted.  "Your affections are touching, but if I can save you all, I'm going to."
And with that, Death simply gave her a nod, and they shook on the deal.



The Seven Deadly Sims had done their part,



the rest was up to Breagadoir and Harlequin.

[Dextra2]

Aww, so many in the army are dead. Breagadoir better win this, if only just for vengeance.

[Swirl-Girl]

  Craos! You were my favorite.

[PeregrineTook]

Yeah, she was a pretty awesome character.  She did what she had to to save her father and her daughter.  (tears)

[PeregrineTook]

"Hurry along, my dear," said the king to his young bride, "if any of my son's hideous progeny defeat my Horsemen and get through, we'll be safe from them."



"How can you be so sure?" she asked him, as they walked through the King's Royal Catacombs.
"Well," the king replied, casually, "either the Horsemen will finish them off, or I'll set off the explosives hidden in each of these lovely artifacts."
"Explosives in the artifacts?!?" the newly crowned queen gasped.



"Of course," the king replied.  "Surely you didn't think I was so vain that I really needed an underground trove of treasures?"
And with that, they rounded another corner, walked a few steps, and the king stopped short.
"Here we are," he announced.



"So..." she began hesitantly, "the map to your hiding place is hidden in this bookshelf?"
"No," he replied, "the bookshelf is the hiding place."



And with the pulling of a specific book, the doorway slid open.

In another part of the catacombs, the elven heir and the clown girl were in pursuit.



"What's with all the statues and nonsense?" asked Harlequin.
"My father's so vain he needs an underground trove of treasures," Breagadoir replied, casually.



"How do you know where you're going with all the different corridors?" she asked.
"I have my ways," he replied slyly.

Back in the king's saferoom, the monarchs discovered they were not quite so safe as they had thought.



"Grandfather," greeted Sotal.  "Whatever took you so long?"
"How did you get in here?" demanded the king.



"I took the shortcut," the ghost replied.
The answer was, "What shortcut?"
"When you were most of the way here, I just came through the wall," replied the ghost with a smile.



"I was walking through the walls following you the whole time.  I made sure to mark the path as we went.  Father will be following my trail here right now," he added.  "In fact, I think I here a noise at the door."



"Thanks for leaving such a nice trail," Breagadoir said to his son.  "It made finding this place extremely simple."
While the queen shrieked and ran from the room, the king decided to take some anger out on the ghost who had been his undoing.



Before Breagadoir could stop him, the king had thrown a bottle at Sotal's feet, and as Breagadoir watched, his heir slowly vanished from existence.
"What did you do?" demanded the prince.



"It's a banishing potion," laughed the king.  "The threat of that elixir is how I kept Famine in line.  It even protected me from the haunting aspects of his presence."  And with that, Breagadoir pulled his wand and began a spell.
The king laughed dismissively as he said, "You know I'm immune to your fire and ice blasts.  Go ahead and try."
"Not trying those," said Breagadoir.  "You just threw away your protection from a haunting curse."



While Breagadoir and his father were having their exchange, the Watcher-turned-queen was simply trying to flee.  She went exactly the route Harlequin had expected.



"This doesn't have to go badly," said the former Watcher.  "We can talk through this.  I'm a queen now.  I can give you riches."
"This does have to go badly," responded the clown girl with a sneer.  "We won't talk through this.  I'm a mother now.  You had my son abducted.  I'm going to give you a beating."



Back in the no-longer-saferoom, the king received the full blast of Breagadoir's spell and recoiled in fear as a form came into existence before him.



"No!" shrieked the monarch.  "That's not possible!"
"Obviously it is," said Breagadoir.  "and now that Sotal's spirit has been anchored to you, he can haunt you for the rest of your days.  Don't worry though," he added, "we'll make sure you don't have too many of those left."

And indeed, Breagadoir locked the king and his bride (after Harlequin had a few more hours of vengeance on her) in the tower...in the same room where the king had locked his first wife.  On his third day on the throne, Breagadoir decreed that the tower was to be knocked down...without removing those locked within.  Sotal enjoyed the gift of these few more days on earth.



In the days, months, and years that followed, the elven-prince-turned-king and the clown-girl-turned-queen ruled over their people effectively, if not compassionately, and even if peace did not always reign, the violence was honest.



Many thanks to my readers.  I hope that you have enjoyed following this story every bit as much as I have enjoyed writing it.  Special thanks to Rosa, Dolls, Wiry, hearts, Squirt, Dex, and other people that I'm sure I forgot to mention specifically for their contributions of characters, story ideas, and for being effective sounding boards for my ideas.  Everyone who has read and/or commented has been a wonderful gift to me as a writer.  Thank you.

[Dextra2]

See? Breagadoir made a wonderful king. He's probably made a better ruler then Alana or the dead brother. (I don't remember his name, and I'm too lazy to look it up.)

I really enjoyed how this ended. It reminded me a lot of the Grimm Brother's tales, or maybe one of Hans Andersen's work. It didn't fit the more script-like middle of this, but this worked very well to get a more "oomph" ending. I'd go farther into that, but my fingers are too cold to type lengthy paragraphs right now.

[PeregrineTook]

See? Breagadoir made a wonderful king. He's probably made a better ruler then Alana or the dead brother. (I don't remember his name, and I'm too lazy to look it up.)
I really enjoyed how this ended. It reminded me a lot of the Grimm Brother's tales, or maybe one of Hans Andersen's work. It didn't fit the more script-like middle of this, but this worked very well to get a more "oomph" ending. I'd go farther into that, but my fingers are too cold to type lengthy paragraphs right now.

Wow!  That's some high praise.  The Grimms and Anderson are rather awesome.
It wasn't quite when I expected to end the story, but I liked how it turned out.