This One Goes To Eleven...

[barrie]

Tricia said:

My advice is to practice playing with your thingy before you try to use it!

I think that advice applies in a lot of situations really

[RedneckDiva]

I've played with my thingy so much I think I'm pretty adept at using it. But I guess a little extra practice never hurt, right?

SO excited to start this next round!!!!!!

[apastorslife]

JamesK1

Dreams are funny things. One moment your sitting on a couch watching TV with a bunch of kids you went to Kindergarten with and the next you’re being chased by and invisible serial killer and the only reason you can see him is he has a credit card in an unseen pocket. Dreams are funny, mostly because they’re just dreams. Sudden changes in scenery and situation are not so humorous in real life. So even if you feel you are in a dream, reality happens when you’re awake.

People will often respect others who have an open mind… someone who isn’t locked into one particular point of [glow=red,2,300]view[/glow]. This is something many people with wish on those who don’t and those who wish no one had. But even open-minded people enjoy looking at things from a certain point of view. Especially when that point of view is from a safe location like a comfortable bed or a perfectly good airplane.

Wind is a wonderful item. It’s one of the many things in life we cannot see but can feel. Love is like that. Thoughts, concepts, inspiration and fear are all things we can rarely see. Of course just like falling in love or a fear of falling, wind can be surprisingly visible at times, especially when it’s coming at you from beneath you at a high rate of speed.

An Idea. Who can put a worthy price on one single amazing idea? Only the [glow=red,2,300]mindless[/glow] can truly understand the worth of the conception of the imagination and logic. But those who find themselves in a completely unhealthy situation as a direct result of someone’s idea can find that some are absolutely worthless… even if it at first seemed worthwhile.

Time is a foolish concept. We think it exists because we watch things grow, age and die. A kid grows into a [glow=red,2,300]goat[/glow] that in some countries grows into a stew. [glow=red,2,300]Snow[/glow] flakes grow into a snowman that in some countries melts into water. So man creates a clock with movement. I secondhand that is most defiantly moving… giving us the proof we need that time would never stand still… although it does. The person who created the clock was a creep. Time flies when you’re having fun and it all but stops when you’re not quite flying.

Hobbies are a great way to put to death any extra time you can squeeze out of your life. Hobbies are even greater when you can be paid for doing them. Some spend time filling many a [glow=red,2,300]basket[/glow] with fruits, candy and ribbons and delivering them many an [glow=red,2,300]address[/glow]. Others spend time watching many a person [glow=red,2,300]hobble[/glow] around in their gardens while they lie in hammocks, sipping lemonade, collecting disability while they pretend their meniscus is torn and/or [glow=red,2,300]broken[/glow]. Some are [glow=red,2,300]Pearl[/glow] Divers. Still others put on [glow=red,2,300]orange[/glow] jumpsuits and allow others to convince them that skydiving is something worth dying for.

Facts are also wonderful things. Here are a few: It’s not at all nice to feel you should be dreaming something you know you are actually experiencing. Being open-minded doesn’t mean you’re open to the effects of gravity on a naturally flightless animal… especially when the animal is a human… especially when the human is you. The feeling of wind in your hair, eyes, ears and open mouth are not as relaxing from 5,000 feet as they are from 5 feet above the ground. The difference between a good and a bad idea can be judged by how many things are [glow=red,2,300]broken[/glow] after the idea is put into motion. Especially when they motion is downward. Time stops when you’re plunging toward 15 feet of snow. Not even a moving secondhand could convince you otherwise. What else would explain this long train of thought? And one more thing… Packing parachutes is not a hobby. People should be paid well to pack them… and other people should be paid well not to use them.

+++++++++++++++
Thanks for all the votes... made me feel pretty special... enough to try again. Enjoy.

[RedneckDiva]

Am I the only one who hasn't had time to even think about starting their story??? Or are all of you just sitting back, basking in the warmth of knowing your story rocks this time and waiting to submit it until the last minute?

My goal for tonight is to finish my List of 100 for my durn blog AND to start (and finish) my story. Of course, I already hear the bed calling my name - and it's only 7:19pm. I'm so pathetic....*sob*

[Tricia]

Yes... it is so

[RedneckDiva]

What is so? That your story is done? That your story rocks? Or that I am pathetic?

[jenn]

extention time anyone?

[barrie]

Jenn that would make me sooooo happy! Do I have to beg? It's gonna be hard in these boots but I'll do it!

[ThatWickedWench]

Wench1

Trudging wearily up the steep, rocky terrain of the desolate Peruvian foothills, I found my spirit broken. Literally lying there, dashed upon the rocks in pieces. I attempted to kneel to gather it up and cradle it in my arms, only to realize I had a serious conflict of interest as my legs grew consistantly more numb and my body began to succumb to the mindless urge to collapse. Yet, my dauntless brain forced one blister smattered foot to place itself painfully in front of the other. I would not allow myself to die in this scorching wasteland!

I chose instead to address my situation and I blinked my eyes blurrily against the angry glare of the midday sun. Large orange spots hazed my vision, but in the very near distance I thought I made out what appeared to be a child-sized shack built into a rocky crevice atop the incline that I stood on at that very moment... Yes! And what a view it truly was! The barren red rock gave way to an oasis of lush, green foliage that sprouted healthily about the shack. Odd, I reasoned to see such a place and I knew not what awaited me behind that little shanty's door, but I decided to hobble forward with high hopes that it was a safe haven. Besides, I could always sneak under the window and peek inside. If whatever resided within the quaint cabin was terribly horrible and hungry, well I could always creep quietly away, retreating with relatively no shame. In times of peril or oblivion one should always have such a backup plan... and well I'd rather crumble away to a dry dusty demise in Hell-torched temperatures than be savagely devoured by a horrendous monster with snow-white fangs and razors for claws.

So ahead I wobbled, but before I could pull myself up to the window sill to sneak my peak, the front door flew open with a bang, startling me straight on my posterior! I rubbed my eyes to clear them as I gazed up in disbelief at the last creature I had imagined I would see coming out of the shack... err out of a house at all. This strange animal was at this very moment checking me out... and chewing it's cud? The goat just grinned a crooked row of teeth and offered me a hoof.

I scrambled to my aching feet with the aide of the goat, which was easier than I thought it would be considering goats do not possess digits with which to grab. His cloven hoof was polished shiny, manicured even and as for the rest of him.. well he was rather well put together. The friendly little chap even winked and disappeared, returning an instant later with a glorious basket loaded with sweet berries and cheese with which to fill my belly. I also drank my full of the sparkling clear water that bubbled forth from a nearby spring. I napped in the shade of the goat's abode to rest my body's mulititude of complaints.

The time came for me to take my leave and my new friend surprised me yet again with a water pouch and sausage links to take on the road. So I waved farewell as I topped the hill beyond the furry little cud chewing hermit's shack as light breezes carried a bleating pearl of wisdom to me from the goat, "Miiind you, it's aaalll downhiilll froomm hee're!!!!"

[RedneckDiva]

RD1

"Oh, Mark, the view from up here is breathtaking! I can't believe you planned all this by yourself!" Polly exclaimed and threw her arms around her new husband's neck. "Can you imagine what these hills would look like covered in snow?" she said as she turned to stand with her back to Mark's chest, his arms around her waist.

He had taken great pains to make sure this honeymoon trip was perfect - he had many plans for his young wife and figured that the more isolated they were from other people, the better. His sadistic plans for her began to creep into his thoughts again and his heart began to beat faster. It wasn't that he was cruel and evil by any means, he just had a few kinks she didn't know about. In fact, she probably wouldn't even like them, but he didn't really care at this point. He was about to entertain a life-long desire and obsession and nothing was going to stop him.

"Polly, my love, come sit beside me for a minute, will you?" he said and he took her arm. Directing her to the edge of the bed he turned to face her and looked solemnly into her eyes. "You may have wondered why I brought you all the way up here, away from everyone. Okay, you actually may not have wondered, but I'm going to tell you my ulterior motive for such a long trip this week." His young bride wasn't interested in his mindless chatter, her thoughts were drifting off to their time together, making love, spending all of their days in bed, sleeping together for the first time...her virgin romanticism was getting the best of her. Mark knew she wasn't listening to him talk and decided now would be as good a time as any to put his plan into action.

Quickly, before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her face firmly in one of his hands, digging his fingers into her tender cheek. "I am talking to you, Polly and you will pay full attention to me when I address you!" The look on her startled face was priceless to him and caused the bulge in his pants to begin growing. Polly, however, was completely taken aback. She was young, innocent and not used to such harsh talk, especially from her quiet, mild-mannered Mark. "I-I-I'm sorry, Mark! I was just thinking about our time up here together....and I guess I kind of drifted off somewhere and will you please let GO of me!" Her small, white hands tried to pry his fingers from her face, but he was much stronger and she was not succeeding. She slapped at his hands, even scratched him once, then realizing he wasn't letting go until he was ready, she gave up. Her hands fell back into her lap and she focused her eyes across the room on a basket of small orange flowers and greenery left in the room by the owner.

Mark was aroused even further at how easily she gave up, knowing that would make her training go even faster and soon he would have her submitting to him fully. He wanted to spend the next few days molding her into a perfect little wife that the guys at the club would be envious of, a syrupy sweet little mouse who's own will was completely broken, his willing slave....

Two days later he finally decided he needed to get out of the cabin and breathe in some fresh air. He released Polly from the bed, leaving the wrist restraints still on her, just another reminder that she belonged to him still. Her muscles ached, her mind was racing with thoughts of escape, her cheek was still bruised from his rough grasp of her that first night and she was angry. In two days she had gone from demure, innocent and virginal to used, abused and pissed off.

"Alright, Polly, I'm going to go take a walk. You need to get your ass up and take a shower. Fix yourself up a little, too - you look like hell. Don't think about leaving, you hear? We're pretty isolated out here, there are no neighbors to run to and you wouldn't make it far before I'd find you anyway, " he said as he put on his jacket. Polly nodded an agreement at him, her eyes downcast, hands in her lap. "Oh yeah, here's a little something for you, a token of my appreciation, so to speak." He walked over and tossed a pearl necklace at her. It landed in her naked lap and she continued to stare at the floor, not even trying to catch it as it slipped to the floor. "Ungrateful bitch, " he spat and turned to leave. "You'll pay for your insolence when I get back."

When he finally left and she heard the lock on the outside of the door snap shut, her head shot up and the look on her face was nothing but pure determination. She stood, but her muscles screamed in protest. After stretching a few times, she hobbled to her suitcase. "Idiot. He didn't even take my clothes. You'd think if he really wanted to insure my staying he'd make it difficult to leave." She laughed - a harsh, dry sound coming from the girl who, just days ago, was young and innocent and happy. Now she resembled an old woman. There were lines on her forehead from trying to close out the pain these last two days, dark circles under her puffy eyes and her countenance was angry and tense.

She got dressed with some difficulty, being careful to not tear at the welts on her breasts, legs and backside, then grabbed her cell phone and purse from the dresser. She was fully prepared to break the glass back door if she had to, but taking hold of the sliding door's handle she realized Mark had left it unlocked. "Once again, I can say he's an idiot and it isn't uncalled-for." She smiled and walked out into the fresh air of the afternoon. She walked as quickly as she could, considering her physical state and the fact that she was borderline dehydrated.

She walked for what seemed like hours, continually looking over her shoulder for signs he might be on her trail. She choked back tears on several occasions, but steeled herself again and again, knowing that she could endure anything at this point. She caught site of what she thought was a small cabin over the next rise. She quickened her pace, forcing herself to not yell out. Would it be unlocked? Would they even be kind enough to help her out - if anyone was there at all? She laughed out loud, in spite of herself, when she saw a goat tethered out in the front yard. "Someone at least lives here!" she thought.

She walked into the front yard, straightening her clothes and trying to smooth down her matted, sweaty blonde hair. The door opened when she stepped onto the threshold and from inside the darkness of the cabin she heard him say, "Come in, Polly. We've been expecting you."

[Chaos]

Guys, my story blew up! I can't cut it, because, well...read it, you'll see why! So I am posting it in three separate posts, due to the 10,000 character limit (this thing must count spaces as characters). The story is 2,728 words long...but I think it's worth it. If this is a violation of the rules, I'm sure someone will let me know!

AD1

The Black Pearl

Part One
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, which was called Ancalimon, there lived a princess by the name of Seremela. Now, Seremela of Ancalimon was the most beautiful and the most feared woman that her region had ever known. For even though she was possessed of the face of an angel framed by flowing red hair, eyes so green that they brought to mind the image of emeralds flashing in sunlight, and a lush body that curved in all the right places, Seremela was also cursed.

This curse was brought to bear upon the innocent Princess by the midwife who delivered her from her mother, some eighteen years ago. The midwife, in a fit of rage and jealousy over her lowly status in the Kingdom of Ancalimon, bestowed upon the newborn Princess a curse so deadly that none within her range could survive:

“From this day until her last,
My curse this Princess shall not get past.
All who love her and hold her near,
Will surely have much to fear.
Until a champion, brave and true,
Comes to her side, within her view;
The Black Pearl with him, he must bring,
To lift the curse, to close the ring.”

The midwife’s magic was strong; Seremela’s mother, after taking one look at her beautiful daughter and feeling her heart overflow with love for her, died within moments of giving birth to the Princess. Thus began the long string of deaths that the people of Ancalimon would forever associate with the lovely Princess Seremela.

The only person safe from Seremela’s curse was her father, King Aranel of Ancalimon; for he was unable to forgive Seremela for the death of his beloved Queen and therefore showed his daughter none of the affection or closeness that would otherwise have doomed him. The King provided for Seremela materially, of course. The Princess had the wardrobe and education that befitted a young woman of her station; however, the King exercised great caution in addressing all new service people who would be in contact with his daughter. He advised them all of the implications of growing too close to the girl, making sure that every one of them understood that the unequivocal penalty of the curse upon his daughter was nothing short of death.

And so it went that, despite the dire warnings delivered by the King himself, the gentle people of Ancalimon had buried at least three of their own per year by the time Seremela reached eighteen years of age. No matter how steely their resolve, there was always at least one among them, whether governess, tutor, handmaiden, or seamstress who remained utterly unable to resist her beautiful face, lovely manners, and sweet disposition. The moment one succumbed to the Princess’ charms and gave over his or her heart and loyalty to her, no sooner would a horrible accident or mysterious illness take the life of that person, leaving Seremela again lonely and bereft.

Seremela felt a considerable amount of guilt about the deaths; after all, people were dying as a result of a curse placed upon her. The Princess portrayed a casual, carefree attitude on the outside; however, on the inside Seremela knew that her spirit had been broken years before by her father’s careless dismissal of her. Still, part of her was indeed glad that he maintained such distance from her, because she simply didn’t think she could bear having killed both of her parents.

On the eve of Seremela’s 18th birthday, the King sent a messenger to his daughter. “Princess Seremela, His Royal Highness, King Aranel of Ancalimon, wishes to convey this message to thee: ‘As Ruler of this Land, I can no longer tolerate the rate at which you, by way of the curse placed upon thee at the time of thy birth, are killing my loyal subjects. Therefore, I hereby give thee due notice: if the resolution to said curse is not fulfilled by this time one year from this very night, I will be forced to banish thee from this Kingdom…forever!”<br>
Upon making this pronouncement, the courier removed from his basket a scroll tied with black ribbon. He handed the scroll over to Seremela before he turned and left her as quickly as he had come.

Seremela’s fingers mindlessly pulled at the ribbon as she absorbed her father’s message. Whispering to herself, she said, “He means to toss me aside, as a common criminal – his only child! How…how could he? Does he hate me that much?” At that, the Princess dissolved into tears at the unfairness of her entire life.

Some time later, when her sobs had turned to dry coughs, Princess Seremela became aware once more of the roll of parchment she held in her hands. She removed the satin ribbon and read the words within, gasping as she recognized the words of the curse placed upon her so long ago. Reading the evil midwife’s words, the Princess realized that, indeed, the way to her salvation lay right there in her hands. Alas, thought Seremela sadly, the Black Pearl…how would she find someone to bring her the fabled gemstone, which probably didn’t actually exist anyway? It’s just not possible, she thought tiredly as the tears once more rolled down her perfect porcelain cheeks.

[Tricia]

Okay... Okay...
I know!

There is a hurricane acomin!

Yeah some of us here in Atlanta are battoning down the hatches.

I will give you all an extension... stop emailing me people!

What's say Friday... as soon as I get in from work... then the voting will go on over the weekend.

Now.... my story is done, but I'm working on my resume.

Anybody out there got a really good resume that I can borrow?
No... not the whole thing. Just the template.
I'm going crazy finding one that looks nice!

[Chaos]

AD1 (cont'd)

Part Two[/u]
Two lands east from Ancalimon, separated by a very large mountain range, lay the Land of Elensar. For the last hundred years or more, every champion produced in the entire region came from Elensar – Warriors who slew dragons, defeated entire armies single-handedly, and rescued distressed damsels by the dozens.

Descended from a long, long line of such worthy champions, Bryn Sirfalas expected to be the next champion from his village in Elensar. Since he learned to walk, his father, the famous Daeron Sirfalas, had trained him daily to take over his title of Champion-At-Arms.

Currently, however, Bryn was engaged in a bit of sport, along with his cousins, Morwen and Vrong. Laughing, Vrong threw a bruised and battered orange over his brother’s head, as young Morwen tried in vain to reach it. Bryn caught the fruit easily before turning with his characteristic lightning-quick speed to throw it at the goat attempting to creep beyond the confines of the yard. “Blasted goat,” Bryn yelled in exasperation, “don’t make me have to hobble ye, just to keep that thick hide near the house!” And he grinned widely as the ruined fruit hit the target, causing the kid to bleat in terror and run with its wobbly gait back to its mother.

Collapsing in the uneven grass, Bryn glanced at his cousins who were now wrestling together. “Vrong, me lad, Morwen is nearly as tall as you! Take care that he doesn’t best ye!”<br>
Taking the challenge at face value, Vrong immediately picked up his younger brother and laid him out flat in the yard, declared himself the victor, and then fell breathlessly to the ground beside him before speaking again to Bryn. “So, cuz, have you thought further on the story of the Black Pearl? Me father seems to think it lies not more than an hour to our west…just imagine, Bryn! If you are the champion for whom the pearl waits, not only will ye be famous forevermore, but you will also win the hand of the fair Princess Seremela! Her beauty is said to be more magnificent than any imaginable thing in the entire world, Bryn. How can you not wish to try?”<br>
Bryn sighed in frustration. How many times would he have to go through this? “Vrong, cousin, friend…how many times must I repeat myself? It’s all fine and well to wonder whether I may be the champion for whom the pearl is meant; the problem lies in ‘what if I am NOT?’” Bryn knew his cousin knew the fabled legend about the Pearl and the Princess as well as he himself did. Why, then, was Vrong pursuing this foolishness? Still, Bryn did admit to himself, though only to himself, that winning the hand of the most gorgeous Princess in all the land would be quite a coup…and would most certainly earn him the distinction he desired in his own region. Not to mention the fact that, if he were indeed the champion who could capture the Black Pearl from its hidden cave and free the Princess from her terrible curse…his fame and fortune would surpass even that of his own father!

Standing suddenly, Bryn surprised his cousins by declaring, “Fine, then, lads, let’s be off on our grand adventure! Even if we are not successful, it will still be a most entertaining venture, will it not?” He set off immediately for his home, to inform his mother and father what he was about. Vrong and Morwen stared at him, amazed, before running after him, ready and willing to go into battle with their champion cousin.

Several hours later, laden with clothing, food, and other supplies, the three young men journeyed off into the mountains. Also in their possession was a map given to Bryn by his uncle, Vrong’s father. This map would lead them directly to the Pearl, according to his uncle, who had done considerable research on the subject; Vrong’s father had also cautioned Vrong and Morwen against touching the Black Pearl, for it was said that if a man who would not be a Warrior dared to touch the Pearl, it would punish that man mightily. However, to Bryn, his uncle had merely wished his luck, handed over the map, and bid the young Warrior safe journey. It was widely known throughout the village that Vrong and Morwen’s father believed Bryn to be the Champion who would claim the gem, and though many in the village believed the man to be addled, all agreed that if any among them could achieve this thing, it would be Bryn.

And so it was that Bryn and his cousins entered into the snow-covered mountains in quest of the fabled Black Pearl. According to the legend of the Pearl, which was known far and wide, it was left buried in a hidden cave thousands of years ago by a most powerful wizard who wished to keep its power protected from those who would use it for evil gain. Unfortunately, the wizard was killed in a fiery battle with a dragon before he could reclaim the gemstone. Scholars who had studied the legend as well as the wizard’s path mostly agreed that the Pearl’s final resting place was in these mountains near the Land of Elensar. Also generally agreed upon was the fact that only a Warrior of superior strength would be able to claim the stone; however, for that Warrior, it would be a fairly simple task to locate and retrieve, for the Pearl would call to its rescuer from its hiding place in its desire to be brought forth once again into the light.

Following the map that Vrong’s father had given them, Bryn and his cousins quickly located the cave where the Pearl might lie in wait. “Do you hear the Pearl’s call, Bryn?” Morwen inquired.

“I do, my cousin…I do, indeed,” Bryn answered, terribly excited now, knowing he was only a few feet from his prize. “Wait here, me lads; I will return in a moment with the answer to all of our hopes.” And with that, Bryn disappeared into the cave.

Vrong and Morwen waited anxiously for Bryn to return, speculating quietly about their cousin’s odds of retrieving the Pearl, while Morwen wondered aloud if they would go straight to Ancalimon to rescue the Princess. Before Vrong could answer that question, Bryn emerged from the mouth of the cave. Held aloft in his hands was a smoky black pearl, about six inches in diameter. “Too easy, boys; that cave was black as pitch, yet it was as if my feet knew just where to go and before I knew it, I was right in front of this beauty! Just look at her, lads…have ye ever seen anything like this in your life?” Bryn’s voice reflected the triumph in his eyes.

Vrong and Morwen huddled near Bryn to get a closer look at the gemstone; still, they took care not to touch it for fear of what it would do not only to them, but also to Bryn’s ability to continue his quest. The three young men stood silently for a few moments, admiring the smooth orb with the black, almost liquid-looking center that sort of radiated out to a smoky-grey swirl at the outer edges. Finally, Bryn spoke, “Let’s be about our business, then, me lads. We’ve got a Princess to rescue!”<br>
Newly confident with his now-guaranteed status as Champion, Bryn and his cousins set off to the west, toward Ancalimon and the lovely Princess Seremela. Their journey by foot, which took about six days, was surprisingly less arduous than it might have been, even though their route took them through icy mountains and over rough terrain.

[Chaos]

AD1 (cont'd)

Part Three[/u]
At last, thought Bryn, I’ve arrived to meet my destiny. The brave young warrior stood before the castle of the King of Ancalimon, the Black Pearl tucked safely into a pouch at his side. He was alone, as Vrong and Morwen had stopped at the first public house they saw to get a bite to eat. Squaring his shoulders, Bryn approached the first person he saw. “Excuse me, M’Lord. Might ye know where I could find the lovely Princess Seremela?”<br>
The answer, given quickly before the nobleman hurried away, was, “Aye, lad, but be ye sure that you wish to see her? Dangerous, she is, especially to a fine young man such as yourself. Still, if you wish to see her, you may find her at the stables, there in the square.”<br>
Bryn ran to the village square and located the stables. Seeing the Princess and her court at the far end of the building, he made his way toward them. “Princess Seremela! A word with you, please!” Bryn called out, hoping to stop them before they mounted their horses and rode away.

The Princess, hearing her name, turned to see what was afoot. Bryn reached the Princess’ side and for a moment was stunned into silence in the face of the sheer beauty that was Princess Seremela. Recovering himself, he untied the pouch at his side and withdrew the Pearl.

Seremela’s eyes grew wide as Bryn extended the Pearl toward her. “Lovely Princess Seremela, I am Bryn of Elensar. I have come to make a gift to you of the Black Pearl. Will you accept it, beautiful Princess?”<br>
Knowing what this would mean for her – the curse, broken at last! – Seremela’s hand shook as she reached to take the now-glowing orb from Bryn’s hand. At the moment that the Princess’ hand and Bryn’s were both touching the Pearl, the gem radiated a clean white light, which bathed both Bryn and the Princess in a warm suffusion of light.

As Princess Seremela withdrew her hand, grasping the smooth, cool orb, she knew immediately that the curse was lifted. Further proof of that lay in the fact that the legendary Pearl that she held in her palm was now a milky white, opaque gemstone, rather than the dark Black it had been when first she laid eyes on it.

Wonderingly, she gazed into Bryn’s eyes and both immediately knew all of the love that either would ever need. Bryn opened his arms to her and Seremela stepped into them as naturally as if she’d done it her whole life. Now, at long last, the Princess knew the joy and comfort that being loved could bring.

Suddenly, from the castle, the mourning bells began to peal. A squire ran toward the village square, crying hysterically, “The King is dead…the King is dead!”<br>
At the very moment that the Pearl was exchanged between his daughter and her champion, enabling Seremela to again be loved, the King suffered a fatal heart attack.

So, as Princess Seremela was King Aranel’s only heir, she was next in line for the throne. The Princess and the Warrior were wed in the largest ceremony the region had ever seen. And as they took their rightful places as King Bryn and Queen Seremela of Ancalimon, they knew, without doubt, that they would live happily ever after.

The End

[barrie]

I'm pathetic. I've still got nothin'

Well except huMONgous knockers and seriously cool boots!