HOW TO SUCCESSFULLY KILL A CHARACTER

Authors are always being advised to be mean to their characters. Often, that meanness involves killing them off. And even as we may bawl over our beloved characters’ deaths, most of us get a strange sort of fulfillment out of it. We gotta play tough and do whatever best serves the story, right?

But that, of course, begs the question: Is killing off a character really the best way to serve your story?

Before we answer that question, let’s take a look at some reasons that may justify our decision to end a character’s life—along with some not-so-good reasons.

Good Reasons to Kill a Character

We can find many good reasons for snuffing even important characters, including:

• It advances the plot. (Melanie in Gone With the Wind.)
• It fulfills the doomed character’s personal goal. (Obi-Wan in A New Hope, Oberyn Martell, anyone who has mentored Harry Potter, Baron Zeppeli in JoJo, Éponine Thénardier/the original Little Mermaid, Juliet Capulet/Hélène de Chandroz/Shirin...)
• It motivates other characters. (Sirius Black, Mercutio, Ophelia, all of the Amis sans Marius -the sole survivor-, Renly, Drogo, Ygritte...)
• It’s a fitting recompense for the character’s actions up to this point. (Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights. Oberyn. Cú Chulainn. Also, Éponine Thénardier/the original Little Mermaid, Juliet Capulet/Hélène de Chandroz/Shirin...)
• It emphasizes the theme. (Everybody in Flowers of War, all the dwarves in The Hobbit, and so many star-crossed lovers across cultures and historical periods.)
• It creates realism within the story world. (Everybody in Westeros)
• It removes an extraneous character. (Danny in Pearl Harbor.)

Bad Reasons to Kill a Character

Some less worthy reasons for doing our characters dirty include:

• Shocking readers just for the sake of shocking them. (Shock value isn’t without its, well, value, but not every author is Alfred Hitchcock and not every story is Psycho.)
• Making readers sad just for the sake of making them sad. (An old saw says, “If they cry, they buy.” But readers never appreciate being tortured without good reason.)
• Removing an extraneous character. (I know, I know. I just said that was a good reason. But you have to double-check this one. If the character is extraneous, then you better verify if s/he really belongs in this story in the first place.)

A Final Consideration Before You Kill a Character

Now that we have a grip on what makes a character’s death work within a story—and what’s sure to make it fail—we next have to consider what could end up being a crucial reason not to kill your character.

Every character in a story should be there for a specific reason. He’s there to enact a specific function (as we discussed in recent posts about archetypes and roles). If he doesn’t enact that function, then you have to question his purpose in the story. And if he does fill a role within your story, well, then ask yourself this: Who’s gonna fill that role if you kill him off?

Dramatica authors Melanie Anne Phillips and Chris Huntley explain:

Unless the functions represented by the discontinued player reappear in another player, however, part of the story’s argument will disappear at the point the original drops out. In the attempt to surprise an audience by killing off a major player, many an author has doomed an otherwise functional storyform.

How to Kill a Character: A Checklist

Lucky for our sadistic little souls, roles and archetypes can shift from character to character or be shared by several characters. In short: when a character dies off, his death doesn’t have to mean his role will be left vacant for the rest of the story.

With all this knowledge in mind, here’s a quickie checklist for figuring out if you can get away with murder:

• You have scrutinized the list of good reasons to kill off a character.
• You have identified one of the reasons as being present in your plot (or come up with a new good reason).
• You have identified what role and archetype your character fills in your story.
• You have created and positioned another character(s) to fill the hole left in your story by the doomed character’s death.

–or–

• Your story ends in a thematically satisfying way that doesn’t require the character’s role to be perpetuated.

Sometimes the death of a character can raise an ordinary story into something special. If you can justify a character’s death, then go for it! Special may be just around the corner.

THE CATTLE RAID OF COOLEY

Ahh, epics. The Exodus, the Trojan War, Orlando Furioso, Les Misérables, War and Peace... Nearly every culture has got a mastodontic tale of feats of daring-do. Stories which picture every aspect of human life as a true-to-life and harrowing, cathartic plotline gradually unfurls.

This article is meant to review what is so far my favourite epic of them all. And why? This riveting Celtic epic contains some of my favourite hallmarks:

• Strong women, 
• queer/sexually deviant heroes, 
• struggles for power, 
• a great overarching war sprung up from serious business
• a twist ending that leaves no one indifferent
• and a setting reminiscent of both the Kingdom of Rothgar in the Land of Venden or the Stormlands/Dornish Marches of Westeros (no urban areas at all, warrior nobility residing in Great Halls, gender equality), and the Holy Roman Empire of the Habsburgs (like Westeros as a whole, there are several semi-independent regional kingdoms, each with its own ruling dynasty, laws, etcetera, but all of them united by a common language and culture, and subordinate to a central liege lord [here titled High King]).

This is Celtic-era Ireland, a realm of solitary and waste places, waste places and hills, dotted here and there with a farmhouse, a hamlet, or a Great Hall of nobility or royalty. While the Romans and the Muslims live at the same time in decadence and in ostentation, this island nation is far harsher and more pristine.
The High King (at the time of the story, Conchobar [pronounced "Curkhoor"]) is lord of all the country lying for many leagues around; but every semi-independent province has its own royal dynasty and laws, being a vassal to the central power. One of these vassals is weak-willed Ailill ("Allele"), married (obviously, it was an arranged marriage) to the more powerful and fascinating Queen Medb ("Mayv").
This is a realm still untouched and unsullied by Christianity and by civilization. The solitary and waste places, a lonely hut far from the high-road, the farms and tilled fields, the hill-pastures, some lonely and desolate place, the waste places and the hills, the head of a valley, a little garden lying in a curl of the valley, in the centre of a lawn... The largest communities are all wooden towns. No Catholic priest or mason has landed here yet, and no money has been coined either: farm animals are used as currency, cattle (cows) being especially valuable (the 500-euro notes of the place and era).
This country-esque land is reminiscent, thus, of the Stormlands, and of the Kingdom of Rothgar in the Land of Venden, in the North Country, yet women here are as powerful as men, both at court and on the battlefield; and homosexuality is not condemned, but rather seen as yet another kind of love.
This is a story about war in this realm. About the absurdity of warfare, the power of women, and the weakness of men. And about how warfare and intoxication can break the strongest ties between family, friends, and lovers.
It would make up for a nice shonen OVA, or epic film, or Genesis-style concept album, or all three at once. So bizarre and so philosophical that I cannot give this story enough accolades.
Oh, and I give pronunciation for the names. The "kh" sound in the phonetic transcription is the initial sound in "khmer" or the g in Spanish "general".


The title of the epic?
Táin Bó Cúailnge. Or, in the Queen's English, The Cattle Raid of Cooley.
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Literature/TainBoCuailnge
So the story begins one night in the royal bed of Ailill's Great Hall, where we witness him having a marital spat with his wife, Queen Medb. Yes, this is the Queen Mab mentioned by Mercutio. Only that she was actually human and ten times more badass than Mercutio ever said.
Maybe this marital spat of royalty inspired the Bard for writing MSND. And what are they quarreling for? Not a changeling, but the wealth that both of them have added to their (obviously by their parents arranged) marriage...
Queen Medb ("Mayv") and King Ailill ("Allele") of Connacht are having a bit of a marital spat. Ailill is congratulating himself for having drastically improved his wife's standard of living.

"Says you," retorts Medb, maintaining that she brought just as much wealth to the marriage as he did.

So they decide to count it all up. And lo! It comes out exactly equal.

Exactly? Not quite. Ailill has everything his wife has plus an exceptional bull.

Crafty Medb hatches a plan. As it happens, there is another bull in Ireland that's as quality as Ailill's. It belongs to the Ulster cattle-lord Dáire ("Dare") mac Fiachna, so she sends a messenger to him asking to borrow it, promising to return it PLUS any calves it gets PLUS she'll have sex with him (Dáire mac Fiachna, not the bull).

Who could resist? But, unfortunately, just as Medb's messengers are getting ready to return with the good news, one of Dáire's servants overhears them say that they'd have taken the bull with or without its owner's permission.

Of course you realize, this means war.

Dáire backs out of the deal, and Medb gathers her forces to invade Ulster and take the bull. Unfortunately for Dáire, all of the Ulstermen are suffering from a mysterious illness caused by an ancient curse (having really painful stomachaches that lead to prostration, like childbirth pains) and can't defend the land. Their only hope is seventeen-year-old hero Cú Chulainn ("Coo Cullen"), who is not affected for reasons that are never satisfactorily explained (but have been rationalised in various ways, his youth - not being a man yet - and having been born outside Ulster being popular, aside from being a demigod). Cú Chulainn doesn't start out very well: he is on border duty when the invaders -fifty thousand strong- come, but is too busy chasing tail (of a wench) and lets them cross unopposed. When he finds out what's happened, he sends his dad to warn the king, Conchobar ("Cur-KHOOR"), and starts to harass the army with his sling, in guerrilla warfare (and shooting Maeve's squirrel as well as many men), before halting their advance by demanding single combat at river crossings.

A series of these combats follow, escalating in peril and opponent's skill in true shonen style - Conchobar doesn't show up with his army for months, thanks to the curse - and Cú Chulainn wins them all, although with increasing difficulty. Eventually, Fergus (his stepfather -mother's husband- and former king of Ulster in exile) is sent to fight him, but neither he nor Cú Chulainn can bring themselves to fight each other, and in any case Fergus has no sword - Ailill stole it while he caught Fergus in flagrante with Medb in her tent, and Fergus carved himself a wooden "dummy" one (a toy sword) to conceal the fact. They agree that Cú Chulainn will yield this time, and Fergus will yield the next time they meet, and the army advances to the next river, where the combats resume.
At one point, the Morrigan (goddess of warfare and death, who has also hidden the bull away to prolong the wall) turns into an eel, which Cú Chulainn ties into a bow; into an alpha wolf leading her pack, whose eye he puts out; and into a white cow leading a cattle stampede, whose four legs Cú Chulainn breaks. Later on, an exhausted and thirsty Cú Chulainn, resting after the umpteenth single combat, is given three cupfuls of milk by a one-eyed old crone with both her legs broken, milking a cow with three udders (guess who this old crone is? Right, the Morrigan, retaining the injuries received while transformed!). After he has drained the three glasses, the Morrigan is healed of her injuries and Cú Chulainn gains her protection.

After one such combat, Cú Chulainn lies wounded, and is tended by a sharply-dressed stranger in silks who happens to be the god Lug ("Lug" as in "lugnut"), who turns out to be Cú Chulainn's biological father. While he's out of action, the boys of Ulster awake from the curse, attack the invaders, and are slaughtered. The whole youth corps of fifty teens, having killed 150 of Medb's men before they fell. Cú Chulainn, now fully healed and armed with an over-spiky chariot (horses and all) and armour, and a cloak of invisibility returns to the fray, and seeing what's happened, goes into a ríastrad ("RAI-stad") or "warp spasm", becoming a hideous, unrecognisable monster who doesn't know friend from foe (basically, Hulking out), and revisits the slaughter on the Connacht army sixfold, in revenge for the decimation of the youth troops.

Then, as if nothing has happened, the single combats resume, and a new champion is sent to fight him - Fer Diad ("FUR-dia"), his best and most intimate friend -and senpai- from their days training in arms under the warrior woman Scáthach ("SCAR-HAWK"), who has mysteriously never been mentioned before. Medb had to get Fer Diad stinking drunk and goad him into saying some things about Cú Chulainn he couldn't take back before (using a whole chorus of bards to sing of Ferdiad's cowardice in a really offensive musical number) he'd agree to fight him. They fight for three days, the early chivalry, sportsmanship, and fond reminiscences of the times they used to share a bed -sending one another provisions after the fights- eventually giving way to grim, silent struggle. It's always a draw, neither one drawing the opponent's blood, both fighters' moves choreographed in perfect sync. After Fer Diad has been on top for a while, Cú Chulainn loses control, has another warp-spasm, and finishes it by ramming his special spear, the Gáe Bulg ("GUY BUL-ga"), the one Scáthach taught only him to use, right up Fer Diad's arse. The Gáe Bulg unfolds inside his senpai's colon and up the rest of his torso, like an umbrella with spiky ends. Of course Fer Diad, coughing up blood, dies quickly of internal bleeding.

After lamenting his dead chum, Cú Chulainn sits things out for a while, recuperating from his new wounds. Ulster warriors -for the Ulstermen have recovered from their pangs- come to his aid in ones and twos, until his dad (although not, as we now know, his real one, but his stepdad) finally makes it to king Conchobar and warns him of the invasion, but because he didn't follow the correct protocol he's about to be put to death. He tries to run away but only manages to decapitate himself on the sharpened edge of his own shield. But his severed head continues to cry out his warning to Conchobar, who finally gets the message and raises his army.

Big battle. Fergus gets Ailill to give him his sword back and advances against Conchobar, who he hates for murdering someone he'd sworn to protect, and is just about to kill him when another of his foster sons, Conchobar's son Cormac, stops him. Instead, he cuts off the tops of two nearby hills with one stroke of his sword.

Cú Chulainn, seeing Fergus advance, re-enters the fray despite his wounds and demands Fergus live up to their bargain and yield to him. Fergus agrees and pulls his forces off the field. The rest of the Connacht army see this, panic, and start to retreat. In the middle of all this, Medb has her period (although the monk who wrote it, not being overly familiar with female biology, gets a bit confused between blood and urine), and Cú Chulainn comes upon her as she's trying to clean herself up. He decides that, as he doesn't usually kill women, he'll have to protect her, and guards her retreat back to Connacht—with the bull, which had been captured at some point previously.

So Medb has lost the battle but gained her bull. But when she gets it home it takes one look at Ailill's bull, and it takes one look back, and they fight. The bull of Cooley kills Ailill's bull and wanders Ireland for a bit, creating placenames with bits of the dismembered carcass, before dying of exhaustion. So now nobody has a bull—Medb and Ailill are finally equal. Conchobar and Cú Chulainn have PTSD, but Fergus retains his sanity and has even become wiser. That's what happens, says Fergus, when a herd of horses is led by a mare, conveniently ignoring his own divided loyalties which were a major cause of the shambles the expedition turned into.


Basically, this is a harsh land of feudal kingdoms where everyone is a badass.
Beginning with Queen Medb herself. Her decision to take away the prized bull (just like Paris's spiriting away of Helen, only without the victim being human and female) kickstarts it all. The sure inspiration for Shakespeare's Mab and Titania, but leading an army into battle herself and as awesome as a warrior queen can be. (Boudicca my arse!) Like Madame Thénardier, Cersei Lannister, and Catherine the Great, she rules her weak and inept husband, aside from her household and her vassal realm, with an iron fist. A warrior, an adulteress, a cougar, and the ruler of the roost, who won't hesitate to intoxicate younger men (the name "Medb/Mab/Maeve" is related to "mead" and to the sweetness of intoxication) to bind them to her will, if not to use her only daughter Finnabar as reward for their pledge for loyalty (Of course all her suitors are killed fighting each other for her hand, and Maeve's daughter dies of a broken heart, racked with guilt at their death...).

Already at the tender age of FIVE (5!), Setanta, the boy who would become Cú Chulainn, routed High King Conchobar's 50-strong youth brigade (of young boys his age, everyone -including Setanta himself- armed with wooden spears and swords, fifty to one... curb-stomping them when he Hulked out!), just like Gustavus did to Tilly at Breitenfeld, impressing His Grace so much that the five-year-old was made commander of the whole unit.
Destined for a short and epic life, and to leave a lovely corpse after a few decades of fighting and living dangerously.
Cú Chulainn was originally called Setanta (conceived when his virgin mother drank from an enchanted spring to quench her thirst, in a completely non-supernatural way), until, as a little boy, he accidentally killed the smith Culainn's one-headed Cerberus of a hound dog and had to replace the beast (which he had choked to death throwing a dramatic hurling curveball in self-defence) himself, guarding the forge from a kennel outside on all fours. Since then, he is Cú Chulainn, literally "Culainn's hound dog." And what's more, he is as straight as a rainbow, i e as straight as Monsieur Gustave or Oberyn Martell (i.e. completely bisexual), while also sharing their panache and chivalry. Only when he is not furious. For, when at least irate, his face is as distorted as his mind is clouded, and the best thing to do is run for your lives. Basically, this young hopeful is the Incredible Hulk and the Gustavus Adolphus of this 'verse. Only that he's far more hot-blooded and made of badassium than any of them.
He may have let the foe cross the border while neglecting his guard duty (for the usual wench of the week), but his quest for redress and all of these epic combats make up for such a dreadful mistake.Cú Chulainn will prove as hard to kill as Rasputin, but he dies as young and as epically as you might have expected; in a none-shall-pass moment, tied to a large stone after a crippling carriage accident so he can keep on fighting, standing tied to this rock right before the Connacht army (thousands to one, and that one a Hulk with a broken spine!) and basically speared Saint-Sebastian-style until -right when the pain is the most intense- a raven, the Morrigan (goddess of warfare and death), comes to take his soul away to much needed respite.

Fer Diad is the Renly to Cú Chulainn's Loras (Fer Diad being the older, cool twentysomething and Cú Chulainn the younger, hot-blooded teenager as lovers). They were literally classmates and roomates and besties, senpai and kohai, and as adults, remain as thick as thieves, joined at the hip, like Renly and Loras, Kurogane and Fai, Gustave and Zero, Bud Spencer and Terence Hill. You get the picture. However, Queen Medb sows discord in between the two more-than-friends, intoxicating one of them for this purpose (like what Iago did to Cassio to make him lose Othello's trust! William Sh., have you read this story?), enticing him to drink in excess with the use of her own female charms and promises of love (not only is she presented as an infernal cupbearer, but also as a cougar!!!). The ethyl-induced rift succeeds, an intoxicated Fer Diad having been both bribed and provoked into fighting Cú Chulainn, and soon the once more-than-friends confront one another on the battlefield. What's more, the single combat lasts for three days, Fer Diad being invulnerable except for his natural orifices. After three days of relentless fighting, Cú Chulainn has a sudden eureka moment and thrusts his spear, the Gáe Bulg, into Fer Diad's anus and up his rectum, and further up, making him die from internal bleeding (sexual innuendo, anyone?). And that must hurt, for the Gáe Bulg, Cú Chulainn's weapon of choice, is a character in its own right and deserves its own paragraph.

The Gáe Bulg is Cú Chulainn's spear and weapon of choice. Made from sea monster bone (as cool a material for a blade as space rock iron, don't you think?) "The Gáe Bulg had to be made ready for use on a stream and cast from the fork of the toes. It entered a man's body with a single wound, like a javelin, then opened into thirty barbs. Only by cutting away the flesh could it be taken from that man's body." Imagine Fer Diad with the spear, which unfolds like an umbrella, inside his abdomen. That would be like having been rammed with a sharpened umbrella up the rear end...


Scáthach is one of the most interesting female characters in world literature. A "Chironette" of sorts, 

this veteran warrior gathers aspiring young heroes in a compound on her island of Skye to train them 

in every possible discipline, just like the wise old centaur did on Mt. Pelion in Mediterranean lore. With such a teacher, it comes as no wonder that Fer Diad, Cú Chulainn, Scáthach's own sons and daughter (she's a mentor, a soothsayer, and a mother!), and many others are such badasses like her!

PS. Scáthach is not an only child. She has an evil twin, called Aoife ("EE-fe"). Yes, you heard that right. Cú Chulainn defeated her in battle, but spared her life and impregnated her with his son Connla. Yes, you heard that right about worthy opponets.

Fergus, Queen Medb's lover and Cú Chulainn's stepfather (also Conchobar's stepfather/usurper), is yet another badass. A sensible and graceful loser, but also able to cut the tops of hills. And to fight with an ersatz wooden sword. The most "present-day" of all the characters, and still another star in this choral star system. No surprise that he's the only sane man in this world of large hams, badassium, and outrageous insanity.

The twist ending, an unexpected draw just like in, for instance, Oberyn Martell vs. Gregor Clegane, is both surprising and interesting because no one expected it at all. Such a coda leaves no one indifferent. This is not a classic war epic ending like the Greeks storming Troy or the French leaving Russia, which everyone expects to happen, but it comes in as a surprise and makes the story even more original and worthwhile.