《Kelim and The Necromancer (Quaraun Vol. 2)》 Kelim & The Necromancer Prologue ~o0o~ Kelim & The Necromancer The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane Volume 2 By EelKat Wendy Christine Allen ~o0o~ For two hundred years, Quaraun walked from one side of the planet to another. He wandered until he came to an ocean. Then he boarded a ship and a few months later found himself walking across a strange new country. He proceeded to roam until he again reached another ocean. There he got on another ship, continued to another province, and walked some more. The further he travelled, the more outlandish his outfits became. The more famous the bereft Elf Necromancer became, and the more he slew. Quaraun was formerly known as the Moon Elf wizard who helped people. Now identified as the insane Necromancer who kills without hesitation. Slaughtering anyone who dared provoke him. When Quaraun disembarked onto a new port, crowds trembled at his feet. Mothers clutched their children and fled. Solders dropped their weapons at his feet and pleaded for mercy. Never again an Elf persecuted and ridiculed by others. Legends of the Moon Elf Necromancer who possessed Thullid mind control had swept the globe. Parents used stories of The Pink Necromancer to intimidate their children and make them obey. People feared Quaraun more than they feared Thullids. For millennia, nothing was more dreaded than Thullids. The Thullids were monstrous creatures who''d fallen out of the sky centuries ago. Trapped, after their ship crashed into the planet. Thullids, in their true form, had tiny white, worm-like bodies covered with slender arms. They burrowed into a host body, ate its brain. Then attached their thousands of microscopic hairlike arms into the spinal nerves, taking complete control of the body they had occupied. True Demon possession. When they mature, they become jellyfish. Their bodies filled the host''s skull while the tentacles merged with the nerves. Thullids lack a defensible body and need to take over the host to exist. But they have unprecedented brainpower. All they had to do was think about it and it happened, no matter what it was. If a Thullid wanted you dead, all it had to do was look at you, wish you dead and POOF, you will die immediately. There wasn''t even time for POOF! You died so instantly that POOF didn''t have time to happen. That''s just how astoundingly fast it was. The younger the Thullid, the less control they had over their capabilities and the more chaotic they were. Spawnlings. Thullid, in their larval state, were dangerous if left to their own devices. Thullids lived in hives and scrupulously supervised their spawnlings to keep them out of mischief. Word went out that an abnormally powerful Thullid was without care of a hive. The Di''Jinn sent their priests to force him into their hive. Unfortunately for the Di''Jinn, they did not like horses. The infant Thullid in a young Elf''s body returned home with a wounded Unicorn. The Di''Jinn sent the horse to wander alone in the desert. Weeks later, the young Quaraun returned home to the Valley of the Moon Elves, saying the Di''Jinn had sent him home. They believed him. The Moon Elves had no reason not too. Only two people knew the truth. One: the little black eyed Unicorn that had watched the carnage unfold as every last Di''jinn wizard of the formidable Di''jinn order was reduced to ash in seconds as their bodies burst into flames, burning from the inside out. And two: ZooLock the high priest of the Temple of Ashgill, who had seen into the dark murderous thoughts of the young Quaraun, and knew what he was about to do, and was thus able to escape before Quaraun murdered the rest of the Di''jinn order with nothing but the words: "I wish you were all dead." The Thullids'' Di''jinn wizards were the most feared creatures in all the known universe, no one went up against them, their combined powers could bring a continent to it''s knees, and Quaraun had killed them in seconds, with nothing but a wish. Unknown to Quaraun, the Unicorn, was not a Unicorn, by something far worse. A Phooka, named King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. An evil, blood thirsty, black hearted creature who relished in blood shed and carnage and was mesmerized by what Quaraun had done to the Di''jinn and had followed him back to the Deep North, where he changed form and became a candy maker named BoomFuzzy. Gwallmaiic became obsessed with the Elf who had the ability to kill with a death wish, and left his lover Gibedon behind for Quaraun. But Quaraun knew none of this. Quaraun did not know that the horse he had saved, had in fact been BoomFuzzy in another form. While King Gwallmaiic stalked the Elf, fascinated by his powers and lost in an insatiable lust for Quaraun, ZooLock on the other hand, lived in mortal terror of the Moon Elf and fled to the farthest reaches of the world to get away from him, only to run into him at every turn. While their frequent crossing paths was nothing but a coincidence, ZooLock believed the Necromancer was hunting him and his terror of Quaraun knew no bounds. When ZooLock realized that Quaraun was looking for the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, he hatched a plot to find the enchanted map created by the Elf Eater and give it to Quaraun, knowing it''d send the Elf in circles on an endless wild goose chase, and thus keep Quaraun from crossing his path again. And thus Quaraun now had in his possession the Elf Eater''s famous enchanted map, and just as ZooLock had hoped, it was not being cooperative, and now Quaraun was hopelessly lost, as he tried to make his way back to the Deep North, only to find it always just around the corner and never in reach. Quaraun, unfortunately for many of his victims, wasn''t very smart, in fact, he could be safely called quite stupid, which was why he really had no idea that he was the one killing the people who dropping dead around him. He also had no clue that most of the people he talked to were ghosts and he, being a Necromancer, was the only one who could see or hear them, thus most people thought Quaraun insane when they saw him sitting and talking to no one. Terror seized the heart of the poor frightened Elf every time villagers started dropping like flies, which resulted in more people dying and the Elf becoming even more terrified. Quaraun himself believed that the Lich Lords were following him and killing everyone that got near him. He thus became ever more reclusive, avoiding heavily populated areas, fearing that he''d walk into a village and every one would drop dead. Quaraun had been raised by the Moon Elves. He had been raised as a Moon Elf. He fully believed that he was a Moon Elf. To the rest of the world, Quaraun was nothing but a Moon Elf. A very powerful Moon Elf. A Moon Elf with the powers of a Thullid. King Gwallmaiic and ZooLock alone, knew the truth, that Quaraun was a Thullid living in an Elf''s body. Even Quaraun himself did not know he was a Thullid. He sometimes suspected it but he pushed those thoughts out of his head as often as he could. Had he known for sure that he was a Thullid, he might have been more careful of the words "I wish." I wish¡­. They were Thullid words. Thullid wizards called themselves The Di''jinn, and granted wishes is what they did. Anything you wished for, the Di''Jinn would grant it. . . For a price. Each Di''Jinn had a different price. What the wizard wanted, depended on the wizard himself. Wishes were not to be taken lightly. Thullids were quick to enact punishment on anyone foolish enough to wish for vain or greedy things. To wish for one''s self was a dangerous thing, for one never knew what the wish granter would actually give you. No. Wishes must NEVER be taken lightly. Quaraun knew this. For Quaraun was himself a Di''Jinn. He knew it better then most the danger of wishes, for he was very adapt at granting wishes and tacking a price on to the wish. Quaraun kept written contracts for every wish he granted. Contracts signed in the blood of the wish granter. Blood that bound their souls to the paper. Bound their souls to Quaraun. Quaraun was apt to abuse magic, especially the soul binding ritual. His soul was broken. Souls. Souls were the problem. He wanted to heal it. What better way to heal a broken soul, than by stealing the souls of others? Tricking them out of their souls. Granting wishes for a price. The price of their soul. Few cared about their souls. Most scoffed at the thought of a soul. Not many people in this day and age believed in souls, so most people were quick to sign a contract. Greed. Lust. Gluttony. Anything they wanted. For free? Quaraun became a highly sought after wizard for hire, precisely because his prices were so cheap. Quaraun was very wealthy, he had no need for money. What he needed was a soul. And so he cast spells and made potions and magic items for anyone who asked. Made them for free. He asked for no money. Just your soul. Overjoyed by their good fortune, and thinking Quaraun too insane to realize what a fool he was to give away his goods for free, people flocked to him, more than willing to give away the soul, that they did not believe they had. Granting wishes was something the Di''''jinn did and Quaraun did try to avoid doing it, but when people were desperate, they wouldn''t take no for an answer, and who was he to deny granting the wish they were so willing to give up their soul for? Quaraun, glided gracefully across the room, to stand beside the pretty young wife. The Elf cupped his hand under her chin and pulled her face close to his. "Dear sweet, pretty girl. Your husband was right. You ARE very beautiful. Not as pretty as me, but still, lovely just the same. Do you know what happens to someone when they lose their soul?" "No," the girl squeaked, sounding terrified. "They die, ever so slowly. They turn into a Nzambie. They start to eat everything and everyone around them. Their need to drink blood and eat brains becomes insatiable. And in your case. . ." Quaraun''s gaze moved to the young woman''s pregnant belly. He slid his hand from her chin, down her breast, stopping on her belly. "Your baby will not survive. It''s soul, is connected to yours. It''s soul will go with your soul, out of your body, and into me. I''m a soul eater now. A side effect of being soul bound to a Lich. Half my soul is dead. Half his soul lives in me. Half my in him. But he died. Now I drink blood. I eat brains. Because I was in love, and I bound my soul to his. I was not careful with my wish. I didn''t think of the consequences. Why would I? I was young and foolish. I will be beautiful forever. Immortal. Unageing. But at a terrible price. I wished for love. Eternal love. Love that would never die and would last forever. Your father can''t kill me. Though he and his men, may try. But I can never die. Not while the Lich lives. I tried to warn your husband. I told him what had happened to me and what would happen to him and you, if he carried out his wish. But he said he didn''t care. Said he would have you at any price. He said you were his. But you didn''t love him. So he needed me, to cast a love spell. Grant his wish. He got his wish. But he didn''t pay me. you''ve had three glorious years of bliss. But every wish has a price. Payment is due today." Quaraun let go of the girl. "I didn''t hire you." She pleaded. "Deal with my husband, not me. You can''t force me to agree to any of this." "Your husband was unusual. Most care not for their soul. They will gladly sell it for love. But you he tried so hard to get you to love him, and you never noticed he was alive. Desperate, he came to me. He wanted your love. He wanted your hand in marriage. But he wasn''t willing to give up his soul. He loved himself, far greater than he loved you. He wanted you to love him, as much as he loved himself. But he did not desire to love you in return. No man who loves a woman, offers the price, your husband offered." "What did he offer?" "YOUR soul. And the souls of whomever were with you when I arrived. And look how many are here. Half your father''s kingdom is here to celebrate your child''s birth." "We can pay you money. My father is wealthy. . ." "I am Quaraun, The Pink Necromancer. Your father''s wealth is but a pittance next to mine. And I''m the most powerful sorcerer the world has ever known, I can get more money, whenever I need it. I''ve no need for your money. I need things that can not be so easily got. I need souls. I am the most beautiful being ever born. How old do you think I look?"You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. "You look very young. Younger than me." "I know. And yet I am more than 750 years old. Elves should only live 400 years. I''m twice the age I should be. And I''ve not aged in 500 years. I am immortal and I have eternal beauty and I have love that can never die even though my lover is now dead. That''s what I wished for. But it came at a price. I eat souls to survive and maintain my eternal, youthful beauty. I need your soul. I''m not evil. I don''t want to hurt your unborn child. I don''t want to take your soul." "Than don''t." "Too late. You don''t have a choice." "Why?" "Because I don''t have a choice," the Moon Elf said, shaking his head. "People who play with magic, wishes, and souls like they children''s toys, eventually learn the error of their folly. I must survive. I don''t want to die. I warned your husband to never sign a contract without reading it first. Especially not one written by a Necromancer." Quaraun turned to the man. "You are a fool. Prove to me you act on love not lust, I said, you have not done that. You selfish dick. A child already born and another on the way. Had you loved her, you would have waited, like you agreed to do in the contract. Ten years with no sex, and your souls would have been free. No longer bound to me. Prove your love was not lust, by never having sex with her. Prove you loved her, more than you loved yourself. You couldn''t do it. And payment is due on this the first birthday of your first child. You never loved her. You just wanted to sink your dick into her warm flesh. A man who loves would never sell the one he loves to save himself. You know nothing of love. . ." The girl looked to her husband: "What have done?" "It''s not like he says, he''s lying. He tricked me." "I deceived no one. You were too fast to save your own ass at any cost. Today is the first birthday of your first born child. Ten years have not yet passed. You couldn''t live with her, for ten years, without sex. Prove to me you loved her and didn''t just lust after her. Had sex never happened, the spell I cast would have erased itself 10 years from the day you signed it." "Quaraun," the young mother pleaded. "Please, I made no deal with you. I have no part in this. Please have pity." And such was life for Quaraun. An endless need to collect souls. Before binding his soul to BoomFuzzy''s, Quaraun had never done anything evil, illegal, or even remotely bad. Nor would he have. This was the price he had paid for eternal love. A price that he didn''t truly understand, until his lover commit suicide to become a Lich. Now he was alone. Soul bound to an undead creature, that was making it''s way across the planet decimating villages, slaughtering everyone in it''s path. And Quaraun, followed it, hunted it, in and endless search to find the Lich and destroy it. Kill it. Free himself of it''s grasp. Gloomy. Disappointed, and eternity unhappy. Quaraun wandered the world aimlessly. Always two steps behind the Lich. The Lich always eluding him, for it had part of his soul, and so, just as he always knew what the Lich was about to do, so too, did the Lich always know what Quaraun did. The Lich was no longer the man, he had loved. It was an undead creature incapable of feeling love or mercy, or even remembering that it had once been alive, once been in love. As the Lich became more soulless, so to, did Quaraun require more souls to stay alive. Lost. Troubled. Miserable. Grieving. The hopelessness of endless despair constantly crushing his mind. The Lich was out, killing again. Quaraun could feel it. He hated that he could feel it. Feel the joy the Lich felt as it obliterated towns, slaughtering with out mercy. Everything the Lich felt as it raped and murdered and plundered and destroyed everything in it''s path, Quaraun felt, and it was killing him. Quaraun needed to drown it out. Quaraun stared at the bottle of Green Fairy Wine. It''s minty, anise fragrance lulled him to it. A flavour as heavenly as it smelled. But even that came with a price. More drug than alcohol, Absinthe clouded his mind with hallucinations. The consequences of the delightful aromatic wine, was a clouded mind. The deliriously unhappy, lonely, heartbroken Elf didn''t want to deal with a hallucination right now. Hallucinations had become a regular part of Quaraun''s life these days. Besides drowning out the Lich, he had pain of his own he wanted to erase. Quaraun''s health was not well. He had immortality. But immortality did not mean, life without suffering. Life without pain. Quite the contrary. The aches and pains of old age, creaked through Quaraun''s muscles and bones. But one pain, worried him most of all. The pain in his head grew worse. It was a pain he had lived with since childhood. A Thullid parasite lived in his head, burrowed deep inside his brain, slowly eating it as it grew bigger, hollowing out the Elf''s body and taking over. The thought of the Thullid in his head and what it was doing to him, depressed him. He didn''t like thinking about it. He pretended it wasn''t there. He pretended he was still an Elf, that somewhere inside him, Quaraun the Elf still existed. He knew this wasn''t true. Quaraun the Elf had died centuries ago. Quaraun the Thullid was simply replicating his life, pretending to be the Elf, Quaraun had once been. To the innocent eye Quaraun appeared to be travelling with nothing. No pack. No weapons. No equipment. Nothing at all. Anyone meeting him on the street would presume him nothing more than an empty handed wandering merchant, for a merchant is what the heartbroken Moon Elf told people he was. He had begun avoiding telling people who he was. The rumours about him were too wide spread now. Every one knew the name of Quaraun the Insane, but few knew what the hermit Necromancer looked like or how he dressed. The fact that the lonely Elf Necromancer was a transvestite and easily mistaken for female was not mentioned in any of the rumours, nor was the fact that the mournful Elf wore eye-popping pink. Somehow, people neglected to mention these facts when spreading their slanderous lies about Quaraun. And so as long as no one knew his name, the nervous little Elf could pass safely through a village without striking terror into the hearts of those he passed, simply because they were on the lookout for an evil Moon Elf Wizard, not an elegant, Northern High Elf princess. Quaraun was cloaked in pink silk regalia. Dripping with glittering embroidered hearts. Massively encumbered in pink and verdant gemstone jewellery. And carrying nothing but a minuscule beaded pink heart-shaped purse. Quaraun looked every bit the aristocratic princess, he acted like he was. If the gloomy little Necromancer didn''t speak, you couldn''t tell he wasn''t a female Elf. Quaraun was not trying to be a female, nor did he pass himself off as one. He simply liked the fashions women wore and saw no reason why he couldn''t dress the same way. His voice did give his natural gender away. The shy, secluded, quiet Elf didn''t deny being a male if anyone asked. But with his social anxiety and selective mutism issues, the grief stricken Elf rarely spoke to anyone. Thus few knew that this lady in pink finery was in fact the world''s most remarkably formidable and most exceedingly powerful wizard. The primary problem with the way Quaraun dressed was the fact that most women did not actually dress like the reclusive little Moon Elf did. He dressed like a prostitute. Or at least, he dressed like what Human men considered being a harlot. In these times when sumptuary laws forbid females from wearing the kind of clothes Quaraun wore, only prostitutes dared wear such garb. Silks and cottons were exceedingly rare and in most places excessively taboo. Each of Quaraun dresses was embroidered with enough gems and pearls to buy a country. Quaraun had so many jewels on his dresses that he made King Edward III look dull and drab and everyone agreed that that was hard to do. Once men got done gawking at his clothes, the next thing they noticed was his long, silken, luxuriant bum length silver hair, which the skittish little Elf left unplaited, uncut, unstyled, and spent three hours every morning brushing until it gleamed and flowed fluid as silk. Human women kept their hair tamed somehow. Husband-less women braided their hair and twisted it into ram''s horns. Espoused women did the same but wore a veil to let men know they were owned. Only prostitutes wore their hair long and loose, a sign to men that they were both single and available with eagerly open legs. Unfortunately Quaraun was an Elf, not a Human, and he knew little of Human ways or Human laws, and was unaware that by dressing as he did and keeping his hair long and lose, Human men assumed him to be a prostitute begging for every man in the village to fuck her. This led to Quaraun having been raped or nearly raped on many occasions. Most horny Humans left him alone once they realized the stupid little Moon Elf was a male, but others didn''t care and raped him any ways. Once men got past seeing the clothes which said prostitute and the hair which also said prostitute, they saw his face. Everyone had always said Quaraun was the most beautiful being ever born. All Elves were beautiful, it was why their entire race was so vain, but even other Elves were envious of Quaraun''s looks. He had an unnatural beauty that took the breath away from anyone who laid eyes on him. The end result was every male he meet, Elves, Humans, Dwarves, Thullid, and Gnomes alike, wanted to jump in bed with Quaraun and expected to be able to do so, thinking that the timid little Moon Elf was both a female and a whore. Quaraun could get help from any male he meet, in any village. He was the most exceptionally beautiful Elf any one had ever laid eyes on and he knew it. Boy did he know it. Vanity. Arrogance. Ego. Pride. Pretension. Self-admiration. Conceitedness. Hubris. Ostentation. Disdain. Narcissism. Quaraun excelled at these things. He made an art of these things. It was his entherial good looks that made him so damned arrogant, stuck up and pompous. And with everyone thinking he was a female, the silver haired, pearly skinned, azure eyed Elf had males everywhere eating out of his hands, lining up and begging to serve him, just to get a close up glimpse of his astounding beauty. This often lead to trouble, as men were rarely content just to look at the mesmerizing beautiful Elf and usual the men expected Quaraun to repay their help with sex. In every town he entered, Quaraun ran up against someone who wanted to rape him and was bold enough to try. Quaraun was very small and very thin, and was every bit at frail as he looked. Standing only 5''6¡å tall, most women were taller than he was. Elves were usually very tall. Quaraun was always the shortest Elf anyone had ever seen. Most Humans were taller then he was, not just their men, but their women too, in fact their children were often taller than Quaraun. So this increased the perception that he was female, but it also made him physically too weak to fight off most Human attackers. Quaraun with his vanity was quick to take anything offered him, but often the men doing the offering expected sex in exchange. There were several problems, first being that regardless of what he looked like, Quaraun was still a male and most men coming after him, wanted a female, so once the discovery was made, that there was male genitals under his skirts, Quaraun often found himself with a knife to his throat or in his side as was the most recent case. The second problem was the fact that even if the man coming after him, didn''t care that he was male and was willing to fuck him any ways, Quaraun was a wizard of the Di''jinn order and had taken a vow of celibacy and thus had no interest in sex. He was for lack of a better term, an uncastrated eunuch. Quaraun was very adamant in not breaking his vows, so adamant that in spite of his love and desires for BoomFuzzy, the two had never had sex, which was certainly not from a lack of trying on BoomFuzzy''s part. BoomFuzzy would have ravished the Elf daily had Quaraun let him. Mostly uncastrated. Quaraun''s scars were another issue entirely. Quaraun was vain enough, that were his entire body beautiful, he probably would have run around naked, but his belly, groin, thighs, and genitals were badly mutilated and covered in horrifically disfiguring scars. But all of this contributed to the problem Quaraun had when travelling on the road. For he looked every bit to the Humans as a prostitute begging to be fucked and he appeared to be carrying nothing with him, save a small purse that hung from his belt and could not possibly have held more then 10 coins in it. While Quaraun was blessed with beauty, he wasn''t blessed with brains. Quaraun was too stupid, too vain, and too scatterbrained to think to not look so vulnerable and was often left to wonder why he was so often attacked by gangs of horny men dropping their pants and trying to fuck him. It was a frequent occurrence for men, bandits, highwaymen, camped beside the road for the night, to see Quaraun, think he was a she, and the she was a whore, and so ask him to join their camp and stay the night. Quaraun dim-witted and forgetful as he was, never realized their intentions, would agree to share their camp, only to quickly find himself pinned to the ground being groped and undressed by a group of men whom hadn''t had anything to fuck in weeks and, once discovering the reluctant Elf was a male, were not about to let that get in the way of what they had started. Quaraun always managed to get away with the help of Pocket Lich, his pet DracoLich. The dark, demonic, undead dragon would catch the rapists by surprise. Some horney humans fought the enormous, ominous onyx dragon. Others dragged Quaraun into the bushes, still intending to rape him, dragon or no dragon. Quaraun often ended up with badly bruised arms and legs where the men had restrained him. Poor Quaraun. Surely the men would kill him. The men would have beaten the poor, frightened, frail, sickly little Elf to death while raping him. But the DracoLich mysteriously materialized and greedily gobbled up the men. To the untrained eye, it would have seemed that the DracoLich should have eaten Quaraun as well. The men were too quick to assume the Elf unarmed and carrying nothing. Examining his belt revealed a singular, sinister truth. But therein lay the illusion, for Quaraun was a tailor, a jeweller, and a wizard. Before his people died, Quaraun had lived a simple life. Quaraun sewed heavily embroidered clothes and accessories for fine ladies and wealthy Wizards. His specialty had been colourful gemstone jewellery, luxuriant velvet capes, and shimmering silk robes bequeathed with magical powers. At his hip was a little heart-shaped bag that was far bigger on the inside. Large enough on the inside to house a massively big black dragon, along with the dragon''s mountain full of glittering gold. The DracoLich was Quaraun''s pet and he kept her safe and sound in his pocket. Once aware the men intended to rape him, the discombobulated little Necromancer pulled the Dragon out of his bag of holding. Thus she appeared seemingly out of no where. From Quaraun''s belt hung a small, insignificant looking pink heart shaped pouch. It resembled a sachet, heavily embroidered with beads and bullion. The pouch no bigger than his fist. Within it was anything Quaraun thought he might need on his journey. Including a tent which would well serve his sleeping outside at night. Quaraun stood in the road, look at his map, than looking up at the sky to study the clouds. He was growing tired and wanted to stop and rest. He could see a think forest up ahead, and thought it would be a good place to set up his little tent and sleep. But the clouds hung low in the sky, dark and grey, while thick fog rolled in. "Snow", the Moon Elf muttered to himself. "Damn. No time to stop. I need to get to the village before the snow gets too deep to travel." Quaraun rarely slept in public houses, inns, apartments or taverns. He only stayed at such places when he was sick or wounded and needed a safe place for extended rest. Or when the weather was ill fitted for sleeping outdoors. He would have slept in his tent tonight, where it not for the black storm clouds rising up on the horizon. Quaraun said he preferred to sleep indoors, stating that he was an emperor and emperors sleep in beds. But, when presented with the choice, he choose sleeping outside instead. On warm dry nights, he lay on the grass, watching the moon. On cooler nights he lay on a thin bedroll, in his pink striped tent, instead. Quaraun had been a travelling vagabond wizard for many decades now. He''d grown used to sleeping outdoors. He enjoyed being outdoors. Being inside buildings made him feel trapped. Uncomfortable. It had snowed last night. It would snow again this night. Quaraun knew he must find a place to seek sturdier shelter for the night. The heart shaped bag held more than just a dragon and a tent. The bag on Quaraun''s belt contained an entire house full of items. His massive mostly pink wardrobe. A myriad of magic weapons he never used. Shelves full of potions, he had pre-made for selling. All his sewing and magic item crafting equipment. Food. The heads of those whom he had killed. The hearts of his murder victims. Rumour had it that the eccentric Elf Necromancer kept his dead wife in this little heart shaped bag to one day resurrect her. Of course, this rumour was only partly true. He had every dead Moon Elf in his pocket. And had no intention of resurrecting any of them. He simply liked being reminded that were all dead, exactly as they should be. When the melancholy little Necromancer got tired need to rest, he pulled out a bedroll. When he needed a place to sit, out came a big carved gold throne with overstuffed pink velvet cushions. And in case the bizarre little Elf ever decided to settle down, the palace of the Moon Elves was also in his pocket. His shop and BoomFuzzy''s house were both in his pocket as well. Quaraun had no need to look for a place to spend the night. All the forgetful Elf had to do was pull a house out of his pocket and be safe and dry. Quaraun was too stupid to think of that and so he bemoaned the oncoming snow storm bearing down around him. Quaraun hated to set up camp, and have it get soaking wet. He felt there was nothing worse then trying to stuff a wet tent back into its little heart shaped pouch. Pocket Lich was very important to Quaraun, for he had no other means of protection. To lose Pocket Lich was to lose the only defence he had. Chapter 2: ZooLock Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! BoomFuzzy (Quaraun Vol. 3) Seven centuries before he became The Pink Necromancer, Quaraun was just a common ordinary Moon Elf, who made the mistake of falling in love with the world''s most feared tyrant war criminal: King Gwallmaiic, The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, King of the Faeries. Mesmerized by the evil Phooka''s charm, Quaraun moves into the manically depressed King''s gingerbread house, becoming his lover and apprentice, as the shape-shifting Phookan King mascarades around the Moon Elf Villages as the seemingly harmless pastry chef and candymaker: BoomFuzzy the Unicorn. But all hell breaks loose when the ancient king is driven to suicide, and Quaraun in turn murders his wife and children in an attempt to resurrect the Elf Eater as a Lich.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. WARNING: This story contains graphic scenes of torture, mutilation, and suicide. Reader discretion is STRONGLY ADVISED! Prologue ~o0o~ BoomFuzzy The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane Volume 1 or 3 (depending on your sense of time line; time travel makes it difficult to number these volumes) by EelKat Wendy Christine Allen ~o0o~ No matter where you go in the world, everyone knows the story.... Once upon a time there was an evil Faerie King turned Necromancer who hated Elves, lead his armies marching across the world slaughtering every Elf in every village he passed. When he grew old, he murdered his 13 generals and turned them into Liches, then he commit suicide to turn himself into a Lich too. Together the Lich Lords continued their reign of terror, slaughtering Elves across the planet. One day they came to a village where lived a powerful Wizard. As they did everywhere they went, the Liches slaughtered the Elves. Every last one.... except the Wizard, who somehow survived. Now the last of the Moon Elves roams the world in search of the Liches who killed his people. Becoming ever more powerful, learning all he can, becoming the world¡¯s most feared and most powerful Wizard.... a Lich Hunter hell bent on vengeance, out to save the world and destroy the monsters who destroyed his people¡­ No matter where you go in the world, no one knows the truth.... Once upon a time there was a sad and lonely Elf, cast out by his people for being too different, too emotional, too liberal, too accepting of non-Elves, too willing to accept half-Elves as valuable members of society. Cast out of his society, left to die in the desert. He was rescued by a tribe of Demons who taught him their ways and their magic.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. When his Demon ¡°family¡± was killed, he returned to his real family, only to be treated far worse than he had been before. Beaten, tortured, mutilated, traumatized, cut off from the Elven hive mind, and left hanging upside down in a tree in the forest, bleeding to death, used by his own people as bait to catch an evil Elf Eating Faerie King. The King of the Faeries - a vicious war lord, found the gutted Elf hanging in the tree and took pity on a wounded Elf Wizard and nursed him back to health. For 30 years they lived together. The two became lovers. For an Elf and a Faerie to be lovers was forbidden by Elf law. The Elves viciously attacked and tortured them both. Mortally wounded, the Faerie King commit suicide to end his suffering rather than linger on in agony for weeks. Devastated, the Elf used the magic he¡¯d learned from the Demons to resurrect the Faerie King as a Lich. And now the Elf, a Necromancer with a Lich at his command, unleashed the Lich on the Elves to punish them for killing his lover. With every Elf dead, the Lich escaped its bottle, not returning to its Necromancer. Now, Quaraun, the last Moon Elf, The Pink Necromancer, driven to the brink of insanity, murderer of the other Elves, roams the planet, a Lich Hunter, not hunting Liches to kill them and save the world, but rather searching for his undead lover that they may be reunited, caring nothing for the world or anyone in it, desiring only to be with his lover once again. Serial killer, time traveller, builder of the Twighlight Manor.... these are the Adventures of Quaraun the Insane. NOW... ~o0o~ Seven decades ago, the royal family of the Moon Elves was attacked by Thullids, with the King, his sister-in-law, and her infant son all becoming infested by a parasite that burrows into the brain, slowly eating it, and eventually taking control of the Elf¡¯s body. When the King¡¯s brother murders discovers his wife and son are dead bodies animated by the Jellyfish living in their brains, he murders his wife then turns on his son. The King rescues the infant and sends him away to live with a sacred order of Wizard-priests known as the Di¡¯Jinn. Meanwhile terror is spreading across the globe as the Necromancer King Gwallmaiic and his army of Phookas, Dark Elves, and Liches, march across the world slaughtering every Elf in their path, only to vanish into the deserts of the Di¡¯Jinn and not be seen for nearly a century. Now 70 years have passed and the young prince of the Moon Elves is grown up and has returned to the village, wearing the neon pink robes of a Thullid priest. While the Moon Elves are up in arms over the many laws their prodigal crown prince is breaking, a mysterious gingerbread house falls out of the sky and with it a half-Elf named BoomFuzzy who has all but one Moon Elf eating out of his hands. When the prince tells the others, it¡¯s not a gingerbread house, but a monstrous flesh-eating castle made of bones. They locked him in a tower calling him insane. Blinded by their addition to gingerbread made of poppies and mushrooms, the Moon Elves sit idly by as the Elf Eater¡¯s army surrounds their village, and when they turn on the only person who can save them from the Necromancers trap, crown prince Quaraun, turns his back on his people and joins forced with The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, becoming the Necromancer¡¯s apprentice in a plot to kill every Moon Elf who ever hurt him. Chapter 1 Part 1 of 2: Three hundred and thirty years before Quaraun met Unicorn… ~o0o~ Three hundred and thirty years before Quaraun met Unicorn... Quaraun returned to the Moon Elf Valley in the deepest, darkest and most extreme region of the Deep North. The Deep North was cold. Cold and silent. Silent and cold. Cold and quiet, quiet and cold. The crisp, clean, cold smell of snow was everywhere. The cold was all over, every which way, everyplace, far and near, far and wide, high and low, left and right, right and left, throughout. The brisk, bitter cold bore a distinctive smell. It smelt of crisp, clean, empty nothingness. The taste of cold hung in the air. It was as bland and flavourless as the frozen water it is. The cold was as smooth and tasteless as ice water. All Quaraun could think of was the cold and how cold the cold was. ¡°I forgot how cold it was here,¡± the Moon Elf announced to no one in particular. There abided no one to talk with. It had been days since the last person he¡¯d seen. Weeks since the last village. In his years spent with the Di¡¯Jinn, Quaraun became accustomed to the sweltering desert. Now he was back home for the first time since childhood. He had forgotten how bitterly cold his snow filled homelands were. He further forgot how contemptuous, stuck up, and snobby his people transpired to be. And how much they detested any, even trivial, break from consistency. While the Moon Elves could tell one from another, no one else could tell the Moon Elves apart. Their need for consistency reached an alarming level. Every Elf wore indistinguishable tunics of silvery, icy robin¡¯s egg blue with white embroidery. Every she-Elf wore dresses of silver-blue colours. Every Elf had shoulder-length hair of identical cut. Every she-Elf kept their long locks piled high on their heads. No one ever thought of not dressing exactly like everyone else. No one ever thought of not looking like everyone else. It wasn¡¯t done. It wasn¡¯t allowed. In their minds, they achieved perfection. Obviously, to deviate from perfection is to be inferior. Inferiority could not tolerated. The Moon Elves possessed cult-like adhesion to doing everything exactly the same as each other. They were more than willing to kill any Moon Elf that dared stray from their carbon copy existence. But Quaraun had forgotten this. Thus, Quaraun thought nothing wrong with wearing a long, flamingo pink dress. He liked pink. He disliked male fashion. He saw no reason a woman could not wear a man¡¯s clothes or a man could not wear a woman¡¯s clothes. And he forgot Moon Elves were not allowed to be different or look different or act different. Pink was not a colour Moon Elves could wear. It simply was not allowed. Furthermore, punishment for a male Moon Elf to wear a she-Elf¡¯s dress was flogging and prison. And then there was Quaraun¡¯s hair. Moon Elves all had white hair. And there were only two hairstyles. One for the males and one for the females. Nothing else was allowed. But, Quaraun had neither hairstyle. Quaraun, being a wizard, he believed he would lose his ability to use magic if he cut his hair. And so 70 years passed since Quaraun¡¯s hair had last been cut. Quaraun¡¯s hair was a sight to behold. It reached to the ground, and he frequently tripped over it, for it often got under his feet. Quaraun could not care for his luxuriant locks on his own. He had required servants to both help him wash and brush his hair. The servants also had to carry his hair over their shoulders when he walked. Among the many things Moon Elf law forbade Moon Elfs from doing, was also going outside in the sunlight. A Moon Elf¡¯s pure white hair would discolour in the sunlight, becoming darker. Having lived in the deserts of Persia for so many years, Quaraun had spent a great deal of his life outside in the sun. Quaraun loved the feel of the sun¡¯s warmth kissing his skin. Quaraun¡¯s white hair had taken a silver grey tint over the years. At times his hair looked almost violet-blue. It was a beautiful shade of icy blue, silvery steel grey. It gleamed in the sun, like liquid mercury. Likewise, Quaraun¡¯s skin had grown dark from the sun. While still paler than everyone else, still whiter than even the whitest Human, he was much darker than any other Moon Elf. All these things were forbidden. Wearing pink. A male, dressing like a female. And wearing pink. Letting his silken silver hair grow long. Styling his hair in an unauthorized fashion. Or rather refusing to style his hair at all. Instead, letting it hang, long, loose, seductive, and earthy around his feet. Going outside while the sun was up. Letting his hair darken to a colour other than white. Letting his skin grow tan in the sunlight. And of course wearing pink. Quaraun was a forgetful Elf. His brain had been damaged long ago when he was still a small child. Only 3 years old. He and his mother had been out on the shore, watching the harbour seals. A stranger attacked them. Quaraun had slipped on the ice covered kelp and hit his head on a rock in the icy tidal pool. He did not remember this. He had been too young. But remember it or not, he had suffered brain damage still the same. It made him slow and somewhat stupid. Intelligence and logic were things Quaraun lacked. There were many things Quaraun could not do, much to his frustration. The Di¡¯Jinn had tried to teach him numbers and equations, science and medicine. They had high hopes of raising him as a great mathematician or scientist. Instead, Quaraun was a tailor. He spun wool and silk into thread. Then wove the thread into soft delicate silk. Then embroidered the shimmering silk with dainty flowers. Then added tiny glass seed beads. And then finally, cut the soft, slippery silk, and sewed it into fabulous glistening dresses, scarfs, sari, veils, hijab, hats, bags, and slippers. And all in shades of pink. This was Quaraun¡¯s talent. Weaving silk, embroidering silk, and sewing luxuriant silk dresses. Quaraun was exceptionally good at what he did, but he wasn¡¯t good at anything else. He possessed no head for numbers or science. He could not remember dates or histories or equations or calculations. Philosophies, theologies, and politics were too deep for him to understand.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The Di¡¯Jinn found Quaraun to be an overly sensitive Elf. Sights, sounds, smells, all sent him screaming for the safety of hiding under pillows. They tried to teach him music, but he complained that the sound of music hurt his ears. Most strong scents irritated his nose. Highly seasoned flavours and spicy foods, overpowered his senses. Fast movements and energetic activities terrified Quaraun, making him nervously tremble with fear. Dancing, running, and playing were all activities he refused to do. Nor could not bear others around him doing either. The Di¡¯Jinn tried as best they could to teach Quaraun everything they knew. But none of it stuck in Quaraun¡¯s dim, slow-witted little brain. After decades of fruitless effort to teach Quaraun the knowledge that wise old sages, mages, and wizards were supposed to know, they finally gave up. The Di''Jinn concluded that Quaraun was just too stupid to be taught. Something was desperately wrong with his brain. Quaraun was savant. He had a few things he could do, and those things he did immeasurably well. But everything moved through Quaraun¡¯s brain like water in a sieve. He retained nothing and forgot everything. But he could embroider beautifully. And so the Di¡¯Jinn worked with what they had. And they taught Quaraun to use magic, not through mathematics, star charts, planetary movements, words written on scrolls, numbers, or science. Instead, they taught Quaraun magic through sigils, veve, runes, hieroglyphs, and picture art. Things Quaraun could draw with yellow chalk on his handwoven pink silks, then embroider into the cloth. They later discovered the young Elf had a talent for glass-work as well. He took to making his own glass beads. Quaraun obsessed over colours and lined things up in rainbow colour order. Quaraun spent hours making beads, then stringing beads, carefully sorting them by colours. So the Di¡¯Jinn taught him colour magic, and the magic of prayer beads. Before long, Quaraun progressed from making tiny colour blown glass beads, to also making tiny colour blown glass bottles. And these, the Di¡¯Jinn taught Quaraun how to capture Genies and trap them in bottles and force them to grant wishes. The Di¡¯Jinn lost hope of Quaraun ever becoming the powerful wizard they had hoped he could be. Until the day they all died and realized the error of what they had done. Without mathematics, without science, without star charts, without calculations, armed only with coloured glass bottles for of wish granting genie and wearing carnation pink silk, embroidered with colourful magic bead sigils, Quaraun became the most powerful being the world had ever known. And this had attracted the attention of the world¡¯s other most powerful wizard. Quaraun, with his fractured skull and damaged brain, was prone to forget things. And so he forgot that he had killed the Di¡¯Jinn, and he forgot the laws of the Moon Elves, and he forgot how truly evil his father really was. And thus he now trended through the icy cold snow on the Eastern shores of Lake Gitchigumi, leaning heavily on a wooden staff, in search of the only town in the region with a name: Ivujivik. He forgot many things. He often forgot things only a few hours after they had happened. Seventy years passed since Quaraun last visited Ivujivik, Quebec, the town where he had been born. A town that sat on top of the Earth, devoid of anything but ice and snow. And more ice and snow. And spotted grey harbour seals. And ivory white polar bears. And pristine, sparkling white snow. And shimmering silvery ice. And blustery winds. And snow. And ice. And more snow. ¡°Why is there so much snow?¡± No one answered him. There was no one to answer him, nor did he actually want an answer. Quaraun was just frustrated by how wet his dress was and cold his feet were. He forgot about the snow. Or rather he had forgotten how much snow there was. And he had forgotten how cold the snow was. And wet. Snow was wet. Quaraun had forgotten snow was wet. ¡°Why is snow wet?¡± Quaraun asked himself as he stared down at his wet shocking pink silks. ¡°I¡¯m cold and wet and I hate it.¡± Quaraun sighed a deep sigh and stood up to his knees in snow and wondering if he was even going the right way. Ivujivik was North. He could remember that much. But it wasn¡¯t on any map. No place around here was. In fact, this entire country wasn¡¯t on the map. Humans in Europe refused to believe anything existed on the West side of the Atlantic Ocean. Quaraun had been born in Ivujivik. His family lived there. His father. His father¡¯s brother. His older sisters. This much he could remember. But Quaraun had been 9 years old when they sent him away to live with the Di¡¯Jinn in Persia on the other side of the planet. Quaraun could not remember exactly where Ivujivik was. He also could not remember his father¡¯s name. Or his uncle¡¯s name. Or the names of his sisters. He couldn¡¯t remember how many sisters he had. Or his mother¡¯s name. She was dead. He missed his mother. She loved him. His father hated him. Quaraun dreaded going back home to see his father. But a glimmer of hope that maybe his father had changed, drove him onward through the snow, in search of Ivujivik. Ivujivik was the furthest North one could go by, going straight up and slightly West from Saco Bay. Which is what Quaraun was doing. He¡¯d arrived at Saco Bay a month ago. Was it a month ago? Quaraun wasn¡¯t sure. He wasn¡¯t good with dates and times, or even numbers in general. He wasn¡¯t even sure what year it was or how old he was. He calculated it would take somewhere between 1 to 3 months from Saco Bay to Ivujivik if he walked the entire way. Shorter if weather was agreeable - it was not. Longer if weather was bad - which it was. Weather was very abominable. Plus, there were other issues besides weather, slowing him down. Namely, his hair. He pulled a brush out of his bag and nervously brushed his hair. Quaraun got great satisfaction from brushing his hair. It soothed him. Relaxed him. Calmed him. Excited him. Quaraun¡¯s love for his hair bordered on being a fetish. He brushed his hair when he was upset to sooth his anger. He brushed his hair when he was aroused to quell his erection. Most would have found the sexual pleasure Quaraun took from brushing his hair as deeply disturbing, had they known just how much satisfaction Quaraun got out of simply running his fingers through his long silken hair. To say that Quaraun was in love with his hair was an understatement. And the hours he spent each day, doing nothing but brushing and stroking his hair, had often left the Di¡¯Jinn at their wit¡¯s end. For once Quaraun began brushing his hair, he would sit for hours and do nothing but. And no one could bring him out of the self-induced erotic state he put himself into while brushing his hair. Quaraun had never had a lover. He¡¯d never had a need for one. The affair he had with his own hair was more than enough. He brushed his hair whenever he was nervous, as a way to calm his nerves and ease his nauseated stomach. Brushing his hair, however, was not an easy feat. With hair like Rapunzel, it took more than one person to brush Quaraun¡¯s hair. Quaraun¡¯s white hair was over five feet long and dragged on the ground. Back in Persia, Quaraun used to have servants to brush his hair for him. It took them 3 hours every morning to brush the Elf¡¯s mind-mindbogglingly long hair. ¡°My hair is wet,¡± Quaraun sputtered as he put his silver brush away. It was pointless to try to brush it while the lower 3 feet of it were dragging in the snow. He knew if he tried to brush his hair while it was wet and caked with snow and ice, he would damage it. Split ends were enough of an issue, as it was without doing more damage. Quaraun¡¯s fetish for hair led Quaraun to have strange thoughts about strange things. Like Cotswold Sheep and their long, luxuriant ivory wool, which he often spun into thread for his embroidery. Quaraun was prone to sit for hours, half buried in piles of fresh sheered Cotswold Sheep wool, touching it and rubbing in his hair. Quaraun was an Elf of strange habits and his fetish for long hair was perhaps his strangest. His fetish for long hair is what had led to his most alarming obsession of all: his inexplicable lust for The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Quaraun grumbled and complained to himself about all the reasons the snow was messing with his hair, and took comfort in cursing the snow as he was currently unable to take comfort in brushing his hair. A more logical person would have cut their hair to a more manageable length while travelling, but Quaraun was neither a smart nor logical person. He was very vain and very superstitious. He was in love with the beauty of himself, spent endless hours fussing over the glory that was his silver hair, and had read in several tomes that the world¡¯s most powerful wizards were powerful because they never cut their hair. In fact, Quaraun had only become a wizard so that he could have an excuse for why his hair was so long. It was easier to say: ¡°I¡¯m a wizard. We wizards don¡¯t cut our hair¡± than it was to try to explain the unhealthy obsessive love affair Quaraun had with his own hair. Plus, being a wizard gave Quaraun an excuse to be close to other men who had incredibly long hair. Quaraun had joined The Guild of Wizardry grudgingly. He had no interest in sitting at stuffy meetings listening to rules and regulations being made about magic. However, it only took one Guild meeting to change his mind. The Guild was filled with hundreds of beautiful men, all with long, luxuriant hair. Quaraun took to attending every Guild meeting just so he sat in a room full of gorgeous long-haired men and lust after them. Lusting after long-haired men or every race and species had become a bad habit for Quaraun. Elves. Dwarves. Humans. Gnomes. Demons. Faeries. Merrow. Trolls. Goblins. Merfolk. Ursiug. Diontites. Ptarmagins. Pixies. ¡°God I hate Pixies,¡± Quaraun muttered. ¡°Why am I thinking about Pixies?¡± Quaraun looked down at the paper in his hand. How long had he been holding it? He didn¡¯t know. He could not remember taking it out of his bag. Quaraun had absentmindedly pulled out a scroll and had been writing down a list of names of every race he could think of, whom had hair that he liked. He put the scroll back in his bag. Quaraun didn¡¯t care what they were, so long as they were males with long, gorgeous hair. ¡°Ursiug has beautiful hair. Probably the most beautiful hair of anyone. I have never met an Ursiug. I wish I knew an Ursiug. It would be nice to meet one someday, just to see their hair in person.¡± Ursiug were sheep people. A type of chaos demon, with the upper body of a humanoid-Elf-like being and the lower body of a Cotswold Sheep. The hair on their heads and the fur on their legs grew into long ivory ropes of wool. It was luxuriant and soft and Quaraun wanted one for a pet. Quaraun spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about hair. His hair. And everyone else¡¯s hair. The Night of the Screaming Unicorn (Quaraun Vol. 1) The Pink Necromancer, Quaraun, is caught in a storm and forced to seek shelter in The Screaming Unicorn Inn, where he is reunited with his dead, now resurrected as a Lich, lover BoomFuzzy the Unicorn. If you was wondering where to start when reading the Quaraun series, it is recommended that you Read The Night of the Screaming Unicorn first as it is the story that introduces both Quaraun and his primary lover BoomFuzzy the Unicorn.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Is is generally recommended to read Vol 3 BoomFuzzy next, than Volume 5 Into The Swamp of Death Third. Yes, I know, out of the Volume order, but those 3 volumes will give you everything you need to know backstory-wise, to be able to follow along with the rest of the series. Prologue ~o0o~ THE NIGHT OF THE SCREAMING UNICORN The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane Volume 1 or 3 possibly 10 No, you don''t have to read this series in order, so it doesn''t matter. by EelKat Wendy Christine Allen ~o0o~ ~o0o~ No matter where you go in the world, every one knows the story.... Once upon a time there was an evil Faerie King turned Necromancer who hated Elves, lead his armies marching across the world slaughtering every Elf in every village he passed. When he grew old, he murdered his 13 generals and turned them into Liches, then he commit suicide to turn himself into a Lich too. Together the Lich Lords continued their reign of terror, slaughtering Elves across the planet. One day they arrived at a village where resided a powerful wizard. As they did everywhere they went, the Liches slaughtered the Elves. Every last one.... except the wizard, who somehow survived. Now the last of the Moon Elves roams the world in search of the Liches who killed his people. Becoming ever more powerful, learning all he can, becoming the world''s most feared and most powerful wizard.... a Lich Hunter hell bent on vengeance, out to save the world and destroy the monsters who destroyed his people¡­ No matter where you go in the world, everyone knows this story, and yet, no one knows the truth.... Once upon a time there was a sad and lonely Elf, cast out by his people for being too different, too emotional, too liberal, too accepting of non-Elves, too willing to accept half-Elves as valuable members of society. Cast out of his society, left to die in the desert. He was rescued by a tribe of Demons who taught him their ways and their magic. When his Demon ¡°family¡± was killed, he returned to his real family, only to be treated far worse than he had been before. Beaten, tortured, mutilated, traumatized, cut off from the Elven hive mind, and left hanging upside down in a tree in the forest, bleeding to death, used by his own people as bait to catch an evil Elf Eating Faerie King. The King of the Faeries - a vicious war lord, found the gutted Elf hanging in the tree and took pity on a wounded Elf wizard and nursed him back to health. For 30 years they lived together. The two became lovers. For an Elf and a Faerie to be lovers was forbidden by Elf law. The Elves viciously attacked and tortured them both. Mortally wounded, the Faerie King commit suicide to end his suffering rather than linger on in agony for weeks. Devastated, the Elf used the magic he¡¯d learned from the Demons to resurrect the Faerie King as a Lich.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. And now the Elf, a Necromancer with a Lich at his command, unleashed the Lich on the Elves to punish them for killing his lover. With every Elf dead, the Lich escaped from its bottle, not returning to its Necromancer. Now, Quaraun, the last Moon Elf, The Pink Necromancer, driven to the brink of insanity, murderer of the other Elves, roams the planet, a Lich Hunter, not hunting Liches to kill them and save the world, but rather searching for his undead lover that they may be reunited, caring nothing for the world or anyone in it, desiring only to be with his lover once again. Serial killer, time traveller, builder of the Twighlight Manor.... these are the Adventures of Quaraun the Insane. NOW... ~o0o~ Lich Hunter Quaraun had recently acquired the map of the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, leader of the Lich Lords. Rumours say that the map will only go to one place: the home of the infamous Elf Eater. The Elf Eater made the map to ensure that he would never become lost. If not in the hands of the Elf Eater himself, the only thing the map will do is lead whoever carries it to the Elf Eater. Quaraun has been using the map, in hopes it¡¯d take him to the Lich that killed his people. Quaraun¡¯s plan was to have the map lead him to the Lich and kill the monstrous undead beast, in hopes that by killing the leader, all the other Liches would die, same way it did when killing the lead vampire. Quaraun has killed the Lich Lord twice now, but each time his soul escaped and went into hiding while his body regenerated. It takes 100 years for the Lich to regenerate, and Quaraun had never seen a Lich between its regenerations before, so the pink robed Elf had no idea what to expect from an unregenerated Lich. No one had ever seen a Lich between regenerations, but many suspect that the Lich reverts back to whatever form it had in life. This troubles Quaraun deeply, for in life, the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley had been his lover BoomFuzzy. They say that when an evil person dies, his soul is doomed to return as a vampire, but should that evil man commit suicide, he comes back instead as a Lich. For 200 years Quaraun was torn apart by the fact that BoomFuzzy had killed himself, and that BoomFuzzy had returned from the dead as a Lich. Quaraun could not bring himself to admit that BoomFuzzy was evil. The situation was made harder for him, in that he, like everybody else, had believed BoomFuzzy to be an Elf and yet, the Lich Lord was a Phooka. BoomFuzzy had fooled them all. Of course. Quaraun couldn¡¯t bring himself to admit that he was evil, either. Now Quaraun had the map that should take him to the unregenerated Lich, believing if he killed it between regenerations it would stay dead. However, after 300 years separated from it''s rightful owner the map with a mind of it''s own has become bored and childish and has spent the last several months leading Quaraun on a wild goose chase from one monster''s lair to the next. Now, frustrated with the map, and seriously wounded from the monster it had last led him to, all Quaraun wanted to do was head back to his Elven homelands in top of the world at the Arctic Deep North. But a few miles South of the Deep North, the map suddenly sprang to life and begins demanding Quaraun side track off the main road to take it to The Screaming Unicorn Tavern at The Forest of No Return. When Quaraun refused to obey the map''s wishes, a monstrous storm shows up out of nowhere and forced him to take shelter in a tavern, that is far bigger on the inside, and has no windows to match the outside. Too late Quaraun realizes he''s walked into the trap of a psychotic, shape-shifting Elf Eating Trickster Faerie who knows every detail of Quaraun''s life. Quaraun suspects the map has finally taken him to its rightful owner The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, but the creature before him is no Lich. And Quaraun finds he can not bring himself to kill the beast while not in its regenerated Lich form. Worse, are the long forgotten memories of a past lover, BoomFuzzy, who commit suicide 300 years ago and has far too many similarities to the creature that calls itself The Screaming Unicorn. ~o0o~ Chapter 1 Part 1 of 3: Introducing The Pink Necromancer ~o0o~ And so it was a dark and stormy night when our tale begins, but isn''t that the way it always goes? Actually it wasn''t yet dark and the storm had not yet begun. It was early evening and the dark clouds were only just forming overhead. "I hate storms," Quaraun muttered as he looked up at the clouds forming overhead. "I think it''s in my best interests to head to sidetrack off course a bit, head towards the village coming up on map. Or I''d think that if any other map was telling me to go there." Quaraun pulled out his map and examined it again. The clouds were big and dark and terrible. They exactly matched the clouds that were scribbling themselves across the page of the map. ¡°Big, black and terrible, which means it might be a really big, really bad storm that I really did not want to be outside in. And you knew that. For all I know you made this storm. I hate you.¡± According to the map there existed a village not too far ahead. It also said there was a storm coming, and it had previously told him the village was in the opposite direction. ¡°Villages don''t move. Which means there''s isn''t a village.¡± The map pointed arrows to the words. "Screaming Unicorn," the pink robed Elf said reading the words. "It looks like a village, maybe. But I can''t trust you." Quaraun rotated the map to look at the drawings from a different angle, but all the images leaped up and rearranged themselves as he did. ¡°It is absolutely hopeless trying to read this map. And I have no idea where I am.¡± He was uncertain if the symbols even stood for a village at all. "Damn, I wish I had a better map. You''ve not been very reliable thus far. Must have been drawn by someone seriously lacking in map making skills. It''s not helping matters that you stupid thing keep changing on me. And you''re the only map I have of this area, I would think it''s better than no map at all. Except you keep trying to get me killed and I don''t think that''s very funny." Thunder rumbled in the distance. The dark clouds overhead showed a storm rolling in fast. "I hate nature. And I hate outdoors, so damn much," Quaraun sputtered as he cringed at the thought of getting caught in a downpour. ¡°I''m not a Wood Elf. I''m not made for this. I belong in castle. War. And dry. And not traipsing all over the countryside on the whims of a lunatic map. You are an evil map, created by an evil Lich. I can''t wait to be rid of you.¡± Quaraun was not an outdoor loving wild feral Elf. He was a Moon Elf who had grown up in a very aristocratic and proud civilized indoor dwelling clan. He was the son of the younger brother, of the Moon Elf king, or he had been, back when the Moon Elves were still alive. His servants had had servants. Quaraun was a fastidious, stuck up snob. He did not like to get his hands dirty, nor did the High Elf relish sleeping outside, not even on a good day. He didn''t like being outside at all. Sleeping outside on a dark and stormy night in strange and unknown territory, left many uneasy anxieties on his mind. Quaraun rubbed his aching side. The thought of a night outdoors was worse today than normal. The wizard had been badly injured in battle only a few days earlier. The wound had begun to heal, but the Pink Necromancer was still weak and every step he took sent terrible pain through his entire side, down through to his leg and up his back into his neck. The risk of sleeping outside, while injured like this, was too great, it left him vulnerable to attack. Quaraun badly needed a place to rest. Some place safe and quiet, where he could stay until he was fully healed. He couldn''t risk fighting another battle while so desperately weakened. "Perhaps, I''ll get lucky and the town will be big enough to sport an inn or a tavern or a boarding house," the short Elf mused dryly as he trudged slowly onward, trying not to limp. Villages were few and many miles between in these parts. The farther North the pink veiled Elf went the less populated the roads were. Once Quaraun reached the Deep North it would be weeks between houses, let alone towns. Here in the Far North, just South of Deep North, the prospects of finding a house wasn''t much better, though changes of finding a house were better then chances of finding a town, and chances of finding a town with a tavern was going to be close to impossible around here. No one travelled these roads, there was no need to public resting places. "Just public lodging of some sort. I hate knocking at strangers'' doors like some pitiful beggar. Have to ask to spend the night." It annoyed Quaraun very much. The silver haired Elf remembered how he felt to find a strange stranger at the door. Quaraun was stranger than most strangers and he knew it. It would have been easier on Quaraun had he let go of ancestral pride and stopped being so arrogant about being of aristocratic blood or at least if the pink robed Elf dressed more like a common commoner. He knew that too, but he didn''t allow it convince him to dress more inconspicuously. It was bad enough that Quaraun dressed like a wealthy aristocratic lady, rather then a lord, that alone barred him entrance from most places, but the Pink Necromancer wore the gaudiest frills, embroideries, bead-work, and decoration imaginable and all in the brightest, most eye popping shades of pink. Few who meet the grief stricken pink robed Elf were even aware he was a male Elf, most folks thought him a woman of some sort. The pink robed Elf neither looked nor dressed like a male. He wasn''t necessarily trying to pass himself off as a woman, and openly admitted his male birth to anyone who questioned it, but few did and most didn''t care, as the aristocratic Elvish clans were seen as arrogant snobs and thus few people found any reason to associate with them. Had Quaraun been able to let go of his arrogance and pride, he could have passed for one of the common races of Elves and gotten along with others better. Most people found the common Elves cheerful, friendly, and very easy to get along with. Common Elves were not avoided the way the High Elves were. In fact, Quaraun''s life could have been much easier if he would just stop wearing pink. The Guild had plastered thousands of wanted posters in hundreds of towns, cities, and villages, telling people to be on the look out for an Elf dressed in pink. The Pink Necromancer was a wanted criminal. A murderer. A serial killer. Most days Quaraun wore shimmering silk bubblegum pink robes with many sparkling gold designs embroidered in the cloth, over which he wore an equally pink velvet cloak with large magenta pink beaded gemstone hearts sewn all over it. The outfit was often topped off with a wide brimmed pink hat decked out in large white ostrich plumes, though other times he wore a long embroidered veil. Under his robes he wore thigh high boots, also pink. The Elf loved pink, there prevailed no question of that. He also looked like some prostitute out a king''s harem, or so it seemed to those whom laid eyes on him. Because the Pink Necromancer was so very short, and so very feminine, dressed like this, it was rare any one identified him as male. In his youth Quaraun had gained a reputation as a formidable wizard and people from all points of the world had sought him out, begging for his help. Helping people had thus become a habit of his, something the small Elf had started doing without thinking about. But he was just Quaraun the Moon Elf Wizard in those days. Now he was The Pink Necromancer: Quaraun the Insane, and people were scared shitless of him. Rumours followed Quaraun every where he went. Every one had something to say about Quaraun, though no one ever had anything to say to him. People spread slanderous rumours and gossiping lies about him, to the extent, the morbidly depressed Moon Elf could go no where without finding rumours had arrived there first. This depressed Quaraun to no end, for it made it impossible for him to make friends and the Rapunzel haired Elf was often greeted with angry mobs and people throw stones and chasing him out of their village before the anomalous Elf even entered it. For 300 years, Quaraun had wandered from village to village, sad and alone. Unloved. Unwanted. Hated by everyone. Usually hated for things he did not do. Hated because people were more willing to believe baseless rumours than they were to try to get to know him. If someone died, no matter who or where, it ALWAYS, Quaraun''s fault, even in villages the acutely suicidal Elf had never been to. If someone fell sick, it ALWAYS, Quaraun''s fault, always. If crops failed to grow, it was Quaraun who did, had to be. Everyone blamed Quaraun for everything. And yet, Quaraun was peaceful, quiet, harmless. He kept to himself and bothered no one. He wandered aimlessly across the world, living in a tent that he set up along side the road and being extra careful to avoid contact with anyone and everyone, for fear of being blamed for yet another thing he had not done. The most prevalent rumour, was that the world''s most powerful wizard had gone mad and was now roaming the world slaughtering everyone in his path. There was some truth to this story. He had visited several villages and killed every last person, but the killings had not been as random as people thought. Quaraun was seeking out anyone who was in anyway involved in his family''s death and killing them. Often most people had no idea they had had a hand in BoomFuzzy''s death. Few had ever heard of BoomFuzzy; those that did, only knew the name from having seen it on a box of chocolates. While it was true Quaraun had killed everyone involved in BoomFuzzy''s death, the truth of that was that the bereft Moon Elf had done so all at once, 300 years ago on the 100th anniversary of BoomFuzzy''s death. Quaraun was NOT wandering the world in search of more people to kill. Quaraun wandered the world in search of BoomFuzzy''s ghost. BoomFuzzy''s ghost had escaped, 300 years ago. Quaraun had started the Lich making spell, but the bumbling Necromancer had not finished it. BoomFuzzy''s ghost had escaped and fled, and the Lich remains of BoomFuzzy was out there, somewhere, drifting between dimensions, not quite in the spirit world, not quite in the physical world. Quaraun was looking for gingerbread. BoomFuzzy lived in a house made of gingerbread. Bigger on the inside. Capable of changing form, and looking on the outside like nothing but a small box, and on the inside being a vast world all it''s own. A magic gingerbread house that could anything. A mimic of sorts, it came to life and required feeding. Usually the gingerbread house sat peaceful and still, an actual house made out of gingerbread. But hungry, the house grew huge, becoming a monstrous grey granite manor, that devoured any traveller foolish enough to enter it. BoomFuzzy himself was a Phooka, a Welsh Bogart. A shapeshifter who could take any form. Be anyone or anything. A Dark Trickster Faerie, who could see into the minds of others, search for their deepest innermost fears, and become the thing they feared the most, or the thing they most desired. Like all Phookas, he ate people and sifting forms was simply to lure them into a trap, so he could kill and eat them. In his true form, BoomFuzzy was a tiny black unicorn with a gleaming silver horn. He was barely the size of a Golden Retriever. A shaggy, long furred miniature horse. And thus what Quaraun was seeking, was a tiny black unicorn, whom lived in a mimic that took the form of a gingerbread house. But both the Phooka and his Mimic could look like anything or anyone, making them nearly impossible to location. And thus Quaraun had wandered the world for 300 years, searching for BoomFuzzy and his gingerbread house. There existed several guilds, or there had existed several guilds, regulating the use of magic. One guild in particular, known by all the rest as simply ¡°The Guild¡± was made up of the most powerful wizards from around the planet and had taken control over the governing parties of nearly every country. The Guild had goals of global domination and they nearly succeeded. They would have succeeded if not for two laws, which they had passed, which had been at the core, the cause of BoomFuzzy''s death. The first law banned Dark Arts, with Demonology and Necromancy being made crimes that were punishable by death. BoomFuzzy was the public form alter ego of the Guild''s most wanted criminal: King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, the Necromancer who had built the Lich Lords. The Necromancer whom had been Quaraun''s lover, 400 years ago. The second law decreed who one could love. Same sex relationships were forbidden and also punishable by death. These laws were the source of the rumours which made it difficult for Quaraun to settle down and live a normal life. It had been members of The Guild whom had gone from village to village spreading slander about Quaraun. Had The Guild left Quaraun alone, the Elf would have had no reason to kill. No thought of killing would ever have entered him mind. But Quaraun had no peace. Every where the crestfallen Moon Elf went, rumours had arrived first. Quaraun''s life was one of bullying and abuse, harassment and torture, at the hands of people who did not know him, because of slander spread by people who hated him, for reasons of their own. And thus Quaraun began to kill. At first in self defence from villagers who attacked him, hunted him, and made hell of his life for no reason at all. But it was not long before he just started killing any one who annoyed him. And didn¡¯t take much to annoy him. He liked his privacy and nosy, gossiping busy bodies were quick to spread slander about him, and soon he was killing anyone who had anything to say about him. After having killed every one directly involved in BoomFuzzy''s death, Quaraun concluded that had those two laws not been in place, the people behind BoomFuzzy''s death never would have gone after him to begin with, and so, Quaraun set out to find every last Guild member and kill them, their families, their friends, and every villager in each Guild member''s village.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. In 300 years, Quaraun had become mean. Still quiet. Still shy. Still keeping to himself. Still living in a tent set up wherever he could find a place to put it. But now angry. Bitter. Fed up with being lied about. Sick and tired of the slander and gossip. Full of fear and dread and lashing out violently at anyone, after 300 years of being conditioned to the fact that no one approached him unless they were seeking to hurt him. The end result was, Quaraun killed a lot of people and now, every last member of the Guild was dead. Every last person Quaraun could think of who had a hand in BoomFuzzy''s death was dead. In his youth, Quaraun would never have hurt a fly. He was shy and timid and quiet and spent most of his time sewing elaborate outfits embedded with magic powers. The thought of hurting any one or any thing abhorred him. But that was two centuries ago. Now killing had become second nature to him. He killed without thought. Killing had become easy. But the depressed Necromancer had not killed at random, as the rumours told. He had killed with a very clear intent and purpose, and now Quaraun had run out of people to kill. With no one left to kill, Quaraun had no more reason to wander around the world looking for people to kill, and had now set out to return home, back to the Deep North, back to where BoomFuzzy had died, to kill himself. In spite of having become a serial killer and murdering thousands, Quaraun still abhorred hurting anyone and deeply hated what he had become. The guilt and remorse for what he had done weighed heavy on his heart and the eminently grief stricken Elf took no pleasure in the deaths of those he killed. He had thought it would help take away the pain of BoomFuzzy''s death, but it had only made the pain worse. Now on top of the pain of BoomFuzzy''s death, was the guilt at having murdered so many. He could not live with what he had done, and all the frightened little Elf really wanted to do was be reunited with BoomFuzzy. But BoomFuzzy had turned himself into a Lich and Quaraun simply could not find him. Once Quaraun had been captured by the Lich, but had been so horrified by the creature, and how unlike BoomFuzzy it was, that he''d killed it. The problem was, you can''t kill a Lich. They just regenerate and come back. Quaraun had set out to find the Lich, expecting to find BoomFuzzy, but what the grief stricken Elf found was a glowing blue, incorporeal, ghostly corpse like skeleton that appeared to be make of a clear blue crystal glass. The flesh had rotted off the bones and the bones themselves had crystallized into a strange phosphorous blue quartz. The shock of seeing his beloved BoomFuzzy, returned to unlife in such a state, was more then Quaraun''s frail mind had been able to take. Many people tried to determine what could have happened to result in the dramatic change from the kind, helpful, elegantly dressed Mage to become the outlandishly pink Necromantic holy terror. According to most rumours, his wife had been murdered many years ago and he''d worn her wardrobe since her death, because he refused to forget her and this was the only way his slipping sanity allowed him to not forget. Truth of the matter was the heartbroken little Necromancer had dressed like this long before he married her, and if you were to dig even deeper into the truth, the immensely sad Elf never actually married her at all. The entire marriage had been a false public image his father, younger brother to the king, had put together, to hide Quaraun''s true nature from the public eye. Not that it did much good, as it was rather hard to hide dresses that were pink enough to be seen a mile away and covered in enough glittering trim to blind an entire village on a sunny day. Rumours. Rumours. Always rumours. There was always someone willing to flap their lying tongue. And when Quaraun found them, the jaded Elf cut their tongue out. Quaraun was fed up with the slanderous lie filled rumours people spread about him and his life. He wanted to be left alone, but rumours followed him everywhere. And every time the lonely Necromancer heard a rumour being spread, he killed the person spreading the rumour. An end to the rumours. This is what the melancholy Elf wanted. What the rumours didn''t say was that, Quaraun had only married the she-Elf to save the life of his male lover BoomFuzzy, whom the Moon Elf king was going to execute if Quaraun did not marry the she-Elf. Unfortunately, the whole thing had happened so fast, that BoomFuzzy had been unaware of Quaraun''s reasoning for marrying the she-Elf and on the night of Quaraun''s fake marriage, his lover BoomFuzzy commit suicide. Since BoomFuzzy''s death, Quaraun had not done much of anything, other then devote his life to necromancy and resurrecting the dead. No one really knew why the mysterious Moon Elf did that, they simply assumed he had gone insane. There were lots of rumours. Always the rumours. Lots of talk. Lots of gossip. Endless slander. Never any truth. People always had something to tell everyone else about the infamous Pink Necromancer, but no one actually knew him, so nothing they said was ever true. And in 300 years of people spreading their lies and never checking their sources or facts, the world began to think of Quaraun as the most powerful, most feared wizard of them all. This made The Guild furious, for they believed they were the most powerful and most feared wizards of all the universe, and for someone to challenge that, was unthinkable. And so, more rumours rose up. Rumours started by The Guild. And yet, the truth was that Quaraun was simply a merchant of magic cloth, which he wove and embroidered and sewed into magic cloaks, magic robes, and magic bags. Only this and nothing more. Quaraun wove pink Thullid silk, embroidered it with dainty pink flowers, crafted dresses and bags and capes and cloaks and veils and hats and robes and sold them to mages and witches and wizards and sorcerers, as he travelled from village to village, town to town, port to port. Along the way, Quaraun had met and fallen in love with a candy maker named BoomFuzzy. But BoomFuzzy was old, and one day became injured, his wound mortally infected, and to end is suffering, BoomFuzzy had drunk poison and killed himself. Devastated Quaraun cast a spell to preserve BoomFuzzy''s body in a blue crystal coffin, until he could find a spell to restore life back to his lover. But his relationship with BoomFuzzy had been hidden from the public eye. Only the royal family had known of it, and so no one out side of the palace, made any connection between the candy maker''s untimely death and Quaraun''s sudden obsession with necromancy. And this secrecy had allowed rumours to rise and spread. And now 400 years after BoomFuzzy''s death, everyone KNEW everything about Quaraun and yet no one actually knew anything about him at all. Quaraun was still simply a merchant of magic cloth, which he wove and embroidered and sewed into magic cloaks, magic robes, and magic bags. Only this and nothing more. Quaraun still wove pink Thullid silk, still embroidered it with dainty pink flowers, still crafted dresses and bags and capes and cloaks and veils and hats and robes and still sold them to mages and witches and wizards and sorcerers, as he travelled from village to village, town to town, port to port. But his ability to make a profit on his craft or even make any sales at all, was hampered by the rumours and lies and slander. And with his business in ruins, Quaraun retreated into solitude, a hermit, now rarely see. Most people Quaraun encountered could have overlooked the outlandish outfits had they been on a more normal looking Elf. Most people were used to seeing the common Elves, especially the Wood Elves. Wood Elves had golden tan skin, dark eyes, and black hair. Other races were darker and others were lighter, but Wood Elves were the most common race of Elves and so everyone judge the colour of an Elf by how close in colour they were to the Wood Elves. Outside of the Elves themselves, no one really cared about the skin colour of Elves. An Elf was an Elf and that was all anyone every really thought they needed to know. Most non-Elves separated the Elves into two groups: The Common Elves and the High Elves. To non-Elven races, the Common Elves were seen as nature loving, tree hugging, happy wild men. Hippies. They were not all like that, but that is how they were thought of by none-Elves. Few of the Common Elves set up permanent villages, most travelling in caravans, following the changes of the seasons to wherever the land was greenest and harvests most plentiful. They were harvesters and gathers and saw little need for pomp and finery, caring nothing for racial segregation of the High Elves. While Common Elves were shy and kept to themselves, non-Elven races saw them as pleasant company when they encountered them. To non-Elven races, the High Elves were seen as haughty, arrogant, vain, pompous, racist, self-important, and very bitter, often outright bitchy. The High Elves lived in small close knit communities, with huge shimmering palaces and grand fairy tale castles, which had no need to be as big as they were. The High Elves claimed they had royal blood, some claiming to be children of deity. They made demands of everyone, treated everyone like slaves, and spent most of their days primping in front of mirrors and fussing about what they looked like. They were prone to mood swings and temper tantrums, and throwing major hissy fits if they didn''t get their way. In truth, the High Elves were not Elves at all. Many thousands of years ago, a star ship had crash landed in the Atlantic Ocean, and a few survivors swam to shore and being trapped on a strange planet with no way to get off of it, they made due with what was available and built themselves a small village. Because their features were similar to Elves, the Humans had called them Elves. But when one saw the two together, it was clear that they were not Elves, but something different. And so Humans began to call the Elves, True Elves or Common Elves, while the aliens were refereed to as High Elves, or Elves Whom Had Fallen From The Sky. In their native tongue they were three races: Ecrodones: Blue eyed, albinos Traylkites: Golden skinned red haired Paretheans: Brown skinned, black eyed, think straight black hair. If other races had existed on their home planet, it was unknown and forgotten centuries ago. These three alone survived on Earth. All three groups migrated to the Deep North: Canada, Greenland, Lapland, Scandinavia, keeping to the deepest, snowiest regions, and avoiding everything native to the Earth as much as possible. At first the three groups banded together, but after a few hundred years, each group had multiplied big enough that fighting started among them and they separated into three separate tribes, divided by skin colour. But than, another few hundred years, saw divisions within the groups. Not much was known about the Paretheans. The migrated inland and avoided the rest of the High Elves. Some rumours suggest that they evolved and became the race now known as The Phookas. No one knows for sure. In any case, Phookas are considered Faeries, not Elves, but the Faeries say Phookas were not Faeries, so they called the Phookas Dark Fae. The Traylkites divided into several groups. Most of them now considered ¡°lost¡± or ¡°forgotten¡±. The last known group were the ones the Humans called The Sun Elves. A strange cult like group, who lived by extreme rituals, with everyone dressing alike, styling their hair the same, wearing the same makeup. Males. Females. Adults. Children. They all looked exactly the same. Completely identical. If one was born looking different, they were surgically changed to look like the rest, or killed outright. They developed a hive mind, and exists as one. All had habit dyed the same bright neon yellow, styled in the same shoulder length perm, all wore the same gold mask over their faces. All wore the same long green hooded velvet cloaks, under which they wore gauzy neon orange and yellow robes.. By everyone looking exactly the same, they had eradicated racism. Sort of. The claimed they had eradicated racism, but in fact, they were the most raciest of all the High Elves, slaughtering any who did not conform to their society of zero deviation, slaughtering any child born looking even slightly different. The Sun Elves, would soon become very to Quaraun''s life, for a quickly a time would come, when the Sun Elves found an imposter among them: a half-Elf, and it would be Quaraun who would save the half-Elf¡¯s life and take him under his wing. But that is another story, for another day. The most arrogant of all, were the Ecrodones. The King had been on the star ship and he had survived the crash, so so his descendants, claimed leadership over the rest. The Ecrodones broke off into several tiny groups. The Humans dubbed them: The Snow Elves The Frost Elves The Crystal Elves The Christmas Elves aka Santa¡¯s Elves The Cookie Elves of Lake Gitchagumi and... The Moon Elves. All where white. Very, very, very white. Not peach, like a ¡°white¡± human, but pure, chalk white, like the snow in which they lived. White skin. White hair. Pink, blue, and white eyes. Like the Sun Elves, they lived in cult like societies of everyone looking and dressing and styling their hair exactly alike. Disagreements over what these outfits and hairstyles should be, is what lead to there being so many small groups of tiny white Elves in the Deep North. Regardless of their type, all of the High Elves had one thing in common: High Elves were not pleasant company due to their racism, arrogance, obsession with beauty, and vanity, and so most non-Elves avoided them. The Elven races had separated themselves millennia ago, by virtue of skin colour. Darker coloured races were by far more common. The paler the Elf the rarer they were, and the more self important they saw themselves. The whitest Elves, let their whiteness go to their heads and crowned themselves as rulers over not only the other Elves but every race on the planet. Nothing was whiter, more arrogant, more self-centred, or more bigoted then a Moon Elf. The Moon Elves were legendary for their vanity and conceit. Snow wasn''t even as white as these stark white albinos. They had long ago migrated to the Deep North for it''s short hour days and it''s long endless winters, thus they could go outdoors without fear of sunlight tainting their pure white skin. Generations of incestuous inter breeding had created increasingly whiter offspring, at a great cost to their health. Moon Elves were frail and weak, prone to heart disorders and fainting spells. Moon Elves, in their obsession with white purity, neglected to pay any heed to the increasing illnesses their inbreeding was causing. They considered their frail health a small price to pay for the gloriously enthrall beauty. The vanity of the Moon Elves knew no match. No race on the planet was as vain or as self focused on physical appearances as the Moon Elves were. Quaraun was a Moon Elf and every inch of him was whiter than the whitest driven snow: white skin, white hair, even his eyes were the palest white-blue eyes you''d ever seen, so light you could hardly tell they were not white as well. His hair was the purest white and spilled like a silken waterfall over his shoulders, to his waist, and down to his knees. In the sunlight his glorious locks glinted with silver and blue gleaming like opals. Quaraun was a High Elf, often a very high, High Elf as Faerie drugs had become a part of his habits. He was also a Moon Elf. The Moon Elves were supposed to be all dead. The entire clan murdered by the Lich Lords, but Quaraun alone had survived. And there was lots of rumours about that. Quaraun knew what had happened to his people, how they had died and who had killed them, but no matter how much you questioned him, the odd little Elf never said a word about it. The only answer any one could get out of him about it was simply this: "A Lich killed my family." A statement which was often followed by other statements such as: "My soul is broken." ...and¡­ ¡°I''m a monster.¡± ...and¡­ "I have nothing to live for." ...and... "I must become a Lich to be reunited with my love." ...and sometimes... "My father and the she-bitch should have died sooner." ...and one in a great while... "I miss BoomFuzzy." It was these statements which had in fact lead to the rumour that the Lich Lords had murdered his wife, slaughtered the royal family and then razed the Moon Elf village. The grief stricken pink robed Elf would not confirm nor deny these rumours. Instead the poignant Elf wizard would wander to the nearest tavern, order drugged Faerie wine and talk about Liches, Lich Lords, and most especially, The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, leader of the Lich Lords, who he said killed his family, but he never talked about BoomFuzzy or who he meant when he said the phrase ¡°my family¡±. Thus people assumed the rabidly depressed Elf meant the wife and four children whom had also been killed the day all the other Moon Elves had died. When Quaraun said the words ¡°my family¡± what he actually meant, was his male lover BoomFuzzy. That the Moon Elves had died two hundred years before anyone in any Human village had been born, left Quaraun with few people still living who thought of the event as anything other than ancient history. Elves were getting scarcer as Humans quickly over populated the planet and most of the beings Humans referred to as ¡°The Magical Races¡± were dying out. Elves, Dwarves, Faeries, Gnomes, they were all fast facing extinction as the wave of Humanity swept over the planet, with Humans killing every non-Human creature they laid eyes on. The Magical Races whom had once separated themselves by species, were now banding together in small communities, in areas where the Humans were still uncommon. The Faeries had been hit the hardest by the Human plague, and most Fae creatures were now believed to be extinct. Once in a while a lone Phooka or Leprechaun surfaced, only to scurry away fearing they too would be killed. Gnomes and Dwarves now lived together, races that formally hated each other, joined forces against the Human onslaught. Many of the common Elven races were now banding together, the Wood Elves and Mountain Elves often seen in troupes along side the River Elves and Desert Elves. Only the extremely arrogant, highly self-righteous, very pompous and self-important aristocratic High Elves of the Deep North, remained separate and isolated. They thought of themselves as god-like and invincible. There were the silver haired white skinned Moon Elves, the equally pale Frost Elves, the whiter then snow Snow Elves, and the ever elusive blue skinned Crystal Elves. The whiter they were the more arrogant they were, with the Moon Elves being by far the worst, seeing every race, even other High Elves as nothing but foot stoles beneath their feet. Chapter 1 Part 2 of 3: Introducing The Pink Necromancer The Moon Elves had believed themselves so powerful, so invincible, for so many millennia, that no one ever questioned their authority and every being on the planet was shaken to its core when news spread that every last Moon Elf was suddenly dead. Dead in a matter of minutes. Dead from the icy cold blast of an Ice Lich''s frozen breath with froze every Moon Elf solid before they even knew they was a Lich among them. When a traveller arrived and found the village frozen into a solid block of ice, with dismembered bodies of Elves strewn everywhere, there was no question that this had been a Lich attack. The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley had left dozens of Elf villages in this exact same frozen, shattered waste. It was his signature trademark. It was what he did. It was no surprise to think that the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley had murdered every last Moon Elf, not after having murdered so many other villages of Elves in this exact same way, and so no investigation was done. No one even took a closer look at the bodies, to see that the poor Elves had not died quickly, and had suffered in agony for hours, perhaps days. Their faces twisted in horror and pain, the frozen foam at their lips, a tell tale sign that they had been poisoned first and frozen later. It was also neglected, the sheer brutality, with which some Elves had been mangled, their bodies cut to ribbons, by hundreds of knife wounds and their heads cut off and never found. That the king and his brother and one of the king''s daughters had been mutilated beyond recognition or that four children, stabbed to death in their sleep, had been the only ones carefully wrapped and placed lovingly on an alter. The thing which everyone over looked most of all, however, was the fact that standing in the middle of the massacre, had been one lone survivor. Quaraun. The other thing overlooked, was the fact that Quaraun had been found standing over the headless bodies of the King and his own father the king''s younger brother, covered in blood and holding a fearsome looking black obsidian dagger, encrusted with tear dropped shaped rubies, and rumoured to have been demon possessed. With the Elf Eater on the war path and seen in the area, no one ever once considered that maybe, Quaraun had simply had enough of being bullied, and poisoned the village''s food supply, then while every Elf in the village lay dying, went from house to house stabbing every one of them in the heart, before turning on his father and his uncle, the king, and stabbing both of them each hundreds of times before cutting their heads off. That Quaraun actually was insane, and not just called insane, had never occurred to anyone. He himself maintained that he was not insane, that people only called him that for the way the sad eyed Elf dressed, but Quaraun also denied having a Thullid living in his head, eating his brain and controlling most of his actions these days. No one knew, what had happened before the massacre of the Moon Elves. No one knew that Quaraun had, had a male lover named BoomFuzzy, or that both he and BoomFuzzy had hid their relationship for 30 long years, before being discovered and then tortured by the king''s younger brother, or that Quaraun had been made to watch while BoomFuzzy suffered in horrible agony for three days as a slow acting poison melted his organs. Quaraun had been a peaceful, shy, timid, quiet Elf who kept to himself and preferred to live as a princess instead of a prince. He also preferred to have male lovers. Either thing was seen as a crime by his people and while, they let him get away with wearing dresses, simply because he was the only male heir the royal family had, they put their foot down on his desire to be BoomFuzzy''s lover. The thirty years of keeping their relationship secret, had messed with Quaraun''s head and caused him to live in dread of having any sort of sexual relationship at all. Years of being beaten, tortured, and humiliated by the other Moon Elves left him scared of his own shadow and jumping at every sound. But no matter what they did to him, the secretive little Moon Elf had always had BoomFuzzy to turn to. What few knew was that Quaraun was no longer Quaraun the Moon Elf, but rather something else. When Quaraun was an infant, he and his mother had been attacked by Thullids. Horrible, amphibious tentacle covered aliens take had come to Earth from a galaxy far away, and whose method of reproducing was to spawn eggs in swamps and marshes, wait for the eggs to hatch, and then implant the tadpole-like larvae in the brains of Elves. The poor Elf victim would slowly go mad, as the creature in it''s head eat holes in it''s brain, while sending long thing white roots throughout the Elf''s body, replacing it''s nervous system. Eventually, the creature would have completely replaced the Elf''s brain, spinal column, and nerves with it''s own, killing the original Elf, and replacing it with a Thullid instead. Because the Thullids had no way of themselves actually reproducing, they took to crossing their eggs with various sea life, usually octopus or squid. Their most successful crossing had been with Giant Squid, but this had an unfortunate side effect. Eventually the squid would outgrow it''s host body and hatch out of it, resulting in the strange semi-humanoid, bipedal squid headed monstrosities, which most people thought of when they heard the word Thullid. For centuries the Thullid experimented with various sea life and shore creatures: starfish, sea cucumbers, sand worms, barnacles, moonsnails, eels, crabs, lobsters, clams, trout, goldfish, frogs, toads, salamanders, stingrays, all with varying degrees of success, and never with the success they had hoped for. The goal they had hopped for was to create a Thullid that could remain, forever, inside the host body, never hatching out, never changing the outer physical appearance, making them able to fully take over a host and it never be known that the host was in fact a Thullid and not an Elf. And one day, the Thullids captured a pack of jellyfish. After decades of experiments with crossing Thullid eggs with jellyfish, and implanting them into various other creatures, the Thullids at long last concluded they could successfully take over an Elf, and with plans to take over the planet, what better Elves to pick, then the Moon Elves who already thought they owned the planet. Two Elves were captured, the plan fast fell apart, when the Thullid invader was captured and the young she-Elf and her infant were put under constant guard to watch for changes. After three years, the young mother had mentally changed and it was clear, that she was dead and her body controlled by a Thullid parasite. The Moon Elves promptly beat her head in, smashing open her skull, to discover, that yes indeed, there was a Thullid living in side. The Elves crazed by fear, squashed the beast with far more violence then necessary. Quaraun had watched the event unfold. Only three years old when his mother was brutally murdered by his father, Quaraun lived in mortal terror that he would be next, mostly because his father constantly told the young Elfling, if Quaraun ever dared become a Thullid like his mother had done, he would personally kill the boy. The Elf, Quaraun, had died and been replaced by a Thullid around the same time as his mother had, but fearing his own murder, Quaraun had been very careful to do everything possible to be a Moon Elf and not a Thullid, and so by the time the skittish little Moon Elf had reached adulthood, he had successfully convinced himself that he was in fact a Moon Elf and that the fear of being a Thullid was nothing but a bad dream caused by his father''s threats. Unfortunately, Quaraun had developed a bad habit of killing anyone who suggested that the timid little Moon Elf might in any way be a Thullid and not an Elf, which was in fact proof that he was a Thullid, as Elves were not prone to bloodshed. Elves were peaceful and avoided violence for the most part. The Moon Elves had only ever been violent towards Quaraun, because they feared he might be a Thullid. Thullids were insane. Having been made insane by an event long ago forgotten, and now trapped on a primitive planet, forced to spawn their eggs swamps and cross their larvae with earth sea creatures in order to survive, they had at some point corrupted the mental development of their brains. There simply was no such thing as a sane Thullid. Poor Quaraun had been an Elf not born healthy to begin with, not infested by a parasite that had eaten his brain and replaced it with a twisted corrupted brain, and then bound his soul to a Lich that was even less sane then he was, only to have the Lich die and leave his soul as shattered as his brain, all the while with Moon Elves threaten to kill him if the unusual Elf ever displayed Thullid tendencies and then threatening to kill his male lover if they ever got caught together. The whole thing had been too much stress for him to handle, and so when the Moon Elves drove BoomFuzzy to suicide, Quaraun simply went Thullid on their asses and murdered every last one of them in a very Thullid-like fashion of absolute psychotic insanity.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. And once every Moon Elf was dead, the very depressed Elf captured a Lich, let it lose on the village, made it look like a Lich had killed everyone and then set out to drink himself into a stupor to try to forget everything in his life that wasn''t BoomFuzzy. BoomFuzzy had tempered Quaraun''s growing insanity, keeping him tame, but now without BoomFuzzy, Quaraun''s mind spiralled into a whirlwind of madness, that left the Elf, spending most of his days, skulking in dark corners of taverns, drinking the powerfully psychotic, hallucinatory Faerie wine, and avoiding contact with anyone. Three hundred years alone, bullied at every turn, fleeing a group of competitive mages who thought he was after their titles, had made it even more difficult for Quaraun to stay sane. At some point, a hallucination convinced him that Liches had in fact killed the Moon Elves and thus he set out to kill them back. Quaraun lived, plagued by the memory of his lover''s agonizing death. He couldn''t get BoomFuzzy''s final hours out of his head. The fact remained, that BoomFuzzy had himself been a Lich, and BoomFuzzy was one of the many incarnations of The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Being a Lich, he didn''t stay dead long. Quaraun, being insane, took up killing the Lich over and over again, and hard now wandered aimlessly across the country following the Lich or being followed by the Lich as was more correct, and had finally succeeded in injuring the Lich to the point that the Lich fled and went into hiding for fear it could not regenerate in it''s wounded state. Lich retreated back to it''s lair and Quaraun, set out to killing anything that got between him and where he thought the Lich might be. BoomFuzzy was in his heart and mind, every day and every night. BoomFuzzy had been a candy maker who lived in the Moon Elf village. He and Quaraun had hidden their relationship for 30 odd years before, Quaraun''s father and the king had found out. Male Elf were not allowed with other male Elves and to have such a scandal in the royal family was unthinkable. They couldn''t imagine banishing Quaraun. He was after all the only son of the king''s younger brother, which made him a potential, though unlike heir to the throne. BoomFuzzy and Quaraun had hidden a lot. BoomFuzzy wasn''t a candy maker. The candy shop was a front for his laboratory. BoomFuzzy was a wizard. An evil, dark wizard. BoomFuzzy also wasn''t an Elf. He was a Faerie, disguised with a Glimmer Spell to appear as an Elf. BoomFuzzy was a Necromancer and Quaraun had been more then just his lover, he had also been his apprentice. And what the world did not know was that Quaraun was hunted down the Lich Lords, not because they killed the Moon elves, but rather because he had been one of the wizards who had helped to create them. The Lich Lords had once been 13 powerful Necromancers. BoomFuzzy had kidnapped and tortured to death, the world twelve most powerful Necromancers, before turning them into Liches, against their will. BoomFuzzy and Quaraun had been building an army of Liches. BoomFuzzy had had great plans of global domination. Quaraun didn''t care about global domination, he just liked being dominated by BoomFuzzy and would have been perfectly content to devote the rest of his life to serving BoomFuzzy. In spite of the rumours saying otherwise, Quaraun was a very weak willed Elf, with no big goals, no big plans, no drive, no ambition. Nothing. He was quite content to serve King Gwallmaiic forever. Quaraun never expected BoomFuzzy to die, much less that he would commit suicide. And now, instead of 12 Liches, there were thirteen. But then, Quaraun had not realized that BoomFuzzy had already been a Lich to begin with. The rumours however, contained no mention of BoomFuzzy at all and instead said that now Quaraun wandered the world alone these 300 years seeking the Lich who had killed his family and kin. Or rather seeking a way to permanently kill any Lich at all, which didn''t seem to be an easy feat, given that dead Liches simply regenerated after you killed them. Quaraun had killed two Liches, or rather one Lich killed twice, before discovering this fact. The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. King Gwallmaiic. BoomFuzzy. The Elf Eater was really the only Lich Quaraun was interested in, in spite of what the rumours said about him. Quaraun didn''t care about the twelve original Lich Lords. Just the Elf Eater himself. Finding him. Killing him. Curing him. UnLichifying him. Or just becoming a Lich himself to join him. Quaraun didn''t really care which one he did at this point, just as long as he got to see BoomFuzzy again. BoomFuzzy. To be reunited with BoomFuzzy. That was all that really mattered. Finding BoomFuzzy and being together with BoomFuzzy again. Quaraun didn''t care about anything else. And people who got in his way, just died. Turned into frozen blue crystal statues. Eaten by undead rose bushes. Fed to PocketLich, Quaraun pet DracoLich that lived in his pocket. Eyes gouged out with King Gwallmaiic''s ruby encrusted black obsidian blade daggers. Castrated and hung in trees. Tongues cut out. Shrunk to the size of a beetle and plopped into a vial, then locked into a box of vials. Killing had become second nature to Quaraun and he had not noticed. In his mind, Quaraun was still the peaceful, harmless little Moon Elf tailor, that he had been before meeting BoomFuzzy. He justified his killings by the fact that he was simply ridding the world of evil. And he was. Quaraun was ridding the world of evil. Quaraun was killing bullies. Quaraun was slaughtering racists and bigots. Quaraun was murdering lying ass gossips who spread rumours and slander. Quaraun never hurt any one who was innocent. Quaraun was simply eliminating from the world, evil people who did evil things. Quaraun never killed anyone who didn''t deserve to die. A hero in his own mind, the rest of the world saw Quaraun as not only the most powerful and most feared wizard of them all, but also as the most evil super villain to ever exist. Quaraun had spent the last 200 years chasing down the Elf Eater Lich Lord. Caught him. Killed him, hoping that by killing the Lich, the man he''d been in life would return, but the Lich had disappeared. BoomFuzzy did not return, and Quaraun was becoming very discouraged. The Elf Eater went into hiding while his wounded body regenerated back into a Lich. As a Lich he boldly attacked, slaughtered and terrorized all the Realms, until Quaraun caught him again, and again killed him. And for a second time the Lich transformed out of his Lich form and retreated until his body could regenerate. Quaraun had spent the last decade following what he had thought, had been a trail leading to the wounded Lich Lord, but that trail turned out to have gone to a different Lich. Quaraun had tried fighting that Lich but was now himself wounded and forced to retreat. It was a very complicated mess his life had become, and Quaraun was now reaching a point where he simply wanted to be done with all of it. He was tired and sad and lonely and frightened and wandering through a field that was heading into a dark and forbidding forest, while thinking about the rumours people said about him and trying to remember what was fact and what was fiction and if anything in his life had ever happened at all. Quaraun began to wonder if BoomFuzzy hadn''t had the right idea and had perhaps Quaraun should simply forget about hunting Liches and kill himself. And so Quaraun''s bloody thoughts turned bloodier as he made plans to kill himself the same way BoomFuzzy had done. Quaraun was not a Lich, like BoomFuzzy had been, if he died, he wouldn''t regenerate, he wouldn''t come back, and BoomFuzzy knew this. Their souls were still connected. BoomFuzzy kept his distance from Quaraun, because Quaraun had become hell bent on killing him, but through it all, he could still feel every agonizing heart break that surged through the Elf''s broken heart. Quaraun had thought of suicide before, but something had always brought him out of it. This time was different. There was no glimmer of hope left in his heart. The Elf felt so very alone, unloved, unwanted, and with no one to turn to, and now he was lost and sitting in a field with a map in one hand and a black dagger in the other. Cast out of society. Alone. Unwanted. Unloved. Quaraun was deeply depressed and becoming more so with each passing day. The anniversary of BoomFuzzy''s death drew near and all he could think about was how much he simply wanted to die with BoomFuzzy. The wound in his side wasn''t helping him to feel any better. Quaraun sunk to his knees and burst into tears. The sadness overwhelmed him. Sadness. Loneliness. Emptiness. Quaraun lay on the mossy grass and did nothing but cry, for crying was all he could do. He had lost all will to do anything else. "I wish I had someone to talk to," he said to himself. "I hate being alone." I wish. What a very bad thing to say. Wishes are always granted, but not always as you wanted them. Wishes must be carefully worded. Very carefully. Especially when one has stopped to rest in a Faerie Forest. Even more so, when one is a wizard, whom among other things, sells bottled up wishes. A merchant of wishes. A DiJinn. Many years ago, the Di''Jinn had been a powerful guild of wizards. Formidable above all. Feared by all. Squid-headed alien creatures, known as the Thullids. A race from another galaxy. Capable of granting wishes. They took Faerie Magic and mixed it with their own, and they put everything they knew into a tiny pink jellyfish and implanted her in the brain a baby Moon Elf. This Moon Elf. Quaraun the Insane. Chapter 1 Part 3 of 3: Introducing The Pink Necromancer Quaraun was a Di''Jinn wizard, He knew the danger of wishes. The phrase ''I wish'' was a powerful phrase and one to be avoided, for a wish spoken from the heart, always came true, but not always with the desired results. But Quaraun wasn''t thinking about the laws and rules of magic just then. Instead he was thinking about how much pain he was in and how much he wanted someone to hold him and comfort him and make the pain go away. How empty his life was and how much he wanted the emptiness to go away, and how death seemed to be the only escape from a pain never ended. "I wish I had someone to talk to," he said to himself. "I hate being alone." Seemingly innocent words, spoken by a very powerful wizard, a very powerful, heart broken wizard, at the end of his rope, given up on ever his lost lover, and ready to kill himself. Thunder clapped in the distance and purple lightning flashed across the sky. The storm was moving, getting closer. With it, tall towering trees moved across the landscape, following the black clouds in their path that was fast closing in on the poor suicidal Elf. Had the grief stricken Elf looked up he would have seen that the field was fast vanishing around him as a vast endless old growth pine forest formed out of nowhere. The Faeries were out and about and their Forest of No Return, with it''s trees made out of gingerbread, was cropping up like poison mushrooms after a storm. Quaraun heard the thunder of the coming storm and felt the thunder rip through his heart as one more thing to torment him. He did not relish being caught outside in a storm. It was one more thing to weigh on the Elf''s already too weighed down mind. Quaraun sat up. Movement was becoming difficult. His wound had started to heal, but not well. The wound was infected and every move he made, very painful as a result. Quaraun stared at the map. "I wish you''d take me to BoomFuzzy. He''d take care of me. He always did. the healers were right. I shouldn''t be alone, I haven''t got enough brains to take care of myself." A second wish. BoomFuzzy was dead. The evil Faerie had killed himself in his gingerbread house, in the Forest of No Return. BoomFuzzy was dead. Quaraun knew this. He had found the body of his lover. But the azure eyed Moon Elf also knew that somewhere out there, BoomFuzzy''s soul wandered with the undead. BoomFuzzy had commit suicide in part of a Lich making ritual. BoomFuzzy was dead, but his soul lived on, wandering the earth in the realms of the unliving, trapped in the lands of eternal undeath. BoomFuzzy was a Lich. The Lich Quaraun now hunted and hoped to kill. No. That wasn¡¯t right. He didn¡¯t want to kill the Lich. Not really. Did he? Quaraun wasn¡¯t sure of his own thoughts any more. He couldn¡¯t even be sure of his own memories. Kill the Lich? Or join the Lich? Kill the Lich and it¡¯ll be gone. Kill himself and he can join the Lich and they can both be Liches together. Forever. BoomFuzzy. It always goes back to BoomFuzzy. BoomFuzzy. King Gwallmaiic. The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. The Lich, Quaraun was in love with and would have done anything to be reunited with. BoomFuzzy was the reason Quaraun was now returning to the Deep North, to kill himself and become a Lich so that they could be together again. BoomFuzzy had been the only thing Quaraun really wanted in life. The strange black eyed Elf had had a hypnotic effect on Quaraun. BoomFuzzy had not been an Elf. He was Faerie and his forest had overtaken the Moon Elf village in minutes, but the Moon elves had been so fascinated by the gingerbread house that had mysteriously appeared in their midsts, that they never noticed the vast enchanted forest that had surrounded their valley and cut them off from the rest of the world. The candy making and-Elf had put the entire village under a spell, but none was more effected by the Faerie then Quaraun. Quaraun had fallen deeply and madly in love with BoomFuzzy, and his death had been unexpected and brutal. It shook Quaraun to his core. Quaraun had found BoomFuzzy''s body, every last drop of blood drained from it and covering the floor of the gingerbread house. BoomFuzzy''s strange gleaming black eyes dead, empty, dull lifeless. Quaraun had known BoomFuzzy wasn''t an Elf, but he''d never seen the shape shifting Faerie in anything other then it''s Elf form, which had melted away upon his death.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. The Phooka''s death had left behind, was so unlike the physical form Quaraun knew as BoomFuzzy, that for a long time he''d been unable to believe that BoomFuzzy was dead. It was not until a hundred years later, when he came face to face with the Lich, BoomFuzzy had become, that it finally sunk in that BoomFuzzy was dead. BoomFuzzy, what was left of him, was a rotted corpse, an undead creature whose flesh had fallen from the bones, leaving behind an animated grinning skeleton. Seeing his beloved BoomFuzzy in this state, alive, but dead, very, very, dead, shocked the poor Elf and Quaraun had been unable to get over it. In an attempt to erase the memory of what the Lich looked like in it''s true form, Quaraun had started walking. He walked and walked and walked. For two hundred years, Quaraun walked from one side of the planet to another. He walked until he reached an ocean, then he got on a ship and a few months later found himself walking across a strange new country, where he continued to walk until he again reached another ocean and got on another ship, went to another country, and walked some more. The more he travelled, the more outlandish his outfits became as well. And the more famous the bereft Elf Necromancer became and the more he killed. Quaraun, once known as the Moon Elf wizard who helped people, became known as the insane Necromancer who killed without remorse, slaughtering anyone who dared anger him. Now when Quaraun stepped off a ship into a new port, crowds trembled at his feet, mothers grabbed their children and ran, soldiers dropped their swords at his feet and begged for mercy. Long gone were the days of the young Elf whom was bullied and teased. Legends of the Moon Elf Necromancer who possessed Thullid mind control had swept the globe and every citizen used stories of the world''s most feared wizard to terrify their children into obedience. People feared Quaraun more than they feared Thullids. For centuries, nothing was more feared than Thullids. The Thullids were monstrous beasts who''d fallen out of the sky centuries ago, trapped on this planet when their ship had crash landed. Thullids, in their true form, had tiny white worm-like bodies covered with fine arms. They burrowed into a host body, eat it''s brain, and then attached their thousands of tiny hair like arms to the nerves in the spine, taking full control of the body they had possessed. While the Thullids lacked defensible physical bodies and required taking over a host to survive, they possessed brain powers unlike anything anyone had ever seen. All they had to do was think it and it happened, no matter what it was. If a Thullid wanted you dead, all it had to do was look at you and wish you were dead and POOF, instantly you would drop dead. The younger the Thullid the less control they had over their powers and the more chaotic they were. Spawnlings, Thullid in their larval state, were dangerous if left to themselves. Thullids lived in hives and carefully guarded their spawnlings to keep them out of trouble. When word got out that an exceptionally powerful Thullid was without care of a hive, the Di''Jinn had sent their priests to bring him into their hive. Unfortunately for the Di''Jinn, they did not like horses much and when the infant Thullid in a young Elf''s body brought home a wounded Unicorn, the Di''Jinn sent the horse away to wander alone in the desert. Weeks later the young Quaraun returned home to the Valley of the Moon Elves, saying the Di''Jinn had sent him home. They believed him. The Moon Elves had no reason not too. Only two people knew the truth. One: the little black eyed Unicorn that had watched the carnage unfold as every last Di''Jinn wizard of the formidable Di''Jinn order was reduced to ash in seconds as their bodies burst into flames, burning from the inside out. And two: ZooLock the high priest of the Temple of Ashgill, who had seen into the dark murderous thoughts of the young Quaraun, and knew what he was about to do, and was thus able to escape before Quaraun murdered the rest of the Di''Jinn order with nothing but the words: "I wish you were all dead." The Thullids'' Di''Jinn wizards were the most feared creatures in all the known universe, no one went up against them, their combined powers could bring a continent to it''s knees, and Quaraun had killed them in seconds, with nothing but a wish. Unknown to Quaraun, the Unicorn, was not a Unicorn, by something far worse. A Phooka, named King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. An evil, blood thirsty, black hearted creature who relished in blood shed and carnage and was mesmerized by what Quaraun had done to the Di''Jinn and had followed him back to the Deep North, where he changed form and became a candy maker named BoomFuzzy. Gwallmaiic became obsessed with the Elf who had the ability to kill with a death wish, and left his lover Gibedon behind for Quaraun. But Quaraun knew none of this. Quaraun did not know that the horse he had saved, had in fact been BoomFuzzy in another form. While King Gwallmaiic stalked the Elf, fascinated by his powers and lost in an insatiable lust for Quaraun, ZooLock on the other hand, lived in mortal terror of the Moon Elf and fled to the farthest reaches of the world to get away from him, only to run into him at every turn. While their frequent crossing paths was nothing but a coincidence, ZooLock believed the Necromancer was hunting him and his terror of Quaraun knew no bounds. When ZooLock realized that Quaraun was looking for the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, he hatched a plot to find the enchanted map created by the Elf Eater and give it to Quaraun, knowing it''d send the Elf in circles on an endless wild goose chase, and thus keep Quaraun from crossing his path again. And thus Quaraun now had in his possession the Elf Eater''s famous enchanted map, and just as ZooLock had hoped, it was not being cooperative, and now Quaraun was hopelessly lost, as he tried to make his way back to the Deep North, only to find it always just around the corner and never in reach. Quaraun, unfortunately for many of his victims, wasn''t very smart, in fact, he could be safely called quite stupid, which was why he really had no idea that he was the one killing the people who dropping dead around him. Terror seized the heart of the poor frightened Elf every time villagers started dropping like flies, which resulted in more people dying and the Elf becoming even more terrified. Quaraun himself believed that the Lich Lords were following him and killing everyone that got near him. He thus became ever more reclusive, avoiding heavily populated areas, fearing that he''d walk into a village and every one would drop dead. Quaraun had been raised by the Moon Elves. He had been raised as a Moon Elf. He fully believed that he was a Moon Elf. To the rest of the world, Quaraun was nothing but a Moon Elf. A very powerful Moon Elf. King Gwallmaiic and ZooLock alone, knew the truth, that Quaraun was a Thullid living in an Elf''s body. Even Quaraun himself did not know he was a Thullid. He sometimes suspected it but he pushed those thoughts out of his head as often as he could. Had he known for sure that he was a Thullid, he might have been more careful of the words "I wish." I wish... They were Thullid words. Thullid wizards called themselves The Di''Jinn, and granted wishes is what they did. Anything you wished for, the Di''Jinn would grant it... for a price. Wishes were not to be taken lightly. Quaraun knew this. Quaraun was a Di''Jinn. He knew it better then most. Granting wishes was something the Di''Jinn did and Quaraun did try to avoid doing it. And yet in the past five minutes he said ¡°I wish...¡± twice. Quaraun knew not to say ¡°I wish...¡± But Quaraun was sick and hurt and tired and depressed and not thinking clearly just then, and really didn''t care any more about laws and rules of any sort, magic or otherwise. He just wanted to die so he could be with his lover again. The cool moss felt good on his wounded side. He would have lain there for longer, but the storm was moving in and the cheerless little Moon Elf did not want to get wet. Being wet on top of everything else, it was just too much. He pushed himself back up and looked around wondering which way to go. And so Quaraun sat staring at the map ZooLock had given him, his broken heart aching for BoomFuzzy and the desperate desire to die to be with him, as he said the words... "I wish you''d take me to BoomFuzzy. He''d take care of me. He always did." Chapter 1 Part 2 of 2: Three hundred and thirty years before Quaraun met Unicorn… Quaraun¡¯s obsession with hair defied any sense of logic. And it was his hair fetish is what spurred him into joining the Guild. The Guild meetings often talked of the topic of long hair. Many debates there were on the question of: did or did not a wizard get his power from his hair. Wizards were a superstitious lot and the bulk of the wizarding community did in fact believe that a mage¡¯s hair grounded them and the longer their hair, the more powerful they were. Quaraun had the longest hair of all, so everyone in the Guild just automatically assumed he must be the most powerful wizard, though they had never seen him do any magic. However, there was one wizard who had hair longer than Quaraun¡¯s. It looked short, because it was dread-locked. But every one knows a braid is only one third the length of its unbraided state. And so the wizard, who was famous for his 4 foot long dreadlocks, was deemed the most powerful mage of all, because unbraided. His hair was over 12 feet long. But this wizard with hair longer than Quaraun¡¯s was never in attendance at The Guild meetings. In fact, he wasn¡¯t even a member of the Guild at all. This infuriated Finderu, founder of the Guild, for he had taken it upon himself to make the laws and tell all wizards what they could or could not do. And for a wizard to not obey Finderu¡¯s laws, well, that was just completely unthinkable by Finderu¡¯s mind. And so up went the wanted posters. Wanted, Dead or Alive: The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Finderu wanted The Elf Eater¡¯s head. Quaraun wanted The Elf Eater¡¯s hair. Quaraun was mesmerized by the drawings of The Elf Eater on the wanted posters. Quaraun had never met the Elf Eater. Few had. He was an Illusionist, and a shape shifter. But one look at his wanted poster, and Quaraun could see The Elf Eater had beautiful hair. Wild hair. Unkept. Unbrushed. A long tangled mess. Exotic in its pure feralness. Huge masses of untamed dreadlocks. Quaraun¡¯s lust for The Elf Eater¡¯s hair burned uncontrollable, from the first time he laid on the dreadlocks he saw in the wanted poster. That The Elf Eater was a serial killer, a rapist, a murderer, and a practitioner of the darkest arts, mattered not to Quaraun, for all he could think about was his burning desire to meet the Elf Eater and run his fingers through the woolly dreadlocks. Indeed, every famous and very powerful wizard had a glorious head of hair and those who grew beards, had matching beards that they often tripped over. The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, most famous wizard the world had ever known, was often used as an example in wizarding textbooks as why a wizard should never cut their hair. King Gwallmaiic, for this was The Elf Eater¡¯s name, was said to be well over 2,000 years old, and had never cut his hair a day in his life. All who claimed to see him could never describe his face or his body or how he dressed, because they were always too mesmerized by his massive woollen dreadlocks. Huge dreadlocks that reached nearly to the ground, and were woven full if bones and cluotie ribbons. Of course, those who saw him, never lived to tell the tale, as he was an evil Necromancer, Blood Sorcerer, Illusionist, and serial killer whom had built an army of undead and marched across the planet mass murdering all who were unfortunate enough to cross his path. King Gwallmaiic had no royal blood. He was just a mage, who¡¯d grown very powerful, become undefeatable, and went on a killing spree across the Earth, leaving a mile wide path of blood shed everywhere he went. He had built himself an army of Liches and crowned himself king of the undead, then later swept through the Realm of Fae, slaughtering every king of every nation, and crowing himself The King of the Faeries. No beast was more feared than The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Quaraun was fascinated by The Elf Eater. Fascinated was probably not a big enough word for it. Quaraun was obsessed with The Elf Eater. Like a screaming fan girl, Quaraun grabbed up every book he could find about the mysterious evil wizard. Quaraun¡¯s fascination with The Elf Eater had been very worrisome for the Di¡¯Jinn, for the Di¡¯Jinn were masters of wish granting and had taught Quaraun this art, but Quaraun had used it to set about wishing to meet The Elf Eater. Fortunately, he had done this before mastering the art of granting wishes, so had never summoned the Elf Eater to the Di¡¯Jinn temple, as he had attempted to do many times. But those days were gone. For the Di¡¯Jinn was dead. Dead, because Quaraun had wished it so. He hadn¡¯t meant to kill the Di¡¯Jinn. It had been a wish spoken out of turn. Spoken in anger. Spoken without thinking. But it was a wish, never the less, and now, all the Di¡¯Jinn were dead. In the blink of an eye, hundreds of mages were turned into ash, to save the life of a tiny black Shetland Pony. A strange black Unicorn, that had appeared mysteriously one night in the desert, while Quaraun was reading a book about The Elf Eater and had mentally, unconsciously wished to meet the famous beast. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go to Ivujivik. I want to find the Elf Eater. I wish I knew where to find him.¡± Quaraun was brought out of his thoughts of The Elf Eater, the dead Di¡¯Jinn, and his beloved little pony, by a sudden gust of wind, that sent a pine branch full of snow down in front of him. ¡°You almost hit me!¡± Quaraun stared at the broken limb, which now closed off the path ahead of him. He was too busy thinking about the fallen limb to notice he had just uttered a wish, or notice that black clouds were filling the sky all around him. He was also too preoccupied to notice that he was in the tundra of the deepest depths of the Deep North, where there were no pine trees. It was too cold for pine trees. Had Quaraun been smarter, he would have paid less attention to his wet shoes and more attention to the vast acres of giant pine trees sprouting up around him, like a huge mushroom ring after a thunderstorm. But Quaraun wasn¡¯t noticing the impending arrival of The Forest of No Return, or the tiny black pony standing on the hill watching him. A little black pony, with a gleaming silver horn, and a long black mane, many decades ago braided and left unbrushed, now flowing in wild dreadlocks down to the horse¡¯s hooves. No, Quaraun was too busy looking down at his tickle-me-pink brocade slippers. ¡°My feet are wet.¡± Quaraun sat down in the snow. His hair was wet. His feet were wet. He was cold. He was hungry. He was lost. He was tired. And lonely. So very lonely. He didn¡¯t know where Ivujivik was. He didn¡¯t want to see his father. Or his sisters. He wanted to find out where The Elf Eater lived and go there. A foolish thought, as Quaraun was an Elf and King Gwallmaiic was called The Elf Eater precisely because he ate Elves, But, Quaraun was a bit too stupid to think about that, just like he was too stupid to not keep starting sentences with the deadly phrase: ¡°I wish.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. He was only on the road to Ivujivik to visit his father, because everyone else he knew was dead. He didn¡¯t know where else to go. He was lonely and wanted to be in a place where people knew him and welcomed him. But therein lay the bigger problem. The problem which Quaraun had forgotten. One thing Quaraun had forgotten was how utterly insane his people were. Especially his father, who was good at preaching charismatic conspiracy theories into the crowd and gathering up lynch mobs to march along with him terrorizing anyone and anything he deemed as Evil. Somehow, many hundreds of years ago, Quaraun¡¯s father had gotten a hold of a Human Bible, and while he didn¡¯t believe any Human Christian religion, the old Elf firmly believed that the archangels of the Bible, the Alfar, the Watchers, and Grigori were in fact Elves. Moon Elves, to be exact. And so Quaraun¡¯s father had fervently studied every Human folklore he could find about angels and had created a cult that believed the Moon Elves to be gods over Humans and gods over plants and gods over animals and gods over the entire Earth in general. Quaraun had forgotten about his father¡¯s radical extremist cult and his violent, riotous followers who devoted their lives to torturing and killing anyone they deemed to be not worthy - and that was pretty much every one outside of their psychotically deranged fear mongering group. Quaraun¡¯s father had murdered Quaraun¡¯s mother, and would have also murdered Quaraun, had Quaraun¡¯s uncle not stepped in and handed the child over to a local Thullid priest, ZooLock, and told the priest to take the child and run. ZooLock grabbed the child and ran. He fled the, still yet undiscovered by White Humans, and not yet named the land of Canada, and made his way to his temple in Persia. Thus Quaraun came to live with the Di¡¯Jinn. Quaraun remembers his father murdering his mother. He remembered his father trying to kill him as well. But he couldn¡¯t remember why his father had done it. And it was now 70 years later. Quaraun had concluded that is so much time, his father had, had time to change. Become nicer. Kinder. Less violent. Less radical. Less insane. Maybe he didn¡¯t even lead his little cult of extremists any more. When you live so many decades away from someone, you tend to forget the bad things and reminisces for the good. Quaraun liked thinking about the good. There was so much bad. Lots of bad. Good was good. But there was so little good. Quaraun¡¯s childhood had been bad. Very bad. He¡¯d witnessed his father murder his mother. His father knew this and beat him often. His uncle, his father¡¯s older brother, had decided that before the bitter Elf beat the boy to death, to send Quaraun to Persia, to a school for wizards. But that was 70 years ago, more or less. And now the wizards were all dead. And Quaraun had no place else to go. Outside of the wizards, he knew no one. So, he was walking his way across the world, from Persia, all the way back to Ivujivik. The Atlantic Ocean had posed a small problem as Humans did not believe there was a country on the other side, so finding a ship willing to cross the ocean had been difficult. Quaraun couldn¡¯t remember any good, but he knew there must have been some. Everyone had good in them, Quaraun often said. Common Elves and Lower Elves, in all their many dozens of races, were friendly and tolerant of of races and other species. This could not be said of the High Elves, not any more at least. In centuries past when Elves were common across the land, no Elf lived in fear, but the Elves were a dying species now, and with so many bigger, stronger beings taking over the planet, the Elves had become fearful of their own survival. Once hundreds of races of Elves had walked the earth, but most were now extinct or fast in danger of becoming so. In an attempt to preserve the last few serving races of Elves, the Elves had begun to live in very isolated communities, shutting out outsiders, even shutting out other races of Elves. Only a few thousand Elves now remained. On the entire planet. Elves were nearly extinct. In most cases, each race of Elf was down to only a few dozen left. Their numbers were fast dwindling as Humans spread like a plague across the earth. With a group about 500 members strong, the Moon Elves had one of the last large Elf communities left, which further supported their belief that they were superior to all other Elves. While the other races of Elves were dying out, the Moon Elves were surviving, a fact that inflated their already puffed up egos. The Moon Elves lived in an arctic region only a few miles south of Santa¡¯s Village, which wasn¡¯t exactly in the North Pole. It was just East of Ivujivik, in Labrador. Far enough North that everyone said it was in the North Pole. The Moon Elves lived on top of the world. Isolated. Lords of madness. Rulers of their own insanity. Gods in their own private insane asylum. With nothing but ice-capped mountains, glaciers, and icebergs for neighbours. And only each other to tell themselves how great they were. The Moon Elves had long ago sunk into a genetic insanity caused by centuries of incest. This had resulted in horrific blood lusts and violence. The Moon Elves often turned to cannibalism out of nothing more than boredom. Whitest of the albino white High Elves, the Moon Elves, based their superiority over others, by the near colourlessness of their skin. Quoting the Human Bible as they did so. Self-bred to match the colour of the vast endless miles of snow. Slaughtering any infant born with dark eyes, dark hair, or heaven forbid dark skin. Moon Elves could move through the snow and be seen by no one. Moon Elves lived in the glory that was their pure whiteness. White skin. White hair. White eyes. They moved like ghosts through the snow. Their great whiteness made them better at hiding. Better at blending in. Better at disappearing into their surroundings. For this they thought themselves superior. Only this and nothing more. They were the whitest beings on the Earth and therefore, they were the best, or so they had convinced themselves. Nothing else made them any better than any other Elf, other than the colour of their skin. The Moon Elves had never seen deserts, rain forests, swamps, pine forests, hard wood forests, marshes, prairies... that these things existed, were lost to them. They lived in the caves, along the coast of two sheer cliffs, that dropped into the ocean. To their North was nothing but frozen ocean and towering glaciers. To their South was a vast snow-laden tundra, To their East was Ivujivik itself, a tiny Inuit Village, home of the only Humans for hundreds of miles. To their West lay Otchipwe-kitchi-gami also known as Lake Gitchagumi, and across it was the start of Canada¡¯s vast seemingly uncrossable rocky mountains in to the Yukon territory, still yet untouched by White Humans. Elves did not keep track of time, but Humans in France and Rome did and Quaraun had lived in both, briefly. The year was somewhere around 800AD, though Quaraun did not know the exact year, nor did he care. It would still be another several hundred years before Europeans would discover this vast continent in the world¡¯s unexplored Western oceans. Quaraun, while living with the Di¡¯Jinn, had been much travelled. The Di¡¯Jinn priests had taken him on treks across Europe and Asia and Africa and of course the Middle East where Quaraun had called home these past 70 years. The Moon Elves were whiter than the snow they lived in, and that made them better than anyone, or so they said, because they were able to blend in with their snowy surroundings and nothing could find them to kill them. If your hair, skin, or eyes could be seen against a backdrop of snow, you were inferior and worthy of the death that came for you. When they started killing off the other races of Elves, they started with the darkest skinned races first. The Moon Elves had been driven to the Deep North nearly a thousand years ago, in the great war between the High Elves and the Common Elves. Crowning themselves Kings over all life, the Moon Elves had taken to slaughtering all the other races of Elves in a fanatical cleansing of the bloodline. The war had battled on for decades, ending with the few remaining unannihilated races of High Elves, banding together with Common Elves, Dark Elves, and Blood Elves, in an attempt to drive back the psychotically deranged Moon Elves. The problem with fighting the Moon Elves was they didn¡¯t care if they died for their cause, nor did they care who they had to kill to prove they were right. They were zealous fanatics ready to die for their cause, and they were led by a Necromancer King who was resurrected the dead of their fallen enemies to do battle for them. The war would still have been raging on, had it not been for a blinding white light that flashed through the sky, followed by a huge silver ball the size of a small planet crashing into the Atlantic Ocean and flooding most of the planet. Entire nations were wiped out. Many species simply vanished, drowned in the great flood. Dragons and Unicorns, once plentiful beasts, were now rarely seen. Nearly every magical race was brought to the brink of extinction, allowing Humans to take over the planet. The Moon Elves retreated to the Deep North, while the few races to survive the flood banded together in a desperate attempt to rebuild their crippled world. After many months of watery terror, the flood waters went down, and while nations tried to rebuild, a new enemy arose from the depths of the ocean. Sightings of strange tentacle beasts began to be reported by sailors. Stories of monsters pulling ships below the waves, and later resurfacing, the crew dead, their undead bodies animated, the heads of the dead men replaced by squids. The alien squid headed beasts soon left the ocean in search of more bodies into which to implant their young. Soon the world forgot about the terror of the Moon Elves, as a new terror walked among them: the Thullids. Little was known of the Thullids. Where they came from was unclear. All that was really known was that these were the last survivors of a planet whose sun had blown up and burned its solar system. Their goals however were very clear: capture all life and take control of the planet. Captives were divided into three groups: food, slaves, and host bodies for implanting young. While the squid-headed Thullids were the ones most people saw, there were also bird headed and octopus headed Thullids, likewise easy to detect by their outer appearance, but what few people knew was there were others that never hatched out of their host¡¯s head, and walked among the world, undetected: the Jellies. The most well known of the Thullids, were the Di¡¯Jinn, a cult-like group of Wizard priests whose one goal in life was to worship and protect a tiny pink Jellyfish, whom they called The Grand High Emperor of the Triple Planets. The Di¡¯Jinn stood out among other Thullids by the bright pink robes they wore, all heavily embroidered with jellyfish-like abstract patterns, an outward sign of their loyalty to the insane and immortal pink Jellyfish they worshipped. A JellyFish who was also an Elder Brain. In the Temple of the Di¡¯Jinn, sat one Thullid, ZooLock the Great, who had served the Grand High Emperor for millennia. It was his job, to carry with him everywhere he went, a small round glass bowl of water, in which lived a tiny pink Jellyfish, that was the ruler of all the Thullids. Dozens of Di¡¯Jinn priests, trained as fierce warriors, guarded ZooLock, who guarded their precious pink Jellyfish. For centuries, ZooLock stood at his post, until one day, rumour arose that an army of Liches had arrived from the North, and fear stuck the old Thullid¡¯s heart. As powerful as the Thullid were, they were no match for Liches, especially not Liches built by the evil Phookan Necromancer Gwallmaiic, King of the Faeries. Everyone knew of Gwallmaiic, The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, a power hungry shape shifting Phooka, who for nearly a thousand years, had been slaughtering Elves and Faeries and had recently begun targeting Thullid villages. Rumours were circulating that Gwallmaiic was looking for the Thullid¡¯s infamous Jellyfish King, and with the Elf Eater¡¯s army seen marching across the desert of the Di¡¯Jinn, ZooLock gathered up the Grand High Empire and fled. Terror seized every Thullid on the planet when news of the kidnapped jellyfish went out across the land, and try as they might, no one could find the squid-headed priest or his tiny pink ward. A new war broke out, this time between the Thullids and the Faeries, but in the end, the King was gone and for centuries there was no word of what had happened to ZooLock or the sacred pink Jellyfish. Fearing The Grand High Emperor was dead, the Thullids fell into mourning. ~o0o~ Chapter 2: The Di’Jinn Priest and The Little Black Pony or A Tale of The Boy Who Loved Unicorns Chapter 2: The Di¡¯Jinn Priest and The Little Black Pony or A Tale of The Boy Who Loved Unicorns ~o0o~ Outside the Temple of the Di¡¯Jinn, a herd of wild black ponies gathered. No one could explain where they had come from. They simply appeared one night. Out of nowhere. As if wished into existence. ¡°Oh, no!¡± The Di¡¯Jinn recognized what had happened. Who they were. By what method, they arrived. Quaraun, in his youthful, childish innocence, devoted countless hours to staring at the wanted poster of King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, brushing his hair and lusting for The Elf Eater. ¡°I wish...¡± Those ghastly, horrible, deadly words. The Di¡¯Jinn regretted teaching Quaraun how to cast wish granting spells. For he employed wishing spells often. Usually without thinking. Quaraun liked wishing things into existence. Pink roses in the desert, where pink roses ought not to be. Blowing in the wind, nodding their heads, oblivious to their unsuitable surroundings. Pink frogs in the estuaries along the river. Swimming in the leafy green reeds. It became an exceedingly bad habit. And that night, the evening the little black unicorn with the gleaming silver horn, arrived in the desert, Quaraun, absentmindedly said: ¡°I wish...¡± while voicing his childish desires to meet The Elf Eater. And they arrived. Tumbling out of the sky. Plummeting into the desert sand. Ripped from their homelands, and spit out of a portal into the desert. Thousands of little, miniature, shaggy black horses, no larger than goats. They roamed the desert of Di¡¯Jinn. In places, no horse could survive, feeding on what no one knew.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. At the head of the herd marched the smallest pony of all. A beautiful shaggy black pony. A strange-looking pony. A black pony whose fur was grown grey and clumped with mats from years of not being brushed. A wild-looking pony. A pony with fangs. More monster than pony. A Kelpie kin, of this there could be no doubt. A strange-looking pony with wild matted braids in its mane and tail and a gleaming silver horn shining upon its head. Where the Di¡¯Jinn went, the tiny unicorn and its mysterious ghost-like herd of Shetland ponies followed. But they followed, not the Di¡¯Jinn. No. They followed Quaraun. One day, rumours began to circulate that the unthinkable had been done. The Grand High Emperor himself had been implanted into the body of a host. Thullid raiding parties searched villages for Thullid Spawnlings. The Thullids terrorized nations in a desperate search to find their missing King. And everywhere the Thullid went, a small black unicorn followed. Watching. Waiting. Waiting for the day when the Di¡¯Jinn would return to their temple with their beloved sacred pink Jellyfish in tow. While ZooLock himself was never found, the Di¡¯Jinn stopped searching when they received a desperate plea for help from the Moon Elves, of all people. Among other things, the Di¡¯Jinn were known as great healers. And the Moon Elves had in their midst a mad child they knew not what to do with. A child that had 6 years prior been attacked by Thullids and was suspected of being a Spawnling. The Moon Elves were used to insanity in their kin. It was natural for them. So insane were they that they did not see their own insanity and judged anyone who was normal as insane. And thus, poor Quaraun, who was not insane, was deemed to be the most insane of all. Simply because the other Moon Elves were too insane to recognize harmless normality as sanity. What wasn¡¯t natural was the small Elfling named Quaraun, only 9 years old, who one day walked out into the village and said to the other Elflings: ¡°I wish you would all drop dead.¡± Immediately they obediently obeyed, and every Elfling in the village dropped dead. Were the child not the crown prince and the only male heir of the royal family, the Moon Elf villagers would have stoned the strange child to death. In fact, they tried to do just that. But his uncle, the King, immediately locked the child in the tower of the Moon Elf castle. And then sent a message to the Di¡¯Jinn. No one in the village understood this, for it was unlike their King to contact any outsider. He wouldn¡¯t even consort with lesser races of Elves, let alone a demonic beast like a Thullid. And yet, here they were. The Thullid¡¯s infamous Di¡¯Jinn priests, standing in their village. With the Moon Elf King, handing the only male heir over to them. It shocked everyone. And when the Di¡¯Jinn returned to their temple, with Quaraun in tow, they called off their search for their missing pink Jellyfish. And after this, they focused all their attention on the young Moon Elf. All around the Di¡¯Jinn temple stood armies of little black ponies, monitoring, lingering, holding back, waiting. Every day for seven decades, the little Moon Elf left the temple to take care of the wild ponies playing in the river. All the ponies kept their distance, save one: the one with the gleaming silver horn. Then one day, when Quaraun arrived at the river, he found the Di¡¯Jinn waiting... The ponies fled in terror, but few escaped the wrath of the Di¡¯Jinn. And the black unicorn stared in terror as the Thullids slaughtered his army. The young Elf stood over the dead ponies in tears. With the herd of ponies dead, the Thullids turned upon the unicorn. But they didn¡¯t live long enough to kill him. ¡°You¡¯ll not kill my Unicorn!¡± Was the last words the Thullids heard. The unicorn watched as every last Di¡¯Jinn withered away and died in horrific agony, under the wrath of their beloved pink Jellyfish. ~o0o~ Chapter 3: The Elf who was not an Elf ~o0o~ Quaraun was an Elf who was not an Elf. Quaraun was a Thullid, living in the reanimated carcass of a long deceased Elf. Thullids change their hosts every few years to avoid becoming physically attached to the host. If they occupy in the cadaver for too long, their tentacles fuse with the host¡¯s nerves, brains, and spinal column. It becomes impossible to detach from the host¡¯s body. But Quaraun was a vain little JellyFish. She lusted for the beauty of this male Moon Elf¡¯s body. And so, decades passed and now the parasitic sea creature was powerless to leave his body. The little pink JellyFish lived safe and protected, snugly nestled inside the Moon Elf¡¯s skull. So she didn¡¯t consider the repercussions of not leaving his body and changing hosts. While residing with the fiercely protective Di¡¯Jinn, they made certain the Elf¡¯s body met with no damage. But now, the Di¡¯Jinn are dead. And on his own, trekking across the world, Quaraun had no one to protect him. No one to look after him. No one to accompany him. No one to cheer up his depressed mind. No one to sooth his fears. No one to silence his paranoias. No one to dry his drench body. No one to care for him. No one to cook for him. No one to temper his morbidity. No one to instruct him. No one to warm him on cold nights. No one to guide him. No one to advise him on how to do the simple, basic, reasonable common sense things he often forgot to do: like to put a coat on during a snowstorm. Or not trudging through the blizzard at all and waiting for the snowfall to cease. Quaraun listened to the sound of the snow as it fell steadily around him. Flakes stuck to his lashes, clumped him into his hair, soaked his clothes, and froze his skin. The blanket of snow insulated the sounds of the world, blocking them out. Save for the high-pitched whistling wind. The smell of the snow was strange, new, different, yet old and familiar. It was clean and wet, a smell of cleanness that he could not describe, but found that he greatly enjoyed. After leaving the Di¡¯Jinn desert, he had roamed from town to town, port to port, village to village, city to city, aimlessly going from one country to the next. Searching. For what, he did not know. A place where he belonged. A place where he fit in. A place to call home. And finding none, he decided to return to the place of his birth. A wild, cold place, deep in the north, buried under snow. It had taken him several years to reach Ivujivik, and now he was only a few days away from the settlement where he had been born. The cold, clean fragrance of the brisk, snow-filled air stirred his childhood memories with happy thoughts of his beloved mother. He missed her. He missed the snow. It was good to be back after so many years away. But the snow was piling up all around him. Howling winds and bitter frost stung his long, thin, rabbit like pointed ears. A sensible Elf would have pitched a tent along a snow drift and waited out the storm. Quaraun was not a sensible Elf. The Di¡¯Jinn had tried to teach Quaraun how to be sensible. But intelligence was not Quaraun¡¯s strong point and nothing he learned remained long in his empty, brainless skull. Quaraun¡¯s skull had long ago been hollowed out, to make room for the tiny pink Thullid who lived inside. Since Quaraun was a Thullid, Quaraun was also a Psion. Quaraun was a Psion able to hypnotize an entire city into being his thralls. And thus able to take control of every mind if he wanted. But he didn¡¯t want that. Quaraun despised politics, authority, science, calculations, prestige, wealth, gluttony, legislation, education, influence, finance, government, maths, power, money, greed, law, capital, avarice... In fact, Quaraun hated most everything that drove men to seek becoming a mage. Quaraun was peaceful, mellow, tranquil and possessed no lust for power, no desire to control others. No glut for gold. There is no need for power, there is no need to control others, there is no need for gold. Though the Di¡¯Jinn called her an Elder Brain, one of the Elder God¡¯s, the little pink JellyFish was just a brain sucking jellyfish. A very old jellyfish. Tens of thousands of years old. Who despised the thirst for power or the desire to dominate others. Quaraun¡¯s ambitions were as simple as his simple mind. He preferred to sit and weave silk. Sit and embroider silk. And sell his embroidered and beaded pink silk scarves at the market. Quaraun ignored his psionic abilities. Quaraun did not want his powers. Powers he didn¡¯t need, and so didn¡¯t use. He just wanted to live a traditional lifestyle, like an ordinary commoner, and forget he possessed tremendous powers of mind control. And all of this infuriated the Di¡¯Jinn. For the Di¡¯Jinn planned for their Elder Brain to reign supreme over all life. They desired to conquer the planet. They craved to rule the world. The Di¡¯Jinn did not truly care about Quaraun. They were full of greed and lust of power. Quaraun was a tool. A tool they could use. Only ZooLock had truly cared for Quaraun. The rest of the Thullids only wanted to exploit the Elder Brain to subjugate the world and enslave all races as their thralls. But Quaraun just preferred to be a merchant. Quaraun wanted to forget magic. Forget his psychic abilities. Forget the Di¡¯Jinn. And right now, he wanted a warm, dry bed to sleep in. And The Elf Eater. Quaraun sat shivering in the snow, reflecting on the glories of being The Elf Eater¡¯s lover. To feel the warmth of The Elf Eater¡¯s body. To smell his flesh. To touch The Elf Eater¡¯s hair. Quaraun tried to remember the hot Persian sun over the desert of the Di¡¯Jinn. He hoped that visualizing warm thoughts would warm his freezing body. But this did nothing to drive away the chill, so now he turned to warm thoughts of The Elf Eater instead. It had not occurred to Quaraun to put on a coat or a cloak or a cape or a shawl. Nor did Quaraun consider the inefficiency of silk at keeping you warm, unless you are bundled up in many layers of it. No, warming himself by putting on a coat was not where his brain defaulted. His brain defaulted instead to speculating about warming himself in the Elf Eater¡¯s bed. Quaraun could easily have dealt with the issue of his trembling hands by putting on gloves. Warming up his frozen feet by removing his wet satin brocade slippers and putting on fur-lined boots were thoughts too big for the tiny JellyFish living in Quaraun¡¯s brain. He had gloves and boots in his bag. But Quaraun tended to not think logically, especially about fashion. The practicality of his clothes always took a back seat to fashion. And right now, he wanted a warm, dry bed to sleep in. And The Elf Eater. And so, Quaraun remained shivering in the snowbank, contemplating on how wonderful it would be to be The Elf Eater¡¯s lover. To know the passion of The Elf Eater¡¯s soul. To smell his flesh. To caress The Elf Eater¡¯s hair. To feel... Quaraun shook the daydreams from his head. Quaraun was a virgin. He had never had sex with anyone. Had never desired sex with anyone. He didn¡¯t know why he desired sex with The Elf Eater. But he did. It was a thought that plagued his mind daily, for years now. A deep, dark secret Quaraun shared with no one, was his deep, dark desires, to share his bed with The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. A fantasy he kept carefully locked away in his heart, where no one would ever find it. No one must ever know he felt this way. Quaraun tried to think of something else. But right now, it was difficult to think of anything but the ice. And the snow. And the cold. The sky grew darker; the clouds grew heavier; the trees grew taller and the army of undead grew greater. Quaraun sat in the snow, shivering. Cold. Too cold. So very cold. He needed to take his mind off the snow. Off the cold. He was freezing to death, sitting in the snow. Trembling. Shivering. Too cold to see the Faeries moving in, closing in, gathering around him. Quaraun needed to rest. He needed to get warm again. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a lulled, meditative state of just listening to the endless silence of snow. He tried to think happy thoughts. No. Not happy thoughts. Warm thoughts. Yes. Warm thoughts. Quaraun¡¯s mind drifted and wandered through lucid thoughts that floated around inside his head.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. A peaceful, contented serenity Quaraun, swept over him, filing his mind with soft, warm, comforting thoughts. The crisp, clean smell of the fresh, icy snow. The alpine air, floral of scents of lovely pink orchids and lush evergreens. The minty fragrance of checker berries and wintergreen leaves. The warm earthiness of sphagnum moss, peat, and leaf mould. The cool late spring breeze wafting down the mountain, chilling the air and awakening the nodding yellow headed daffodils. The warmth of the sun, melting the muddy slushy golden brown snow of winter. Melting summer snow. Filling creeks, brooks, and rivers full of glorious, brown mud, cascading into the ocean estuary. Lush, green reeds, tall slender grass, fluffy brown seed-heads. All nodding and waving to the summer breeze. To joyfully be at one with the serenity of nature. To hear the birds chirping cheerfully. The tadpoles singing. The warm embrace of mother¡¯s ever loving tentacles. Warm, slithering, slimy, squishy thoughts of swimming in lovely, green algae filled primordial goo. Tadpoles, swimming in one mass herd, filling the slimy muck, with endless black wriggling specks, each competing for a host. The chilled cold of dark caves. The warmth of bubbling water, heated by underground rivers of lava. Purple, grape-like clumps of sticky, slime coated soft-shell caviar-like eggs clung to the edges of the goo-filled pool. The singing larvae. Desperate. Devouring. Fighting. Struggling. Killing. The mindless massacre of mountainous millions. The fight to survive. Quaraun opened his eyes. That wasn¡¯t right. Where had those slithering, squishy, gooey, slimy thoughts come from? He hadn¡¯t thought them. He was certain of it. Thullid thoughts. No. He was an Elf. Not a Thullid. Elves think Elven thoughts. Quaraun tried to think Elven thoughts once again, but it was no use. Thullid thoughts kept slithering in, slinking their way around his brain. He¡¯d been away from Elf society for far too long. He¡¯d grown to use to living with Thullids, thinking like a Thullid, talking like a Thullid, acting like a Thullid, dressing like a Thullid. This would have to stop. It would do not good to have a Thullid living in an Elf body, in Elf society, if it acted like a Thullid. Quaraun tried to think of birds and bunnies, flowers and trees, but could only think of jellyfish and squid, plecos and octopi. She longed for her ocean, so far away. A lifetime ago on another planet. She¡¯d never swim again. She was trapped. Trapped in the body of an Elf. No more freedom to swim with the singing sea slugs or dance with the whales. No. Stuck forever, never again to feel the water on her skin, the waves in her tentacles. She was no longer a beautiful pink jellyfish swimming in the ocean. She was now a parasite, feeding off the brain of a male Elf. And she needed to learn to think Elven thoughts before she reached Quaraun¡¯s home village. Flowers. Feathers. Fish. Fish? Do Elves think about fish? No, no, no, no, no! He had not been thinking Thullid thoughts or warm underground primordial pools. He had been pondering Elven thoughts. Thoughts of nature. Thoughts of spring. Quaraun was an Elf not a Thullid. He reminded himself that he didn¡¯t live with the Di¡¯Jinn any more. The Di¡¯Jinn were dead. He was on his way to live with the Elves once again. He had to learn to think like an Elf. He must remember to act like an Elf. Talk like an Elf. And think Elf thoughts. Yes. He was an Elf now. Not a Thullid. No more. Never again. He must think thoughts of trees, not caves, Birds flying in the terrible, brilliant, bright, blinding sunlight, not tadpoles slithering in cool, comforting, dark, delicious watery caverns. The slithering madness encroached upon his warm, comforting thoughts. Pure, glorious madness. He craved it. He lusted for it. And the fight to survive against all odds. The lust for brains. The sumptuous, juicy goodness, the delicate flavour... No. Quaraun stood up suddenly. His foot long ears alert, high over his head, stiff with fear. His eyes darting quickly to and fro, glancing around the darkness of night, in search of the source of these thoughts. Thullids. There were Thullids in the area. He felt them in his head. He heard them in his mind. No. It was a hive mind. He was connected to a Thullid hive mind. An Elder Brain. A massive JellyFish that controlled the minds of its purple octopi headed priests. A creature that controlled the hive mind of entire solar systems. Who in turn controlled the will of endless denizens of mindless thralls, enslaved to doing Thullid bidding. Somewhere nearby was an Elder Brain, and a pod of Thullid priests, and a herd of mindless thralls, enslaved to the Elder Brain. And Quaraun was connected to its hive mind. Tapped into its thoughts. And it was nearby. Wait. No. Was it? There couldn¡¯t be a Thullid here in the snow. He was the only one for miles. Somewhere, in this snow, was a Thullid. He felt a hive mind connection to this Thullid. He recognized it at once. He knew which Thullid he shared a hive mind with. ZooLock. The Di¡¯Jinn priest. ZooLock the Great. The last Di¡¯Jinn priest. ZooLock, an ancient Thullid, with violet and purple mottled skin, and big golden Pleco eyes, and sharp toothed lamprey maw surrounded by a dozen long puce pink, slithering tentacles. ¡°No,¡± Quaraun whispered under his breath. ¡°It can¡¯t be. The Di¡¯Jinn are dead. I killed them. There can¡¯t be one still alive.¡± Quaraun heard none of the undead. Too deep in his own thoughts. Too cold to think clearly. The trees continued to grow thinker. Quaraun saw none of this. His mind was focused. Searching. ZooLock. His captor. His gallor. His prison guard. Fear filled Quaraun as his mind flooded with ancient thoughts. Long forgotten thoughts. Thoughts he¡¯d deliberately buried. Thoughts he wanted to forget. Thoughts of a war fought a thousand years ago. A war on a distant planet. A planet in a distant galaxy. A galaxy in another dimension. A dimension, far, far away. A war fought over a tiny pink JellyFish. An itty, bitty thing, no larger than a thumbnail. A teeny-tiny-itty-bitty-tensy-weensy little pink JellyFish. The Sacred Pink JellyFish. A tiny sea creature, who was the single most powerful, most ancient Elder Brain of them all. ZooLock, her devoted follower, her loyal priest, who loved The Scared Pink JellyFish above all else, had stolen her. Kidnapped her. Scooped her up out of her briny sea and bottled her up in a little glass goldfish bowl. Scared and confused, the tiny frightened pink jellyfish swam in fear. Not knowing why she was taken. Not knowing where they were going. Not aware of the massive implosion of the planet that was taking place all around her. The Thullid planet was dying. The world reduced to chaos. And the Elder Gods were laid to blame. The Elder Gods should have seen it coming. The Elder Gods should have known. Thus was the battle cry of the outraged denizens of the Thullid planet. The Thullid Sun was in Super Nova, and the Thullid citizens had blamed their Elder Gods for not knowing ahead of time that the world was ending. But they didn¡¯t notice. They hadn¡¯t seen. For the Elder Brains were not gods. The Elder Brains were just very intelligent sea creatures, with very powerful psionic abilities. And the Elder Gods, now revealed for what they truly were, powerful psychics with no go-powers at all. The populations of enthralled slaves broke free of their mental bonds. Stormed into the underground caves. Attacked the slime filled pools. Killed the Elder Brains. Slaughtered the sea creatures whom had enslaved them. The Thullid revolt was fruitless, however, for the sun was in super nova and all would die as the planet was sucked into its exploding sun. But all would die free, knowing that moments before the world had ended, they had slaughtered every last Elder Brain. But one escaped. One Elder Brain survived. The Scared Pink JellyFish. Ripped from her tadpole filled pool. Sloshing against the sides of the glass bowl she now found herself in, as one terrified priest dared defy the crowd and fled the temple of the Elder Gods, desperate to escape with at least one Thullid Elder Brain still alive. Like rats fleeing a sinking ship, Thullid masses boarded vast star-ships and left the planet to die, leaving behind millions, billions, who had not prepared for the end, whom had not believed the scientists. There were not enough ships. Few survived. The ships drifted through space. Some drift still, now empty, the crew and passengers long ago dead. Some invaded other worlds, conquering them, destroying them, in massive Thullid take over. Most ships were lost, to where no one knows. One ship crashed on Earth. In the icy cold waters, off the shores of Ivujivik, Quebec. Most of its crew and passengers drowned in the depths of Earth¡¯s bitterly cold waters. One priest survived. Still clutching his precious cargo. Still clinging to the glass orb, filled with water. But within the glass globe, she lay dying. The Scared Pink JellyFish had stopped swimming. Too weak. Suffering. In so much pain. The endless agony. As ZooLock sat in the snow, in the rocky cliffs of Ivujivik, watching the last of the Elder Brains die, he looked up to see a young mother and her son coming down the mountain. Desperate to save his pretty, pink ladyship¡¯s life, ZooLock did what had never been done before: he implanted the Elder Brain in a host. Elder Brains were never implanted. Never. It simply wasn¡¯t done. But outside of her tadpole filled pool of slime, she simply would not live. At least in a host, she had a chance to survive. Eat the host¡¯s brain. Absorb its soul. Connect to its nerves. And become one with the host until the fully enveloped host existed no more. The young mother deeply loved her little boy. She¡¯d never hurt him, no matter what he¡¯d become. ZooLock sensed this. He perceived immediately what he must do. And before the woman had a chance to react, ZooLock grabbed the toddler from her grasp, shattered the glass bowl he was carrying, and inserted the tiny parasitic pink jellyfish up his nostril into his brain. The mother screamed and fought, struggled and shrieked, but one simply can not fight a strong, healthy Thullid Priest. A monk. A warrior. A zealous radical, devoted to his religion. Devoted to his god. Wearing neon yellow silks, embroidered with vivid eye popping pink jellyfish. And armed with a dozen well muscled tentacles, a circle of sharp lamprey teeth, and a psionic mind. There was no fighting such a beast. And had it been left to ZooLock, the young mother would have served as his dinner. But the Sacred Pink JellyFish took hold of his mind and demanded he spare the mother to raise the child. The agony. So much agony. She could not forget the pain. The terror. The agony. The suffering. The mind-numbing agony. She had felt everything the boy felt as he died. The boy died in agony as the weeks passed and the pink jellyfish ate his brain. Its tentacles growing and spreading through his body, fussing with his spinal column and overtaking everything he was. The JellyFish hated what she had done. She felt every agony the boy felt. She suffered with him. As the boy screamed, she cursed ZooLock for the suffering she had caused to this innocent child whom had hurt no one. He did not deserve to die like this. She¡¯d have done anything to give him back his life and die in his place. But it was too late. The transformation had already begun. The boy was dying, and she was now him. Her mind becoming one with him as he suffered. And in her guilt for killing the child, rather than over take him, she became him. No more the Thullid Elder Brain leading an entire solar system, she became a 3-year-old Moon Elf, who dearly loved his mother. The Sacred Pink JellyFish sent ZooLock away, telling him to never return. She did not want to him again. She would never again be a Thullid. She was now an Elf. This Elf. And she remained him forever. For sake of his grieving mother, she remained the Elf, even these many long years after his mother had died. Thus the Sacred Pink JellyFish became Quaraun. And Quaraun would always remain an Elf. Never evolving to look like other Thullids. Never becoming the squid headed, tentacle beast everyone recognized a Thullid to be. ZooLock. The Last of the Di¡¯Jinn priests. Quaraun. The Last of The Elder Brains. The Di¡¯Jinn were dead. Dead at the hands of their beloved Jelly who had turned on them, in the body of an Elf, and killed them all, to save the life of a little black unicorn: The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Quaraun sat shivering in the snow on the road to Ivujivik, thinking dark thoughts of his pre-Elf Thullid past, oblivious to the dark eyes watching him. ~o0o~ Chapter 4: The desert of Di’Jinn lay dead ~o0o~ The desert of Di¡¯Jinn lay dead. All life in the desert died. Everything. Everything lay dead. Every bird. Every beast. Every Human. Every non-Human. Every insect. Every plant. Every germ. Every bacteria. Nothing survived. Nothing could disobey the fiercesome will of an Elder Brain. The Elder Brain pointed a finger into the desert and commanded: ¡°DIE!¡± And obediently all life did exactly as ordered: All live in the desert curled up and died. Everything alive moments before died and withered into dust. In the blink of an eye, all life in the desert of the Di¡¯Jinn ceased to exist. The brilliant orange sun blazed down on the empty nothingness. The golden desert sands blew, bleak and lifeless in the blistering summer heat. No life. Nowhere. No life at all. Nothing. No where. All life turned to ash. Powdery grey ash now floating, gloomy and lifeless in the breeze. All life in the desert vanished, save a small Elf wearing ultra pink Thullid silks and a black Unicorn. The dazed and confused Elf turned around and walked out of the desert. And walked clear across the planet, making his way back home to the Moon Elf village of the Deep North. Meanwhile, the Phooka gathered up what little remained of his army and trailed along behind the Elf. Years passed as the cherry blossom pink robed Wizard priest walked across the planet. And everywhere Quaraun went, rumours gathered of the Moon Elf wizard in Thullid clothes. And stories spread of the bodies he left behind in every village he visited. In the years it took for him to walk back home, he gained a reputation for being the single most feared being to ever exist. More feared than the Thullids, more feared than the Elf Eater himself. And yet, Quaraun was naught but a simple tailor, who wove pink silk and sold embroidered scarves. That the scarves possessed magic powers he¡¯d not intended them to have remained a fact Quaraun was clueless about. And that the Elf Eater followed behind him, slaughtering each village after Quaraun left, also remained unknown to the oblivious Thullid infested Elf. ~o0o~ Quaraun in his many decades living with the Di¡¯Jinn had taken to dressing like them, and now wore very elaborately bejewelled dresses in brilliant shades of pink. He stood out starkly against the silvery, blueish white snow covered landscape. His hair, likewise strayed from convention. Having never cut it in several decades, Quaraun¡¯s silvery white hair, now reached past his knees. Quaraun had only been a small child when the Moon Elves had sent him to live with the Thullid Wizards.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The squid headed alien mages ate Elves, and it was expected that they would eat Quaraun and the Moon Elves would be done with their troublesome little Elf. No one, save the King, had expected the Thullids to take the Elf in and treat him as one of their own, much less that they would train him in their dark magic arts and induct him into their elite wizarding society The Order of the Di¡¯Jinn. Upon realizing that Quaraun would never be eaten by the Thullids and that he was fast gaining a reputation as the most powerful Wizard of all time, the Moon Elves decided it was time to bring him back into their society and undo the damage of his having taken up wizardry. The Moon Elves shied away from magic arts, seeing them as a great evil. They saw Quaraun¡¯s fast rising fame as a black eye against their culture, for the world saw Quaraun as a representation of his people and his people saw him as a freak and a corruption of everything they held dear and sacred. They determined they could not allow him to go on this way and must turn him back into a good and proper Moon Elf before it was too late and he became too set in his ways. They had requested his return several times and were surprised when one day he actually showed up, unannounced. Quaraun was on his way home to the Valley of the Moon Elves in the far Deep North, after having lived so many decades with the Di¡¯Jinn. Quaraun had speech disorders, was plagued with phobias, and was shorter, smaller, and thinner than every other Moon Elf. Seen by the others as a retarded, weak, runt in frail health, he had spent his early childhood being bullied and teased horrendously by the other Moon Elves. It was why he had killed them. Quaraun for whatever reason, had no memory of having killed anyone, not the Moon Elf children who¡¯d bullied him, nor the Di¡¯Jinn who¡¯d raised him. He had also had time to forget what the villagers were like, how they had treated him. The villagers in turn, where not expecting to see the crown prince return as a transvestite dressed in shimmering almond blossom pink gowns, making him in their eyes, far more freakish than he had been when he left. The Moon Elves had other reasons for requesting Quaraun¡¯s return. Reasons which they had chosen not to tell him about, for fear he¡¯d remember how they¡¯d treated him and not help them. A thousand years ago or more, no one really knew the date, there had risen up a King. An evil, murderous, bloodthirsty, monster, who set out to killing every King across the globe. One by one the monstrous beast had slaughtered every King of the Realm of Fae, declaring himself King of all the Faeries. The creature was a bitter, angry Phooka. An evil trickster Faerie who thought there was nothing more delight-some than to watch his victims die horrible deaths at the expense of his often bloody, practical jokes. King Gwallmaiic hailed from Fire Mountain of Pepper Valley, and he had an insatiable lust for eating Elves, and thus he became known as The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. But after a thousand years of terror, the evil King vanished without a trace. Only to rise up again a few hundred years later as a Lich, unlike any Lich the world had ever known. He was not dead. No one could explain it. He was not fully a Lich and yet he had very Lich-like traits and powers. The horrors King Gwallmaiic had rained on Elven villages in his lifetime was nothing compared to the nightmares his reign of strange-near-undeath had brought. Millions of Elves fell in his wake and rumours said that he ate the flesh of every one of them. The Elves of the Deep North had long thought themselves safe from this monstrous terror. As the Elven races of the South became extinct, the Phookan King and his army of undead minions moved farther north. The aristocratic High Elves of the Deep North shuddered in terror. For the undead Phookan army marched ever closer to their snow-capped mountains. The Moon Elves hated their frail, transvestite prince. But, in his 70 year absence he had gained a reputation. A reputation as the most powerful and most deadly Wizard since the Elf Eater himself. Supposedly. Rumours said, that Quaraun, supposedly, was one of the few beings to ever meet a Lich face to face and live to tell the tale. Supposedly. Quaraun, also supposedly, had a skill for getting close to Liches and killing them. Supposedly. Permanently. Supposedly. Liches are immortal. Supposedly. They can not be killed. Supposedly. A Lich once killed, supposedly, will reawaken 100 years from its so-called death. Quaraun had killed the Di¡¯Jinn - the masters of making Liches. So people assumed that he must know how to kill a Lich. A difficult feat, as Liches were eternal beasts who could regenerate indefinitely. In truth, Quaraun had never killed a Lich. He had once met a Lich, but he had been unaware the Lich was a Lich. So, Quaraun had no knowledge of his having encountered said Lich. But, people will believe gossip, lies, slander, and rumours, long before they will believe the truth. No matter how many times Quaraun said he was not a Lich hunter and had never met or killed a Lich, people refused to believe otherwise. It was the hope of the Moon Elves, that by having Quaraun back in their village, he would kill the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Save all Elves everywhere. Or at least, save the only important Elves: The Moon Elves. ~o0o~ Chapter 5: The Road To Ivujivik ~o0o~ Quaraun¡¯s life was nowhere near perfect. After having run most of the past several months, he was glad to be back home. The problem was that he couldn¡¯t remember who he was running from or why. He had no memory of the events of his last few weeks with the Di¡¯Jinn and he didn¡¯t know why. Something horrible had happened, his mind kept telling him. But he couldn¡¯t remember what. He was running from something, that much he knew. He also knew someone was following him. Who and why, he did not know. Quaraun was still a few days out from the village. His stomach rumbled, reminding him how hungry he was, as he looked up and focused on the main road, trying to determine which way was North. The road was vacant of houses. No buildings of any kind. All he could see for miles were snow-covered fields and dense snow-laden pine forests. Pine forests. No. That¡¯s not right. There are no pine trees in the tundra. Quaraun had finally noticed the trees, but dim-witted that he was, the fact of the trees, still had not fully set in. It had been a while since he had last seen a house and several days since the last village. In places the snow was several feet deep, it was difficult travelling. In his years living in the desert, he had forgotten how cold and wet snow was. His wet silks stuck to his skin making it difficult to walk. And the further north he went, the deeper the snow got. The sun had sunk below the treeline and Quaraun knew he had to find somewhere to bed down soon, and try to find something to eat. He sat back down. He had a tent with him, in his bag of holding. A tent and bedroll. But he was just too cold to set them up. So cold. Why was it so cold? It shouldn¡¯t be this cold. This cold is unnatural. It¡¯s the cold of death. The cold of Liches. A Lich¡¯s frost. No. There were no Liches here. It would be too cold to travel once the sun had set. The frigid cold of the dead icy filled nights could kill any creature caught outside after dark. And so, Quaraun sat, in the snow, thinking these thoughts, staring at his cerise pink silk shoes, muttering how wet they were, and, not noticing that he was now surrounded by hundreds of acres of ancient pine trees in the treeless tundra, while the little black pony had morphed and changed, and was now a very evil looking sorcerer sitting on the back of a massive Friesian stallion. And from behind the trees, were appearing more and more ponies, each of them morphing into various undead creatures as The Elf Eater¡¯s Army completely surrounded Quaraun. As Quaraun pondered where to set up camp for the night, his thoughts were broken by a herd of horses, with Phookan and Dark Elf riders galloping past him. His long silver hair whipped around his face and shoulders along with the ice crystals and chunks of snow and Lich frost that was kicked up from the speeding hooves. Quaraun watched the evil army of the Elf Eater as they passed. They were not long gone before he heard them stop, on come riding back. The army was lead by a creature unlike anything Quaraun had ever seen before, simultaneously hideous yet exotically beautiful at the same time. The beast was monstrous, every inch of it covered in long shaggy matted black fur. On its hands were huge claws, sharp enough to lop off a man¡¯s head in a single swipe. Its teeth were fearsome, protruding like razors out of its mouth, and it had long gazelle-like horns on its head. A Phooka. Looking like Krampus. But not Krampus. Not here. In spite of the cold, this was too far South to be Krampus. Krampus rarely left his home in the deepest depths of the deepest Deep North. The creature rode on a black stallion, with a gleaming silver horn growing from its head, but as the creature approached, the horse and the beast both melted away, leaving behind only a small dark skinned man, now looking somewhat Human, and barely five feet tall, with a massive crowing glory of wild dreadlocks. The shape shifter had a wild grin on his face and a devilish gleam in his sparkling black eyes, as he slunk close to Quaraun, he licked the Elf¡¯s ear. ¡°Ah! My saviour! We meet again!¡± ¡°Again? Have we met before.¡± ¡°I was horse wid no name who wandered desert of Di¡¯Jinn un ya did save me. I am indebted to thee, oh pretty Elf.¡± ¡°I... I don¡¯t understand.¡± Quaraun could hardly think. The scent of the beast¡¯s breath, hair, and body was intoxicating. Molasses. Anise. Clove. Vanilla. Licorice. Horehound. Peppermint. Wormwood. Gingerbread. Cake. Honey. Sandalwood. Patchouli. Frankincense. Myrrh. Hashish. Opium. Poppies. It was like being in a candy shop, next to a bakery, beside an opium house. Quaraun wanted to melt away in the glorious delights of the creature¡¯s enticing fragrances. ¡°Ya be Quaraun, evil lil Moon Elf, murderer of de Di¡¯Jinn.¡± ¡°I have killed no one.¡± ¡°Ah. Aye. Ya secret be safe wid me. I shall tell no one what ya has done.¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°What do you want?¡± ¡°To touch ya.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like being touched.¡± ¡°Not just touch ya. Feel ya. Taste ya. Bed ya. Bite ya. Drink ya blood. See what it like. Yis strange beast.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a beast. I¡¯m an Elf.¡± ¡°Haha! Ya believes it, aye? Lovely. Yis perfect. Exactly what I needs.¡± ¡°Perfect for what?¡± ¡°Ya be so innocent, so sensual, so lustful, so sweet, yet so evil. Ya yin and yan meld toget¡¯er so fabulously.¡± ¡°My what?¡± ¡°Magic ya knows not of, but ya has. Good and evil exist in ya side by side. Pure grey. Not black. Not white. Chaos. Pure chaotic evil mixed with pure chaotic good. It sends shivers down me spine. The thought of it. I can feels it. Ya be destined for great t¡¯ings.¡± The Phooka reached out and touched Quaraun¡¯s face. ¡°Kill him and be done with it,¡± said a Dark Elf who now road up beside them. ¡°Back off Gibedon. Never interfere wid me work,¡± the Phooka growled, hissing like a wildcat. ¡°This ones special. This ones mine. This one I keep. My lil toy, for when yis not around.¡± ¡°Gibedon?¡± Quaraun asked. ¡°The Necromancer?¡± ¡°Aye, me apprentice, but de job be open for anot¡¯er iffy ya wants it. I will gladly pass it to yis. Ye far more powerful than Gibedon will ever be. And a thousand times more beautiful. Such a lovely Elf.¡± ¡°You are King Gwallmaiic.¡± ¡°Aye. I am.¡± The Phooka whispered seductively while it licked Quaraun¡¯s face. ¡°Ya wished for me.¡± ¡°Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.¡± ¡°Aye. Here to grant ya wee lil wish. Warm ya wee lil bed.¡± ¡°Murderer of millions.¡± ¡°Ya knows who I be yet ya be no afeared of me.¡± ¡°Should I be?¡± ¡°Yis an Elf. I eat Elves. Yis should be terrified.¡± ¡°I see nothing terrifying here.¡± ¡°I like dat.¡± ¡°Why would I be scared of you? You¡¯re nothing but a Faerie.¡± ¡°Ooooh. Got balls do we?¡± Gwallmaiic reached up Quaraun¡¯s legs and squeezed his scrotum as he said this. Quaraun yelped and pulled away from the evil wizard. Quaraun knew that he was facing the infamous black hearted King of the Faeries, himself, and were Quaraun any other Elf, he would have been trembling in fear, but Quaraun had a bad habit of being scared of things he had no reason to fear, and not fearing the things he should. ¡°I can rarely get dis close to ya.¡± ¡°Implying you¡¯ve been close to me before?¡± ¡°Mony times,¡± the Phooka breathed as he moved close to the Elf, getting up on his toes and kissed Quaraun¡¯s face. ¡°And so lovely ya be. Dis do be closest I has ever been to ya. I has wanted to touch ya for so mony years. Ya has never let me get dis close before.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you before.¡± The creature slid it¡¯s clawed fingers down Quaraun chest. ¡°Oh ya have. Ya just do¡¯na knows it. I be shape shifter.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a Phooka.¡± ¡°Aye. I be anyt¡¯ing. Anyone. Anything yis wanting. What does da Scared Pink JellyFish want? Whatever it is I will be it.¡± ¡°You want to be, what I want?¡± ¡°Aye.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I tell ya, already. I want to be close to ya. Yar power. Yis got a power I never done seen before. I can feel it. Wid training, ya¡¯ll be more powerful dan me. Ya does na know what ya be. But I do. I knows exactly what ya are. And I want it. I always get what I want. What do ye want?¡± ¡°Right now? Warmth and food. And a place to sleep. I¡¯m cold and hungry. And wet and tired. I forgot how cold and wet snow is. My hair is wet and my shoes are wet.¡± ¡°Shoes?¡± The Phooka stepped back and looked down at Quaraun¡¯s feet. ¡°Eh? Not quite dressed for de weather is we? Silly lil Elf. Yis worried about shoes. Eh? Take dem off and slide into bed wid me.¡± ¡°Bed?¡± Quaraun gasped when he felt Gwallmaiic forcefully shove his hand inside of Quaraun¡¯s kimono and wrap his sharp clawed fingers around Quaraun¡¯s flaccid cock. ¡°Yis always welcome in me bed. I will keep ya bonny arse warm. I has lots o way to warm up a pretty lil t¡¯ing like ye.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a male. As am I.¡± ¡°Does that matter? I can become female if you like? I can be anyone. Male or female. Whatever ya want. That I will be.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I already answered that.¡± ¡°But I don¡¯t understand your answer.¡± ¡°No? I lust for ya. As much as ya lust for me.¡± The Phooka was so close to Quaraun now, their bodies were touching. The warmth of the Phooka¡¯s body felt good. The air was so cold, and his body s warm. ¡°And ya lust for me quite a lot. Unlike anyone else ever has.¡± ¡°No, I don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Aye ya does. I has heard ya words. Ya wishes. Wishes in the desert. Wishes for the warm embrace of King Gwallmaiic.¡± The Phooka pushed Quaraun back against a tree, pressed tight against him, and kissed him. Quaraun made no move to resit, though, he was uncertain why. The Phooka pulled away from him and stared into the Elf¡¯s clear cornflower blue eyes. ¡°And yar lust for me now. That why I be here.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Ya does. Ya just scared to admit it. My lust has burned for you for 2,000 years.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not that old.¡± ¡°The skin ya wear, no, the Elf not that old. But the Thullid inside, is ancient. I has waited so long to meet ya. I try so often to reach you. Touch you. Kiss you. Love you. Fuck you like a whore.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know you.¡± ¡°No. But I want to change that. Make ya me lover.¡± ¡°You are a stranger. Why would I be your lover?¡± ¡°Have ya a reason why ya would not be?¡± ¡°The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley eats Elves and I¡¯m an Elf.¡± ¡°Well, there is that.¡± ¡°How would I know, your offer is nothing more than a trap, to kill me and eat me?¡± ¡°Because I does no want to eats ya. I wants to fuck ya.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not something I want.¡± ¡°Are ya sure?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Who do yis wants fucking ya than? I will be dem instead. I will be any. Who ever ye want. That I will be. Whatever it take to get in ya bed. But I t¡¯inking, this one does it for ya. Ya never let me get dis close before.¡± ¡°Have you been many?¡± ¡°I be mony. I try for years to get close to ya, but ya be skittish un run away, every time.¡± ¡°Are you going to kill me?¡± ¡°If I were gonna kills ya, I would already has done it.¡± Quaraun did not know why, but he felt no threat from the creature and so made no move to get away, as the little Faerie pressed its warm body close against him. Though Quaraun was a very short Elf, the Faerie was even shorter than he was and stood on the Elf¡¯s feet, then rose up on his toes to be eye level with the Elf. The Phooka was pushing his hard erection between the Elf¡¯s legs and it was arousing Quaraun, much more than he wanted to admit. Quaraun¡¯s eyes glazed with lust. His mind wandered, wanting to touch Gwallmaiic just as badly as Gwallmaiic wanted to touch him and his cock was already pressing against his thin silks. Gwallmaiic¡¯s hands gently slid down Quaraun¡¯s belly, gliding along his hips before squeezing and fondling one of his ass cheeks. Quaraun gasped. Cold air snagged in Quaraun¡¯s throat. He could not believe his good fortune, being groped by the very object of his darkest desires. Gwallmaiic continued to fondle Quaraun and Quaraun continued to do nothing and just let this happen. Quaraun closed his eyes and let the Phooka kiss his neck, while pressed his hips harder again Quaraun. His hand still gripping him, Gwallmaiic begin to stroke Quaraun¡¯s cock up and down along the shaft at a steady pace while his other hand went back to squeezing and massaging Quaraun¡¯s ass cheeks but this time from the inside Quaraun¡¯s dress, which at some point Gwallmaiic had lifted up without Quaraun noticing he¡¯d done it. ¡°This is...¡± ¡°Shh... sweet lil Elf, let me take care of ya.¡± Gingerly, Quaraun put his hands on the Phooka¡¯s chest and pushed him back a few inches. ¡°Please don¡¯t do that.¡± ¡°Why not? Ya likes it.¡± Quaraun did like it and he completely wanted to ignore that fact. He couldn¡¯t let himself enjoy Gwallmaiic¡¯s touch, because he also knew the stories. The Rumours. King Gwallmaiic had a reputation for seducing Elves, then raping them to death, eating their flesh, drinking their blood, and grinding their bones into flour to make drugged gingerbread. All the stories said so. It was why he was called The Elf Eater. ¡°How do you know me?¡± ¡°I has hunted ya for years. Could ne¡¯er catch ya. Then one dae I were wounded un ya saved me life.¡± ¡°I do not remember that.¡± ¡°And I will never forget it. Nor will I forget how ya saved what were left o me army.¡± ¡°Your army?¡± Quaraun looked around at the motley crew of various evil undead. Dark Fae. Dark Elves. Blood Elves. Beasts. Monsters. And undead creatures. Were gathering to watch what their leader would do to the young Moon Elf. ¡°I have never seen your army before.¡± ¡°Ya did. In de desert of de Di¡¯Jinn. Ya saw us. Ya fed us. And de Di¡¯Jinn unleashed deir terror upon us, ya unleashed ya terror upon dem. We be indebted to ya. We¡¯d all be dead now, were not for ya. Our hero. Our saviour. The Scared Pink JellyFish. Our Goddess. We worship her, so we worship you.¡± The Phooka bowed before Quaraun, then stood and clutched his talons around the Elf¡¯s throat. ¡°I don¡¯t know what your talking about.¡± ¡°Ya¡¯s an Elf after me own ¡®eart. Some dae ya will remember what ya did un when ya does, I¡¯ll be waiting for ya. Come Gibedon, we leave.¡± The Phooka let go of Quaraun and walked back to his horse. The mesmerizingly beautiful black haired, black eyed Phookan leader turned and whistled at Quaraun, then grasped his privates in a lewd gesture. ¡°Ya¡¯re a pretty one,¡± the Scottish hell beast said to Quaraun. ¡°I woulds love to fuck ya wee lil bahookie.¡± Quaraun swore at him in Thullid, with a disgusted grimace, which made the Phookan leader laugh. He blew Quaraun a kiss as they road away, and Quaraun hoped he¡¯d never see them again. No. That wasn¡¯t right. Quaraun desperately wanted to see him again. King Gwallmaiic. Quaraun had lusted after King Gwallmaiic for years. A deep dark secret, that Quaraun kept hidden away. He knew if anyone found out, he¡¯d be cast out of Elven society. So much was wrong with Quaraun¡¯s lust for King Gwallmaiic. They were both male for starters. Plus Gwallmaiic wasn¡¯t an Elf. And then there was the fact that King Gwallmaiic was evil. Plain and simple. A murderous, blood-thirsty villain. Quaraun shivered. The Phooka had been correct. Quaraun had wished many times to meet the evil Dark Lord, King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. For years. Decades. Quaraun had longed to meet him. And now that he had, Quaraun¡¯s raging desires for the evil Faerie King were stronger than ever before. Quaraun hated Faeries. Yes. He did. He told himself this over and over again, while wishing silently for the Phooka to return. Silently wishing to bed with the Phooka. No. Quaraun knew he must put such thoughts out of his head. No good ever came from associating with Faeries. Especially not Phookas. The worst Faeries of all. And this was no mere Phooka. This was King Gwallmaiic. The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Quaraun veered off the main road, into the forest to try to find a spot to set up his tent for the night. Quaraun wondered at seeing Phookas this far North. Phookas were southern beasts, normally inhabiting tropical cloud forests, jungles, and rain forests. Warm tropics were their home lands, not these frigid high altitude arctic mountain ranges. Quaraun also wondered at seeing trees this far North. There were no trees in the tundra, and yet, here they were. Acres and acres and acres of huge, massive trees. Quaraun lay down on his bedroll and fell asleep thinking about trees and polar bears and Phookas and Gwallmaiic and gingerbread scented dreadlocks. He drifted off into sleep dreaming about King Gwallmaiic and wishing he¡¯d let the Phooka finish what he¡¯d started. ~o0o~ Chapter 6: Nighttime on The Road To Ivujivik ~o0o~ That night, Quaraun woke to find himself being dragged from his bedroll. Loud cheers and taunts enveloped him as his clothes were ripped from his body. He fought his attackers, but they stripped him naked as they held him face down shoving his face into the snow. Someone forced his legs open and someone else knelt between his thighs. A rough, heavy hand was placed in the small of his back. A surge of wild untamed fear came over him and he fought harder with his assaulters. He was so busy trying to fight off the men holding his wrists and ankles that he neglected to notice the man standing over him until he straddled him. Quaraun screamed and yelled and thrashed and kicked, but none of this did any good as any one of the men holding him down was stronger than he was, so all of them together left him completely helpless. The Elf¡¯s scream hung in the cold night air when he was penetrated hard, by who he didn¡¯t know. His body went rigid and trembled with the pain and humiliation of his predicament. His rapist made no attempt to go easy on him. Quaraun screamed as he felt his rapist pump into his ass. ¡°Shhhh...¡± a familiar voice whispered into Quaraun¡¯s long pointed ear. It was King Gwallmaiic who was on top of him, raping him. The Phooka leaned forward, hugging Quaraun, pressing his chest against the Elf¡¯s back, and licking Quaraun ear with his long snake-like tongue as he spoke. ¡°I is not going to hurt, Quaraun. Relax. Let it happen. It¡¯ll be better for both of us if ya doe. Though I does na mind iffy ya don¡¯t. I like it rough. And I can makes it hurt a lot if ya fight me.¡± ¡°Let me go,¡± Quaraun whimpered. While Quaraun deeply lusted for The Elf Eater¡¯s touch, he was also terrified The Elf Eater would kill him when he got done raping him. ¡°No, no, no. Quiet. Shhhh. Tis alright. I¡¯ll not hurt ya. Relax. Yas a wish ya want fulfilled. I is here to grant ya wish. Shhhhh. Don¡¯t be frightened. It¡¯ll be over soon and ya¡¯ll be glad it happened.¡± There were too many of the King¡¯s men holding him down while the King raped him. With no choice but to wait until this was over Quaraun learned to take the Phooka¡¯s entire cock until he could feel the Faerie King¡¯s thick balls slapping against his butt cheeks. After a few minutes of agonizing pain, his body became used to this new sensation and it started to feel good. Really good. And that scared him even more. He didn¡¯t want to enjoy what was happening to him. The feeling of pain started to subside and Quaraun focused on how good another man¡¯s cock felt while it was deep in his ass. After a few moments Quaraun stopped struggling. Having anal sex with a complete stranger wasn¡¯t like him at all, in fact, Quaraun had never had sex with anyone at all, male or female. Quaraun was a virgin. Quaraun hated sex. He said so often. Quaraun was scared of sex. Quaraun was scared of a love of things. But sex was very high on his list of the most terrifying things on the planet. Yes. Quaraun kept a list of things that scared him. He started trying to think of what was on the list. He wanted to think of anything other than how much he was enjoying the fucking he was receiving. But he simply could not ignore how much he was enjoying this. Quaraun tried not to think about the fact that the creature assaulting him was known for raping Elves, moments before killing them and eating their flesh but the thought could not escape him as fear built up in the pit of his stomach. Quaraun knew better than to give in to this, he knew he should fight, he knew he would soon be slaughtered by this gang of violent criminals, but it felt too good to try to stop them. His mind¡¯s objection to this horribly risky scenario was being overruled by his body¡¯s craving for more cock up his ass. He held his ass high in the air letting the Phooka fuck him.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Seeing that the Elf had stopped putting up a fight, the Faerie King pushed his men aside, and now no one was holding the Quaraun down as the Phooka continued to ride him. Quaraun, it seemed, was a total anal slut, something he hadn¡¯t realized he would ever be. And the Phooka loved it. Both men cried out in pleasure as they enjoyed the sensations of one another¡¯s bodies. Quaraun gripped his hands to the ground and pushed back hard as Gwallmaiic fucked him. Quaraun gritted his teeth and moaned. He had never experienced anything like this before. He hadn¡¯t known he could. He knew he didn¡¯t like sex with females, but the thought that he could enjoy sex with another male had never crossed his mind. Quaraun could feel his own large balls slapping up against his body as Gwallmaiic drilled deeper and harder into his bowels. With another hard, deep thrust, the Phooka above him came down on all fours. He could feel the creature¡¯s warm seed flowing inside him. As another load of the Phooka¡¯s sperm filled his bowels, Quaraun found himself shaking. Quaraun was so close to cumming. His ass hole was wrecked from the harsh treatment and leaking cum and his orgasm that was building was turning into a painful blueballs. Quaraun needed to cum so badly, but what the Phooka did next, suddenly brought Quaraun back to his senses as he remembered who was doing this to him and the great danger he was in of being murdered the moment the Phooka finished fucking him. ¡°Ya likes dat pretty t¡¯ing.¡± The Elf Eater whispered in Quaraun¡¯s ear, then took hold of the Elf¡¯s pointed ear with his teeth, tearing his earrings out and drawing blood. Blood gushed from the wound, running down his neck and staining the snow red. The Phooka licked the blood off his neck, then began sucking more blood from the wound. ¡°Mmm... ya tastes sooo good, pretty Sugar Pie,¡± the Phooka laughed. Quaraun was shivering. ¡°Is ya cold or frightened? Or both? What scares ya more Quaraun? That I is a monster? Or that ya wished for this? Wishes grated. Pretty lil Elf. Is not wishes ya specialty? Ye should more careful what ya wish for, eh?¡± ¡°How do you get inside my head?¡± ¡°I told ya before. Ya no ordinary Elf. Yis a Thullid in Elf skin. And psion brain of yars is powerful. Powerful enough that I can feel yar desires for me. Ya wishes for me. Ya wanted me here in yar bed. Now here I am. Lusty lil Elf. Ye should be more careful with ya wishes.¡± ¡°Implying I should not like this?¡± ¡°Aye. But ya does. Eh?¡± The Phooka pulled the Elf¡¯s cloths back on his trembling body. This action confused Quaraun. He became even more confused, when the Phooka once again bit him, this time on the neck, again drawing blood. Terrified that the Elf Eater was about to eat him, Quaraun once again began to struggle against his attackers. ¡°Please let me go,¡± he cried out Quaraun struggled to get up, but the Phooka had a hugging grip on him and pushed him down to the ground.. ¡°Ya wants dis.¡± ¡°No!¡± Quaraun answered with a desperate scream. ¡°Ya knows ya do,¡± the Phooka answered. ¡°No! Stop!¡± Quaraun begged. ¡°Please.¡± ¡°I is no gonna hurt ya, Quaraun. I knows that what ya t¡¯inking. Ya did¡¯na start to fight me until I drew blood.¡± ¡°Please.¡± Tears were streaming down Quaraun¡¯s face. His heart was pounding hard in his chest. He felt dizzy. The world was spinning. The Phooka continued to molest and fondle him, but Quaraun¡¯s mind was reeling now. Terror had seized him and he was now far to scared to enjoy the sensations any longer. Quaraun began to scream and scream and scream. ¡°Oh, why yis so frightened?¡± Gwallmaiic put his hand on Quaraun¡¯s chest. He could feel the Elf¡¯s heart pounding uncontrollably. Gwallmaiic leaned back off the Elf. Quaraun was hyperventilating, his mind no longer registering what was going on around him. The Phooka lifted the Elf up into his arms and hugged him, rocking, trying to calm Quaraun back down out of the mindless fit of terror his was now in. Gwallmaiic had seen Quaraun kill the Di¡¯Jinn. He knew how dangerous this Elf really was. He knew how little control Quaraun had over his powers when he was upset or frightened. Gwallmaiic waved his hand and a lead crystal glass full of a bright emerald green liquid appeared in his hand. He held the glass to Quaraun¡¯s lips. ¡°Here. Drink dis. It¡¯ll help. Shhhhh. Tis okay. I will no hurt ya. Yis no need to be afeared f me. I am a friend. We are no enemies.¡± In spite of Quaraun¡¯s frantic flailing, the Phooka managed to get the Elf to drink the Absinthe. After a few moments Quaraun relaxed somewhat, as the wormwood infused wine lulled him into a calmer drugged state. The Phooka continued to hug Quaraun. ¡°Let me go,¡± the frightened Moon Elf wailed. ¡°Please let me go.¡± ¡°Shhhhh! Tis alright. Lay back down un I will fuck ya again.¡± ¡°No! No please! Please let me go. Please.¡± The Phooka kissed Quaraun¡¯s face. ¡°Do no be so frightened. I likes ya. I does no seek to harm ya. I wants ya to join me un me army. Ya has great potential. I can feels it. Ya be already a great Wizard, but ya lack training. I can help ya wid dat. And ya can be me lover un share me bed. Ya¡¯ll like dat, I can tell by how ya was acting just now whilst I was in ya. Ya a right a lil slut ya are.¡± Seeing that the Elf was struggling against their King, the men once again took hold of Quaraun. Loud voices yelled obscenities over him, and harsh hands griped at his wrists and legs. They hurt. Quaraun kicked them, not knowing who he had kicked. But someone else quickly grabbed his leg, restraining him again. With sudden strength, Quaraun pushed the Phooka off him. Someone let go of a leg, which he used to kick as hard as he could, dislodging the second person that held his other leg. He jerked his arm free, tuned and belted the person holding his wrist. Then Quaraun scrambled to his feet and ran. ¡°You fucking son of a bitch faced whore! He broke my frigging nose!¡± Quaraun heard behind him scream, but he didn¡¯t slow down or give it a second thought. ¡°Let him go,¡± Quaraun heard the Phookan leader say. ¡°I do no want him hurt. I found out what I wanted to knows. He can not control his powers. He is very dangerous. But we need him. I gots other plans for him. He needs training. Wildfire with no control - he¡¯ll kill us us with nothing but a wish.¡± ¡°Than we should kill him now, whil...¡± ¡°NO! I wants him alive. Yi will no touch him. None of ya. Not now. Not ever. Ya does na knows what he is.¡± ~o0o~ Chapter 7: Back At Ivujivik, After 75 Years Away ~o0o~ Quaraun made it back to his village without further incident, but when he arrived, his father was less than happy to see his son dressed in a dress and looking like a daughter instead of a son and immediately began arguing with him, and thus Quaraun never got a chance to mention his encounter with the Phookas or inform the village that the Elf Eater¡¯s army was travelling only two days outside from the village. Quaraun had forgotten how much contempt his father and the villagers had for him and quickly regretted coming back. Quaraun had intended to tell them that the Elf Eater¡¯s army was only hours outside the village, but Quaraun was a scattered brained Elf and forgot things easily when distracted or nervous. And he was more scared of his father than he had been the beast that had raped him. Outside the village, a pair of dark eyes watched as the others scolded, yelled at, and mercilessly teased to poor little Elf. Quaraun fled from the Moon Elves and ran crying to his old room at the top of the tower, locking himself in for several days. ¡°Poor Little Elf, so innocent, so pure, so easily corruptible,¡± the Phookan King said to himself. Gwallmaiic then turned to his followers. ¡°I will¡¯na be needing ya for a while. Go South, raid de other Elven villages, but do¡¯na touch dese Moon Elves, not yet, not till I says so.¡± ¡°What is your plan, sire?¡± asked the Dark Elf who stayed close to the King. ¡°I want him in me army.¡± ¡°The pink sissy?¡± ¡°Aye.¡± ¡°That Elf¡¯s no fighter.¡± ¡°I did no say he was." "Than why do you want him? "Dat dere, not be Elf.¡± ¡°He looks like an Elf.¡± ¡°I can looks like an Elf too.¡± Upon saying this the Phooka shifted and changed into the form of a Moon Elf. "You don''t intend to be an Elf?" "Aye. I most certainly do. If one is to get close to one''s prey, one must become de prey. T''inks like dem. Acts like dem. Blend in wid dem." "That pink robed Elf is clearly insane. Look at him." ¡°Judge not what lifes inside, by what de outside looks like, Have ya learned not¡¯ing from me Gibedon?¡± ¡°If that is not an Elf, then what is it?¡± ¡°Look at de clothes.¡± ¡°I am, he looks ridiculous. No self respecting Elf would parade around dressed like that.¡± ¡°Exactly me point. That not an Elf.¡± ¡°Then what is he?¡± ¡°Ya seen creatures dress like dat before.¡± ¡°Those squid headed monsters dress like that.¡± ¡°Mmmmm. And dat does no strike ya as odd?¡± ¡°The crown prince is eccentric.¡± ¡°The crown prince is eccentric,¡± the Phooka mocked the Dark Elf, than slapped him in the head. ¡°Unlike him, ya has brain Gibedon. Brains is useful t''ings. Be glad ya gots one." "Can one live without a brain?" "Dat one can. Thullids." "That is an Elf." "Dat be Thullid. An Elf who is no Elf, un has no brain. Ya gots a brain Gibedon. T''inks for yarself. How come for don¡¯t¡¯cha use it, before ya lose it de same way him gone un lost his? Why ya t''inks we stay in Di''Jinn desert for so long, eh?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not being clear, Sire.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Not being clear,¡± the Phooka muttered under his breath. ¡°It a good t¡¯ing yar good in bed un good at fighting for me, or I¡¯d¡¯ve eaten ya by now. Ya so damned stupid.¡± ¡°Forgive my ignorance, Sire, but I am only an Elf.¡± ¡°All Elves is stupid. Were dey smarter I¡¯d no be able to eat so many of dem. Him has¡¯na got any brains in him head un him smarter den ya bes. Where dids we just follow him from?¡± ¡°The forest.¡± The Phooka punched the Elf in the head. ¡°We just followed him half way around de world from de Desert of de Di¡¯Jinn ya dolt.¡± ¡°So?¡± ¡°So? Him were living wid Thullids. Ya ever seen a Thullid not kill an Elf?¡± ¡°Not unless it was a Spawnling waiting to hatch... aaah. I see. That¡¯s why he wears Thullid clothes. He¡¯s not an Elf.¡± ¡°Aye. That dere be a Thullid Spawnling, masquerading as an Elf. There ain¡¯t no brain in him head. Was eet up long time ago by dat pink Jellyfish dat living in dat hollowed out skull of his.¡± ¡°Thullids are dangerous. They can¡¯t be trusted.¡± ¡°They be more chaotic evil dan a Chaos Demon, aye. And dis one be unstable, but dere be rumours among de Thullid dat de Grand High Emperor of de Triple Planets has been implanted in a host body and walks among us. And wid de way de Di¡¯Jinn practically worshipped Quaraun, I does be guessing deir leader be living in de head of dat yon Elf.¡± ¡°You need more than a hunch.¡± ¡°I got more den a hunch. I saw what he did to de Di¡¯Jinn un I got a taste of his blood.¡± ¡°That¡¯s why you bit him?¡± ¡°Aye. That why I bit him. Dat Thullid blood him taste of. Not Elf. That is no Elf. The Elf him was, died lang time past. That dair be a Thullid wearing an Elf skin.¡± ¡°So? What do you want with a Thullid?¡± ¡°That be a Thullid and dere be a strong magic in dis one. As a Wizard, he be more powerful den Yis, Gibedon. I does no t¡¯inks he knows it. Him be raging volcano of destruction waiting to explode. And I want him on my side when he goes off.¡± ~o0o~ Quaraun''s days with the Moon Elves became very grim. Days turned into weeks and the bitterness between Quaraun and his father only grew with each passing day. ¡°Quaraun,¡± his father said one day. ¡°Do you not understand? We are the most noble of all races. Other races, look to us Elves for guidance and we, the Moon Elves, we are whom it is that other Elves seek guidance from. We are the protectors of all that is good in the world. It is our job to ensure that all the races of the world are on the path of righteousness. We protect the lesser beings from evil and guide them, by our example to the path of right. Is that so hard to understand?¡± ¡°No Father, your arrogance is never hard to understand. You are the greatest thing to walk the face of the earth and all life should worship you. It¡¯s all you ever talk about.¡± The old Elf slapped his son. ¡°How dare you talk back to me!¡± ¡°No one else does. I can¡¯t do anything right around here, I might as well do one more thing wrong.¡± ¡°Why do you persist in following the path of evil?¡± ¡°I am not evil, Father. Stop calling me evil!¡± ¡°No. Not yet. But you will be. You must repent. Stop this foolishness and repent. You are acting as loony as a common Wood Elf. Lower even. You are acting like a Human. No. Not even that high. You¡¯re acting as low and disgraceful as a Faerie. One would think you had Faerie blood the way you act.¡± ¡°I have done nothing wrong.¡± ¡°You have done EVERYTHING wrong. You have done nothing right. You are a perversion and a corruption of everything we Moon Elves stand for.¡± ¡°What have I done?¡± ¡°Look at you. Look at the way you are dressed. No self-respecting male Moon Elf would dress like this.¡± ¡°My clothes do not make me evil.¡± ¡°You are wearing Thullid robes. In Thullid colours.¡± ¡°I am a Wizard of the Di¡¯Jinn order. This is the way we dress.¡± ¡°The Di¡¯Jinn are evil. They practice dark magic.¡± ¡°Then why did you send me to live with them?¡± ¡°It was a mistake made by our King. They had healers among them. He thought they would heal you. I had high hopes they would eat you. Instead they corrupted you and turned you into this...this...THIS! Look at you. You disgrace us. You disgust me. You live like a Di¡¯Jinn. You dress like a Di¡¯Jinn. You act like a Di¡¯Jinn.¡± ¡°Raise a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not fall from it.¡± The old Elf slapped his son across face again. ¡°How dare you quote evil, vile, perverted Human philosophy?¡± ¡°The Humans are neither vile nor evil, Father.¡± ¡°How is it that you have fallen so far from the path of good?¡± ¡°It is you who has fallen, Father. You with your arrogance and haughty disdain for other beings. No one race is lesser or greater than any other.¡± ¡°How dare you speak such blasphemy?¡± ¡°It is not blasphemy to speak the truth.¡± In a fit of rage the old Elf fell upon his son, beating him with his fists. Quaraun lost his balance and fell to the ground, as his father in a fury began to kick the young Elf. The Moon Elf King sat on his throne and watched as his younger brother beat Quaraun. There were a dozen other Elves in the room as well. Members of the royal family, servants, and guards alike all stood and watched and did nothing to stop the hot tempered Elf from beating his son. They all knew of Quaraun¡¯s fail and failing health and how easy it would have been to kill the sick young Elf, but not one of them made any attempt to come to his aid, nor did any of them care to. The Moon Elves were the most self-righteous of all the Elven races. They knew they were the most important race on the Earth. There wasn¡¯t an Elf in the room that did not feel Quaraun words were blasphemy and that he fully deserved the treatment he was getting. Were the Moon Elves prone to show emotion, they would have been cheering the old Elf on as he pummelled his youngest offspring mercilessly. The old Elf beat Quaraun until he passed out. Even after Quaraun was unconscious, his father continued to beat him; and still the others did nothing but watch. This became a daily habit of the old Elf. Quaraun could have left the village. No one would have stopped him. No one wanted him there. No one but the King. But Quaraun was scared. Scared of his father. Scared of the villagers. But most scared of all, of being alone. The world was a big lonely place. ~o0o~ Chapter 8 Part 1 of 6: BoomFuzzy and The Gingerbread House That Fell From the Sky ~o0o~ Quaraun was sitting on the front steps of the palace. He was dressed in the traditional silvery misty blue garb typical of a male Moon Elf. He was also devoid of his make-up, and his mega-long silver hair. ¡°You¡¯re not wearing eye popping pink dresses today,¡± BeaLuna, the green skinned, pink haired Flower Gnome commented as she sat down beside him. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Golly! Did you cut your hair?¡± ¡°No. I did not.¡± ¡°Quaraun. Someone cut your hair.¡± ¡°Yes. I know.¡± ¡°Who?¡± ¡°My father.¡± ¡°Ah, he¡¯s having one of his fits again?¡± ¡°He burned all my pink dresses.¡± ¡°Wow! You must have really pissed him off this time. I¡¯m sorry. Why does he do these things to you?¡± ¡°He says I¡¯m disgracing the family. He says I¡¯m supposed to be his son, not his daughter. He wants me to give up wizardry and focus on other more important studies.¡± ¡°Well, I say he¡¯s just a big fat bully. Who isn¡¯t actually fat, but you know what I mean.¡± ¡°He wants me to focus on other studies. Says it will make me less stupid.¡± ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s gonna happen. You¡¯re pretty stupid.¡± Quaraun glared down at his tiny two foot tall friend. ¡°I don¡¯t like that word.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s true isn¡¯t it? You ARE an absolute total idiot.¡± ¡°It hurts. Half the village says I am too stupid to live.¡± ¡°Well you kind of are. Not like there¡¯s anything you can do about it.¡± ¡°He burned all my dresses.¡± ¡°Well you can make new dresses.¡± ¡°I know.¡± ¡°And your hair will grow back.¡± ¡°I wish he would drop dead.¡± ¡°No you don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Yes, I do. There¡¯s Phookas in the area, I wish he¡¯d be eaten.¡± ¡°Anything else he¡¯s got up his ass today?¡± ¡°He doesn¡¯t want me making clothes any more.¡± ¡°So making new dresses, not that easy.¡± ¡°He wants me spending more time with girls.¡± ¡°I¡¯m a girl. You spend time with me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a Gnome.¡± ¡°Are you being racist now?¡± ¡°No, my father is. He doesn¡¯t want me spending time with you either. He says I should be spending time with female Moon Elves and looking for a wife.¡± ¡°Looking for a wife? You!¡± BeaLuna burst out laughing at the thought of Quaraun with a wife. ¡°Really? Ha! Has he met you? You¡¯d run screaming from any female who wanted you.¡± ¡°He wants me married. Thinks it¡¯ll ¡®cure¡¯ me.¡± ¡°Cure you? What you mean of liking boys and wanting to be fucked like a girl?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a virgin, BeaLuna... I think.¡± ¡°You think? You don¡¯t know?¡± ¡°I was attacked on the way here.¡± ¡°Attacked? What do you mean attacked?¡± ¡°Phookas.¡± ¡°Phookas? Golly! You¡¯re lucky to be alive if you got attacked by Phookas. They eat Elves you know.¡± ¡°I know. I wish he¡¯d come here and eat all the villagers.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°They keep beating me up. My father works them into a frenzy. I don¡¯t like having to sleep in a chair because the bruises on my body don¡¯t let me lay down. Life would be so much easier if a Phooka would just eat them for me.¡± ¡°Well, if you got attacked by a Phooka, you¡¯re lucky you didn¡¯t get eaten yourself.¡± ¡°This one didn¡¯t want to eat me. He wanted to fuck me.¡± ¡°Fuck you?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°And you know that because...?¡± ¡°It¡¯s what he said. That and he had his men hold me down while he touched me and climbed on top of me...¡± ¡°Did he rape you?¡± "I... uhm... I''m not sure." "You''re not sure?" Quaraun thought about it or a moment, trying to decide if what happened was rape or not. He decided not to tell BeaLuna he had been raped, because he wasn¡¯t sure if he had actually been raped or not. He was confused. He had in fact wished to bed with King Gwallmaiic, mere moments before the Elf Eater had attacked him. And he didn¡¯t fight back from the sex part, he only fought back from the being bitten part. ¡°No. He let go of me when I put up a fight. He didn¡¯t try to stop me, he just let go. His men came after me but he called them back and let me escape. I¡¯m not sure why.¡± He decided it best not to mention the fact that the Phooka not only had fucked him, but that he had enjoyed it immensely and wanted to be fucked by the Phooka again. ¡°You know you¡¯re really lucky to be alive, Quaraun. Phookas aren¡¯t known for letting their victims go.¡± ¡°Strange... I¡¯m a male and so was he.¡± ¡°Well, you were wearing a dress.¡± ¡°No... not that. It¡¯s... part of me wishes he had...¡± ¡°Had what? Raped you? You wished to be raped?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± "Why?" "I don''t know." ¡°You wish a Phooka had raped you?¡± ¡°Yes.¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. "What is wrong with you?" "I don''t know." ¡°You get stranger every day, Quaraun. Why would you want that?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. I can¡¯t explain it. I¡¯ve never felt attracted to anyone before. And I felt very attracted to him.¡± ¡°So everyone is right, you do want to be fucked like a girl?¡± ¡°I... uhm... yes.¡± Yes?" ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Why? ¡°Father says my problems lay in the fact that I have taken a vow of celibacy. Other Elves my age are sowing wild oats and I should be doing the same thing.¡± ¡°Well you can fuck me and that¡¯d just blow his mind, you know because you¡¯d end up being the father of a half-Elf and he¡¯d just have a conniption over that, wouldn¡¯t he?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like talking about that stuff, BeaLuna.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve noticed. The whole town¡¯s kind of noticed.¡± ¡°Why does anyone in this town even care?¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s winter, the tourists are gone, and everyone who lives here is a busy-body, nosy assed, bastardly, white pricks with their heads stuck up their arrogant asses." "That''s no reason to bully someone." "Quaraun, bullies don''t need a reason. Bullies are cruel for the sake of being cruel. Bullies think it fun to watch others suffer." "It''s horrible to watch others suffer. Suffering is not fun." "Bullies don''t know that. Bullies are people who have never suffered a day in their lives so they don''t know how much it hurts." "I don''t like wearing blue. They beat me up because I want to wear pink. I don''t understand why." "They all conform to being exact duplicates of each other and you don¡¯t." "I don''t understand why they all want to be duplicates of each other. I can''t tell most of them apart from one another half the time. It''s ridiculous." "And they think you are just as ridiculous because you don''t try to look exactly like them. But, haven''t you noticed? You DO try to dress like the people who raised you? I mean look at the pink dresses you wear." "My father burned my dresses." "I know, but, Quaraun, think about it. You wore them to fit in with the Di''Jinn, right? Everyone wants to fit in with the group they are comfortable with. You fit in with the Di''Jinn. You don''t fit in with the Moon elves. It really is as simple as that. You should go back to live with the Di''Jinn. You don''t belong here. You ain''t like the other Moon Elves." "The Di''Jinn are dead. I can''t go back." "Yeah. You weren''t too clear on how they died either." "I can''t remember. I was in the desert with the ponies and when I got back to the temple, all the Di''Jinn were dead. I don''t know how they died. I would go back with them if they were still alive. I liked it there. They were mean sometimes, but not like this. Not like the Moon Elves are. I don''t like it here. I don''t understand why they treat me so bad." "You don¡¯t look like them, you don¡¯t dress like them, you dare to be different and it infuriates them to no end the fact that you refuse to be manipulated, controlled, intimidated or coerced into being a carbon copy of every one else in this town.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not bothering them, why are they bothering me?¡± ¡°I told you. They are busy-body, nosy assed, bastardly, white pricks with their heads stuck up their arrogant asses. Refusing to mind their own business, making trouble for people who are not bothering anyone else, that¡¯s sort of what busy-body, nosy assed, bastardly, white pricks with their heads stuck up their arrogant asses do. That¡¯s what makes them busy-body, nosy assed, bastardly, white pricks with their heads stuck up their arrogant asses.¡± ¡°So you don¡¯t like them?¡± ¡°Quaraun, they are busy-body, nosy assed, bastardly, white pricks with their heads stuck up their arrogant asses. Nobody likes them. Even they don¡¯t like themselves.¡± ¡°Why does my life matter to them?¡± ¡°It doesn''t. They''re jerks with nothing to do and they see you not conforming to their sense of what should be normal, so they''ve decided to focus all their pent up boredom energy on bullying you into being just like them, and you''re refusing to be just like them and they don''t know what to do about it because most people crack and conform if they are bullied enough and you are too stupid to crack or conform and they don''t know how to deal with it because no one has ever dared say no to them before.¡± ¡°I''m not bothering them. Why are they bothering me?¡± ¡°I told you. They are busy-body, nosy assed, bastardly, white pricks with their heads stuck up their arrogant asses. Refusing to mind their own business, making trouble for people who are not bothering anyone else, that¡¯s sort of what busy-body, nosy assed, bastardly, white pricks with their heads stuck up their arrogant asses do. That¡¯s what makes them busy-body, nosy assed, bastardly, white pricks with their heads stuck up their arrogant asses.¡± ¡°So you don¡¯t like them?¡± ¡°Quaraun, they are busy-body, nosy assed, bastardly, white pricks with their heads stuck up their arrogant asses. Nobody likes them. Even they don¡¯t like themselves.¡± ¡°Why does my life matter to them?¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t. They¡¯re jerks with nothing to do and they see you not conforming to their sense of what should be normal, so they¡¯ve decided to focus all their pent up boredom energy on bullying you into being just like them, and you¡¯re refusing to be just like them and they don¡¯t know what to do about it because most people crack and conform if they are bullied enough and you are too stupid to crack or conform and they don¡¯t know how to deal with it because no one has ever dared say no to them before.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not bothering them. Why are they bothering me?¡± ¡°Quaraun, you wear bubblegum pink, you look like a female, and you refuse to have sex.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t even like...¡± ¡°Sex?¡± ¡°Yes... at all.¡± He thought about King Gwallmaiic and added: ¡°With no one.¡± ¡°No one.¡± ¡°No one. Not even Phookas.¡± ¡°Not even? Are still thinking about that Phooka.¡± ¡°No. I¡¯m not.¡± ¡°You sure?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Positive.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to have sex with Phookas.¡± ¡°Uhm... yeah... I wasn¡¯t...¡± ¡°He wants me to have sex with my sisters!¡± ¡°Uhm. Okay. That came out of no where.¡± ¡°ALL OF THEM!¡± ¡°All of them?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t even know how many sisters I have.¡± ¡°There were about a dozen last I counted.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t count.¡± ¡°I know.¡± ¡°He cut my hair.¡± ¡°I can see that.¡± ¡°I DON¡¯T WANT TO HAVE SEX!¡± ¡°That¡¯s been coming in loud and clear. Have you not noticed that, that is what has your father so ticked off? The fact that you are the royal family¡¯s only male heir and you are absolutely refusing to fill the castle up with little baby Elves?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like females or making babies.¡± ¡°But you want a Phooka to fuck you up your ass, because you have weird rape fantasies about Faeries?¡± ¡°Why is everybody fascinated with my sex life?¡± ¡°Because you don¡¯t have one. At all. Why do you think? I mean I know Elves are suppose to repress their emotions, but they don¡¯t hide their obsession with sex.¡± ¡°I have no desire for sex. I don¡¯t like it.¡± ¡°Not even with Phookas?¡± ¡°I... uhm...¡± ¡°Yeah, that hesitation there doesn¡¯t bode well.¡± ¡°I HATE SEX!¡± ¡°I know. Everyone knows. I¡¯ve never seen an Elf like you before. They¡¯ve never seen an Elf like you before. They¡¯re scared of you Quaraun. Most male Elves are just dying to get in bed with something. Anything. Thus the prevalence of so many half-Elves these days. It was bad enough when you were just refusing to fuck anything, but now you¡¯re dressing like a girl.¡± ¡°They are the ceremonial robes worn by the Di¡¯Jinn.¡± ¡°Yeah, Elves don¡¯t join Thullid religions and become priests that worship pink jellyfish, either.¡± ¡°There is nothing wrong with my religion.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t say there was. I mean if you want to worshipping an invisible pink unicorn, go right ahead. I don¡¯t care. But they do. You¡¯re next in line to be king. They are scared you¡¯ll make them all worshipping sea slugs with you.¡± ¡°JellyFish.¡± ¡°Yeah. Flying spaghetti monsters. Who cares? It¡¯s not an Elven religion, Quaraun. It pisses them off that you are an Elf and you worship a non-Elf god.¡± ¡°It shouldn¡¯t matter to them what I do.¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re right, it shouldn¡¯t, but they are jerks, so it does. They haven¡¯t got enough brains to know to mind their own business.¡± ¡°I want them to leave me alone.¡± ¡°Your father¡¯s terrified you¡¯re gonna start letting other Elves fuck you like a girl.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like sex. I have no desire for sex at all.¡± ¡°Except with Phookas.¡± ¡°Yes, except with Phookas... NO! Will you stop that!¡± ¡°You dress like a female prostitute.¡± ¡°No I don¡¯t.¡± ¡°You look like a girl.¡± ¡°I was born looking like this. I have no control over what I look like.¡± ¡°In fact, girls don¡¯t even dress like you. Quaraun. I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re dressed like, because girls aren¡¯t even as girly as you are. Do you have any idea...¡± Quaraun tried to continue to listen to the Gnome¡¯s words, but his pink jelly brain drifted off in thoughts of how much he disliked his father, his uncle, and the rest of the Moon Elf race. He hated them all, and he wanted to be fucked by a Phooka. No. Wait. No. Where¡¯d that thought come from? No. Hating Moon Elves. Yes. That¡¯s what he wanted to think about. Not Faerie kings with giant black cocks and huge dreadlocks. Quaraun had been born small, weak, and sickly. No one had expected him to live. In his early toddler years it quickly became apparent that in addition to his frail health, there was also something mentally wrong with him. The young Elfling rarely spoke or made any sounds at all, sitting quiet for hours, staring at the wall as though watching a play. He spent hours lining up objects and sorting everything by colour. For a while, his parents thought the child was deaf, dumb, and mute, but he on occasion spoke indicating this was not the case. Healers were baffled to find anything truly wrong with the lad and eventually declared him to be an idiot. The royal family bemoaned the curse which had placed a stupid Elf in their kin. It was bad enough for an idiot to be born into the village at all, but to be born into the royal family? It was unheard of. The problem was made worse when, at around 3 years old, shortly after the village had been attacked by Thullids, Quaraun was displaying many non-Elf habits. Had he not looked every bit like a Moon Elf, based only on his actions and habits, anyone would have sworn he was a Faerie. The whole thing was made worse by the fact that he was only four years old when he started wearing rose petal pink dresses and saying he¡¯d rather be a girl than a boy. No one knew the young male Elf was dead and a female Thullid was living in his skull, animating his life like a corpse. A Thullid spawnling, walking among the Elves. Looking like an Elf, but not exactly acting like an Elf. The royal family had remained pure blooded Moon Elves for centuries. Chapter 8 Part 2 of 6: BoomFuzzy and The Gingerbread House That Fell From the Sky No one had ever dared taint the bloodline. The royal family prided itself on never having produced a half-Elf. And yet here was Quaraun, white as a Moon Elf, all the physical features of a Moon Elf, but he was very small like a Faerie. The other Moon Elves were similar in height to Humans, yet Quaraun was a head shorter than the shortest of them. Barely over 5 feet tall, Quaraun was only the size of a Faerie. He was very thin like a Faerie as well. They feared and dreaded Fae blood corrupting their purity. But had they known a Thullid had invaded their village, their terror would have been far greater. While Elves looked frail, they had great strength for their size, but Quaraun did not. He was just as frail and weak as he looked. Quaraun¡¯s love of glitter drove the royal family mad. For, his obsessively encrusting everything with gems, left the young Elf blinding the other Elves with his shimmering reflectiveness. This was another distinctly non-Elven and very Fae habit. Some wondered if he didn¡¯t have Gnome or Dwarf blood, what with the way he sewed gemstones and diamonds on everything he wore. Furthermore, there was his skill at magic. To the Human mind, all Elves had unusual capabilities, of course. But nothing like the powers Quaraun possessed. Each Elf had a link to nature. Indeed, the High Elves were the guardians of the environment. They kept the order of life and death in harmony. Without them the ecosystem of the planet would collapse in of itself. In fact, this was exactly the problem. It was why the Diontites had stepped in. Why they had arrived from a galaxy beyond this one. Why Gremlin was constantly moving forward and backward through time, trying to undo the damage. In the year 2525, the world would die. Imploding in on itself, after the Moon crumbled and fell apart. All because the Moon Elves stopped doing what they were supposed to be doing: Keeping the moon¡¯s gravitational pull in check. But the Diontites in all their wisdom, did not know this. They did not understand how the magical powers of Elves functioned. And so, they incorrectly blamed Quaraun for the destruction of the planet. For the Battle of Ongadada. Had the Diontites understood how Elven magic worked, they would have known stopping the Battle of Ongadada, was NOT the event they needed to change. They needed to keep the Moon Elves alive. They needed to keep the Moon Elves alive. They needed to set the Moon Elves back on their true path of protecting the Earth¡¯s oceans from the Moon. But now, none of this mattered. It was the year 800 A.D. The year 2525 was a long ways away. And right now, the Moon Elves were too busy glorifying their own beauty, to pay attention to the Moon that inched slowly closer to the Earth. High Elves filled the world with flowers. They woke up the trees each Spring. Through laying on of hands, an Elf could instantly restore dead brown grass, to its lush, green beauty once again. Before the High Elves had gone insane, they had once carried the names matching of their dominant skills. Moon Elves shifted tides with the moon. Thus they limited storms from growing out of control. Snow Elves blanketed the world with snow. Wood Elves, healed the trees. In this manner, these guardians of nature kept the world in balance. Additionally, Elves acted as healers, keeping the birds and animals healthy. They took care of sick and injured plants, birds, and beasts. These were the normal everyday powers of the High Elves. But, as there became fewer Elves in the world, natural disasters became more common. And the Moon Elves had lost their way. So many years of putting self importance, vanity, and perfection of self beauty over all else had led to the Moon elves, no longer taking care of nature. Locked in their own insane asylum of their hive mind, they congratulated each other on their endless beauty and forgot to temper the gravity pull of the moon. Around the world tides grew too high, storms lasted too long, winters too cold, summers too hot. And then was born an Elf, who loved roses. A Moon Elf who, took care of flowers, as did the Moon Elves of olde. A Moon Elf who, nursed back to health injured birds, the way his ancestors had done. A Moon Elf who, laughed. A Moon Elf who, cried. A Moon Elf who, smiled. A Moon Elf who did the things Elves used to do, centuries ago, before the Moon Elves went mad. A Moon Elf who did things other Moon Elves had forgotten were the things Moon Elves used to do. A Moon Elf who, was as Moon Elves were supposed to be. Quaraun did the normal things, Moon Elves were supposed to do. The things Moon Elves used to do. For it was not Quaraun who was different. It was they whom had long ago gone insane. So insane, where the Moon Elves, for so many centuries, that when a normal Elf was born, they did not know what to do with him. Thus they lashed out at him with bitter vengeance. Unaware that they had lost their true powers over time, they were scared of the boy, who had the powers, their ancestors once possessed. Quaraun did normal Elf things. But, he could do more. He moved things with his mind, and he commanded the weather, not just controlling it, but causing it. On many occasions, when Quaraun got angry, the Elf he was mad at instantly died by a lightening bolt striking them. He¡¯d ordered the ocean to rise up as tidal waves to crush villages. But, he¡¯d done these things as a small child, 3 years old. So, he didn¡¯t remember that he had done these things. But the other Moon Elf clansmen remembered. Because of this, they were frightened. This was a power seen only in Dark Fae, Demons, and Thullids. The Moon Elves thought Quaraun was not only part Faerie, but he was part Dark Fae. Dark Fae were the evillest creature to exist, by Elven standards. Perhaps the most maddening thing of all was his emotions. Quaraun often laughed, sometimes cried. So long as he laughed, he must be punished. He smiled. Elves did not smile. Unlike other Elves, Quaraun smiled. Elves had no need to smile. The hive mind conveyed each other¡¯s emotions instantly to everyone else. Outward emotions unneeded. For this reason, smiling was evil. Moreover, smiling was something Humans and Faeries did. Not Elves. And trying to break him of these habits, meant that Quaraun had spent much of his early childhood shackled to a dungeon wall with a chain lashing his back. To teach him not to cry out when in pain. To teach him not to shed tears. Beat him. Until he stopped crying. But beating him, made him cry more. The more he cried, the more terrified they became. As long as he continued to show outward emotions, they continued to torment him. For fear that he would destroy them all with only his mind, they continued to torture him. For the purpose of protecting their village, they beat him. Without mercy. With much contempt. Laughing or smiling resulted in his being locked in an iron maiden.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. When they grew tired of beating him, they would lock him in a room. After all, what else was one to do with a naughty child? Abandon it? Yes. Beat it? Yes. Abuse it? Yes. Obviously the best way to teach a naughty child was to terrorize it into submission. Without delay, off to the room. That room. A horrible, horrible room. That horrible, terrible room. A room filled with rats. Lots of rats. So many rats. Rats everywhere. Rats. They bit him. Rats. Gnawed on his hand. Rats. Chewed on his feet. Rats. He was too busy fighting them off to sleep. Alone for days without food or water. No blankets for warmth. Nothing soft to lay on. A floor of sharp, jagged ledge. The rank smell of mould. The constant scolding and chiding from the hive mind was deafening, maddening. Quaraun could hear every thought in every head of every other Moon Elf. Just as they all could each hear each other¡¯s thoughts. Except Quaraun. He was a Thullid. A Thullid could connect to the Elven Hive Mind, but an Elf could not connect to the Thullid Hive Mind. And so Quaraun could hear their thoughts. They could not hear Quaraun¡¯s thoughts. The hive mind did not connect both ways for Quaraun. He could hear them. They couldn¡¯t hear him. He could feel them. They couldn¡¯t feel him. For this reason they feared him. For this reason they loathed him. For this reason they conspired against him. All they taught him was that he was alone, unwanted, and unloved. ¡°We have to break that Faerie spirit and make an Elf of you,¡± his father said between lashes of the whip. Quaraun¡¯s father was cruel in his torture of the poor boy, and finally, Quaraun broke and stopped showing emotion, just to avoid being punished for doing so. Thus Quaraun became sullen and depressed, while still only a small child. And worst of all, Quaraun possessed the gift of Faerie Sight. He could see into the Realm of Fae. This was the thing which pissed off his father the most, for a rare few were Faerie Sighted and it was said that the only way one could possess Faerie Sight was to have Faerie blood. This was proof, positive in the Moon Elves¡¯ minds that Quaraun was only a half-Elf. This also meant he was not truly royal blood, for his father had to have been a Faerie and not the King¡¯s younger brother. Faeries existed alongside other races, but for the most part they were invisible. Faeries were rarely seen, usually only coming out at night and rarely setting foot outside of a forest. It was possible that Quaraun¡¯s mother had spoken the truth about being faithful, for the Faeries had a nasty habit of shape-shifting to take the form of a lover. It was very probable that the Moon Elf had never slept with a male other than her husband and still produced a half-Elf. A Faerie could easily have taken the form of her husband, bedded with her, sired a half-Fae child and the young mother never know the man in her bed was not her husband, but a Faerie instead. This was the lie the Moon Elves told strangers when anyone asked what had happened to Quaraun¡¯s mother. How did she die? Why did her husband kill her? Why was he allowed to get away with murder? That Quaraun wasn¡¯t an Elf any more, but was now little more than a husk infested by a Thullid that had long ago hollowed out his skull and attached itself in place of his brain, was a secret the Royal Family did not want anyone to know. The story that he was a half-Fae was more bearable. Male Faeries taking non-Fae women in this manner had become a common occurrence in the past few centuries. No one knew for certain what had happened, but rumours told of a plague that had wiped out nearly every female Faerie, resulting in the males out of necessity, secretly bedding with non-Fae females in order that the Fae race not fade into extinction. The Moon Elf Prince knew he could not have fathered such a corruption and publicly blamed Quaraun¡¯s existence on the infidelity of his wife. She claimed that she had not been unfaithful, and he was Quaraun¡¯s father, but he would hear nothing of her innocence and when Quaraun was still a small child, the hot tempered prince had beaten his wife to death. Quaraun had witnessed the horrible event. The young Elfling, barely old enough to walk, watched helplessly as his father beat his mother to death. In his childhood, Quaraun was daily beaten and pushed around by his father. However, Quaraun was the old Elf¡¯s only son. Daughters he had countless numbers of, but Quaraun alone was his only male offspring. The King likewise had no male children, and this meant that Quaraun stood to inherit the kingdom should both his father and uncle die. It also meant that in spite of how much they despised the poor idiotic, fool, both the King and his younger brother sought to make a King out of Quaraun to prepare him for taking over for them one day. Unfortunately for both of them, Quaraun was much more interested in being a princess then being a prince and no one in the village was even been aware the royal family had a male offspring as no one had ever seen Quaraun not wearing the garb of a she-Elf before, not until today that is. Quaraun listened to BeaLuna yapping about sex and thought about how his father and uncle were both demanding he at least find a sex partner until he found a wife. It disturbed him greatly, that people were so interested in his sex life or rather his lack of a sex life. Quaraun not once in his young life had ever had anything close to a sexual thought about anyone. The order of the Di¡¯Jinn and their vow of celibacy, suited the young Elf well, for he had no intention of ever forming a sexual relationship with anyone. BeaLuna¡¯s talk of sex made Quaraun very uncomfortable, for Quaraun not only had no interest in having sex, but he found the very idea of sex to be utterly and completely repulsive. Thullids were asexual. Quaraun wasn¡¯t an Elf, he was a Thullid. It was said by other Wizards, that it was by his virtue of complete non-interest in sex that Quaraun came by his vast magical powers. While BeaLuna, along with most every Moon Elf in the village, teased Quaraun and made fun of his aversion to sex, few realized that he truly, positively hated sex. They thought he was joking to cover up the fact he preferred males to females, but Quaraun never joked and never lied. He spoke only in facts, truth, and logic and had no mental ability to comprehend that BeaLuna and the Moon Elf villagers where joking around and having fun. All Quaraun knew was that they were being mean to him and while he made no outward sign of emotion, their words did deeply hurt his feelings. He very much wanted a friend he could talk to, one that wouldn¡¯t tease him or laugh at him. Quaraun, with his baby pink dresses, garish make-up, mega long hair, small stature, and frail dainty ways had been labelled as a fop. Foppery was illegal, punishable by life in prison if one openly admitted to being a male who preferred males, or execution if one was a male caught in the act of sex with another male. Because the laws against males with males was so severe, all the other Moon Elves, assumed that Quaraun preferred males and had taken a vow of celibacy to avoid punishment and to have an excuse for his not keeping time with females. The truth was that Quaraun was not attracted to anyone, not male nor female. Thullids were asexual. Quaraun wasn¡¯t an Elf, he was a Thullid. He simply had no interest in sex at all, and it bothered him greatly that no one believed him when he said as much. But then there was King Gwallmaiic. Because Quaraun was a Thullid and not an Elf, he had no use for emotions and physical sensations. It never occurred to him that there were reasons for sex beyond reproduction. The thought that anyone would want sex simply for the sensual pleasure of sex had never crossed his mind. Like High Elves, Thullids thought of themselves as above other races, and they based this on their having evolved to an asexual existence. The Jelly Thullids like the one in Quaraun¡¯s head were both male and female and at the same time neither male nor female and when they decided to reproduce, the matter was as simply as breaking off a tentacle and allowing it to swim free and grew into a whole new Jellyfish. So for Quaraun to have to put up with the Moon Elves and their obsession with their inferior means of reproduction, bored him immensely. However, Quaraun was a Thullid trapped in an Elf¡¯s body and the Elf body was still subject to weaknesses of the flesh. The Di¡¯Jinn had been careful to guard Quaraun from anything to do with sex at all, thus raising him the purest, most innocent, virginal Elf to have ever existed. It was why they killed the herd of black horses, for they knew what they were. Unicorns. Unicorns were mystically attacked to virgins and would stop at nothing to get a hold of the virgin. And while some Unicorns protected virgins, there were others, whose only thought in life was the rape virgins. These horny horned horses were known as Phookas. The Di¡¯Jinn had known the danger their little Moon Elf was in, when the herds of black ponies, lead by the Phooka began gathering at their door. And so Quaraun, a Thullid trapped in an Elf¡¯s body, without his Di¡¯Jinn advisers to steer him away from the evil Unicorn that was stalking him, had fallen victim to the Phooka¡¯s lust for bedding with a virgin. And now the poor Thullid Elf was more confused than ever. He knew a male could not reproduce with a male, so he could not understand why the Phooka had raped him. He also couldn¡¯t understand why he had enjoyed it so much. No one had ever told him the pleasures of sex and he wanted more than anything to feel the Phookan Unicorn inside of him again. These were the thoughts going through his Jelly brain as the Gnome sat beside him talking of other things. Quaraun tolerated BeaLuna¡¯s company, only because she was the only person in the village who tolerated his. Few people in the village really knew Quaraun. He had never left the palace during his childhood and he¡¯d only been a small youth when his father had sent him to live with the Di¡¯Jinn. Secretly his father, hoped Quaraun of being a half-Elf and not a Thullid. For he had hoped the Di¡¯Jinn would kill the young Elf so he could be rid of him. Instead the Di¡¯Jinn had seen Quaraun as an Elf of great promise. Quaraun lacked the arrogant hatred of non-Elves. More importantly, Quaraun was a Thullid who could pass for an Elf. This made him valuable to the Thullid. And because of his shy, non-social habits, Quaraun had proven himself to be well suited to book learning. And so it had come to pass that a Thullid who live among the Di¡¯Jinn, ZooLock, had taken the young Moon Elf in as his apprentice. ZooLock taught Quaraun all there was to know of the Di¡¯Jinn order. The Di¡¯Jinn ways. The Di''Jinn religion. The Di''Jinn culture. And the Di¡¯Jinn magic. The worst part of all was the other rumour. Quaraun¡¯s mother - people said her husband had killed her for her unfaithfulness, for her having given birth to a half Fae. It was what the villagers told strangers when strangers in town asked why Quaraun was isolated and excluded for social activities with the rest of the community, but it wasn¡¯t the truth. They all knew the truth behind the lie they told to the world...the real reason the boy had been sent to live with the Di¡¯Jinn. Quaraun had lived with the Di¡¯Jinn for nigh on 30 years, before returning home to the Moon Elf village. He returned wearing the bright pink robes typical of Thullid Wizards. The Thullid were an androgynous race of squid-like amphibious humanoids. Their culture had transcended the need for sexual reproduction centuries ago and thus Quaraun had come to be raised in a culture where sex simply did not exist. This deeply annoyed the Moon Elf King for Quaraun was heir to the throne and if the royal family was to continue, it was, the King said, Quaraun¡¯s responsibility to marry a she-Elf and sire as many Moon Elf children as absolutely possible. The problem now was that Quaraun had spent most of his young life with the Di¡¯Jinn and had joined their order becoming a Di¡¯Jinn Wizard himself and thus had taken a vow of celibacy and had no interest in ever taking a wife, siring children or even taking over the Moon Elf Kingdom was something he had no interest in doing. Quaraun had only been back in the Moon Elf village a few months and already his presence had disrupted the Moon Elf¡¯s quiet reclusive way of life, as travelling Wizards from all points of the globe were continually coming to the Moon Elf village to request¡¯s Quaraun¡¯s services. Though only a very young Elf, barely 75 years of age, and only the equivalent of a 15-year-old boy, were he a Human, he was revered as a wise old sage, by other races. The long lifespan of an Elf made even a young Elf seem wise and old in the eyes of the shorter lived races. But in the eyes of other Elves, Quaraun was but a foolish young boy. The other Elves saw Quaraun as a child and he would not be old enough for them to classify him as an adult for another 40 or 50 years. When Wizards of other races began showing up in the village, seeking out Quaraun¡¯s additive and services, it infuriated the older, wiser Moon Elves who saw Quaraun as not but a stupid child. While living with the Di¡¯Jinn Quaraun had built up for himself a reputation for¡¯ his skill and craftsmanship in making small containers which were much larger on the inside and embedded with powerful spells to contain anything, even a Lich. A Lich had attacked the Di¡¯Jinn and Quaraun with very little effort, Quaraun had captured it and contained it in a tiny bottle. From that day forth Wizards of all races, species, schools, and guilds sought out the young Moon Elf to hire him to make more of these bottles, boxes, and bags. Quaraun had become very famous in only a few short months and it was for that reason the King had sent for him, requesting his return to the village. The Moon Elves saw what Quaraun did as blasphemy against his clan and culture. Wizards were not well liked among the Moon Elves and for a Moon Elf to become a Wizard was seen as mutiny against his people. Had it been any other Moon Elf, Quaraun would have been banished, shunned, no longer considered a part of his clan, possibly even executed. But this was the King¡¯s nephew, the only male heir of the royal family and the King had decided it was time for Quaraun to come home, cast aside his foolish ¡°hobby¡± of wizardry and learn to be the next King. Chapter 8 Part 3 of 6: BoomFuzzy and The Gingerbread House That Fell From the Sky While Quaraun had returned, he proved stubborn and rebellious, at least according to his father; refusing to give up his wizardry career, refusing to take a Moon Elf wife, refusing he wear the traditional pale silver-blue garb of the Moon Elves, refusing to give up his friendships with non-Elves, and refusing to cut his ridiculously long hair which reached past his knees and was only a few years from touching the ground. It was his refusal to do these things which had lead to his father beating him unconscious and then while the poor Elf lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood, cutting off his long silver hair. Quaraun was infuriated over his father¡¯s actions and while BeaLuna continued to ramble on her jokes about sex, Quaraun sat lost in his thoughts of how much he¡¯d like to kill his father, with a few fleeting thoughts about eating his father and wondering if an Elf had ever eaten another Elf before and what Elf flesh might taste like. ¡°Are you listening to me?¡± BeaLuna yelled, bringing the Thullid-Elf out of his squishy thoughts of murder. ¡°QUARAUN!¡± ¡°What?¡± Quaraun blinked and stared at her for a moment. He had forgotten where he was. ¡°I said are you listening to me?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°No?¡± ¡°No. I wasn¡¯t.¡± ¡°You weren¡¯t listening to me?¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t hear a word I said?¡± ¡°No. I didn¡¯t hear a word you said.¡± ¡°Well, at least you''re stupid enough to admit it." "Why does that make me stupid?" "Not many Moon Elves who will admit to anything." "Than is it not they who are stupid?" "Nah. They don''t see it that way. Too busy being haughty and better then everyone else. An entire village of people with silver spoons rammed up their asses. How did the Moon Elves get so arrogant? Other Elves aren''t half as arrogant as you Moon Elves are...." ¡°I¡¯m not an Elf.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not an Elf.¡± ¡°I heard what you said. Can¡¯t figure out why you said it.¡± ¡°My father murdered my mother.¡± ¡°Everyone knows that.¡± ¡°And he got away with it.¡± ¡°Yep. Everyone knows that too.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not an Elf. That¡¯s why he killed her.¡± ¡°Yeah, well, I don¡¯t really think he has much ground to stand on there. There was no evidence that your mother was ever unfaithful to him and there¡¯s no evidence that you are a half Elf either.¡± ¡°But I¡¯m not an Elf at all.¡± ¡°Quaraun, you are Moon Elf. One look at you says that. You¡¯re a strange Moon Elf, but you¡¯re most certainly a Moon Elf. You glow in the moonlight and everything, just like your supposed to.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°What don¡¯t I understand?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a Di¡¯Jinn.¡± ¡°Yeah, well, you lived with them too long and they messed with your head and now you got these muddled up ideas about what you are and aren¡¯t.¡± ¡°They messed with my head. Yeah. That¡¯s the problem.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I said.¡± ¡°No. You don¡¯t understand. The Elf is dead. I¡¯m not an Elf any more. I can¡¯t marry she-Elf...¡± ¡°You could marry me, I¡¯ll let you be anything thing you want to be, dress any way you want. I don¡¯t care if you want to be a girl. Don¡¯t bother me none.¡± ¡°If I married you, he¡¯d have you executed. Can¡¯t taint the bloodline, we¡¯re all incestuous, inbred pure bloods you know.¡± ¡°Wow. The thoughts you got in my head now. You know you¡¯re like two feet taller than me right, even if you are shorter than every other Elf in the village. I¡¯m only two feet tall here. Would he really think you could have sex with me if you married me? I mean there aren¡¯t many half-Elf/half-Gnomes running around for a reason. Even a small Elf like you ain¡¯t gonna fit his ding-dong inside of a Gnome¡¯s hoo-hoo. I¡¯m sorry, but your father thinks stuff like that he¡¯s crazy.¡± Quaraun stared at the Gnome. ¡°What? it¡¯s true.¡± ¡°You use strange words.¡± ¡°Like what?¡± ¡°Ding-dong and hoo-hoo?¡± ¡°Would you rather I said penis and vagina?¡± ¡°Could you not talk like that?¡± ¡°Like what?¡± ¡°That... that.¡± ¡°What? You mean about sex?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t even say it, can you?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a topic I like.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not comfortable with the idea of it.¡± ¡°You a gonna be a virgin your whole aren¡¯t you?¡± Quaraun did not answer her. He didn¡¯t think he was a virgin any more. But he wasn¡¯t sure. ¡°You are, aren¡¯t you? See, that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about. And your father has peanuts for brains if he thinks YOUR ever gonna get married.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t plan to ever get married. I don¡¯t want to get married. I have no reason to have a wife. I have no desire to have a wife. I don¡¯t want a wife. I want... I... ¡° No. He could say what he wanted. He wanted King Gwallmaiic. ¡°Are you scared of sex? I know you¡¯re scared of everything else under the sun, you know milk, snow, sun, rain, day, night, you might as well be scared of sex too. I mean, don¡¯t want to leave there to be one thing on the planet you ain¡¯t scared of right?¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°I should go live on a mountain and become a hermit monk.¡± ¡°Who passes for a woman? Wouldn¡¯t that make you a hermit nun?¡± ¡°I¡¯d be good at that.¡± ¡°You would.¡± ¡°I¡¯d never have to worry about any...¡± ¡°Vaginas?¡± Quaraun shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re horrible, you know that?¡± ¡°So, is it the act of sex you¡¯re scared of or just the thought of vaginas?¡± ¡°Uh... I don¡¯t...¡± ¡°It¡¯s both, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Would you kindly change the subject?¡± ¡°To boys? I like boys. I can talk about boys all day. You know there¡¯s a new boy in town right?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Do you like boys?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°You asked me to change the subject. I was talking about you not liking girls, now I¡¯m talking about you is liking boys.¡± ¡°How is that changing the subject?¡± ¡°Instead of scaring you with hoo-hoos, I decided to scare you with ding dongs instead.¡± ¡°I hate those words.¡± ¡°Okay. Instead of scaring you with pussies, vaginas, and cunts, I decided to scare you with penises, cocks, and dicks instead.¡± ¡°Those words aren¡¯t any better.¡± ¡°Quaraun, just answer the question.¡± ¡°What? No!¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re not answering the question or no you don¡¯t want to fuck with boy Elves instead of girl Elves?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to... I ... I don¡¯t do that with anyone regardless of gender. I don¡¯t like sex, why can¡¯t you get that through your head?¡± ¡°Is that because you¡¯d rather be fucked then fuck?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°You do dress like a girl, Quaraun. Kind of stands to reason you might like being fucked like a girl.¡± ¡°How do you... what... where does your mind think up these things? I don¡¯t like anyone that way. I have no interest in... I don¡¯t want to do anything with girls or boys. I don¡¯t want to do anything to or with anyone nor do I want anyone doing anything to me. It¡¯s not something I want... It is... icky.¡± ¡°Icky?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Icky. By the gods, do you even hear yourself? You are weird, Quaraun. How do you see sex as icky?¡± ¡°How do you see it as not?¡± ¡°Well, you¡¯ve never had sex, so you wouldn¡¯t even know!¡± ¡°And I never will.¡± ¡°Quaraun, I guarantee if you ever have sex with somebody, you¡¯ll love it and not want to stop doing it and think you were crazy for not doing it sooner.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about... Can we talk about something else? Why are we talking about sex?¡± ¡°Oh! I got you to say sex.¡± ¡°Why are you doing this to me?¡± ¡°Because your father wants you to get married to one of the girls in your family, preferably all of your sisters, all at the same time, and sire lots of incestuous, inbred, pure blooded little Moon Elf babies and you are out here sitting on the front steps of the palace moping about it. That¡¯s why.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯d like to get my mind off of my father and his plans for my life, so could you please, change the subject?¡± ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s see... Oh! I know. This¡¯ll cheer you up. You the one that¡¯s crazy ga-ga over candy right?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°You like candy, yes?¡± ¡°Yeah. I guess.¡± ¡°Did you know there is a new shop in town?¡± ¡°Of course I don¡¯t. I rarely ever get into town. My father never let¡¯s me leave the palace, I might get infected with some non-Moon Elf friends and breath in some non-Moon Elf air. Or I might fall into bed with a non-Moon Elf and accidentally create some evil half-Elves. You know what my father is like.¡± ¡°Uhm... how do you fall into bed and accidentally create evil half-Elves? You do know there¡¯s more to sex than that right?¡± ¡°I know how sex works BeaLuna. I just don¡¯t want to do it.¡± ¡°Well, if you want to skip out on your father and come to town with me, I¡¯ll show you it. It¡¯s a real humdinger of a place. It¡¯s a candy shop. The freaking building is made out of gingerbread.¡± ¡°Gingerbread?¡± ¡°Yep. It fell out of the sky one night....¡± ¡°Fell out of the sky?¡± ¡°Yeah, landed on somebody. Killed them.¡± ¡°Somebody was killed by a gingerbread house falling out of the sky?¡± ¡°Yeah. Cool, huh?¡± ¡°Uhm... BeaLuna, are you feeling okay?¡± ¡°Right as peachy rain.¡± ¡°You kind of ain¡¯t been acting yourself. Less so now. It¡¯s not like you to be joyful over death.¡± ¡°It¡¯s the damned gingerbread. I¡¯ve been eating it all morning. It makes my head feel weird, but than after it¡¯s like, watch out!¡± ¡°BeaLuna. Faeries use gingerbread to drug people.¡± ¡°Cool!¡± ¡°No. It¡¯s not. Where is this gingerbread house?¡± ¡°Out by the edge of the forest.¡± ¡°BeaLuna? What forest? There is no forest. This is Ivujivik. Its Arctic Tundra. We¡¯re only a few miles south of the North Pole. There¡¯re no trees around here for hundreds of miles.¡± ¡°Well, whatever. The gingerbread house is directly outside the forest. Right on the threshold of it. The guy lives in a damned gingerbread house.¡± ¡°You mean like a cake?¡± ¡°Yeah. Exactly it¡¯s a ginormous cake.¡± ¡°Who erects a shop out of cake?¡± ¡°He calls himself BoomFuzzy. Your father would love him. Would loathe the guts off him. He¡¯s loony as hell. He¡¯s a half-Elf. I don¡¯t recognize what the other half of him is. Crazy as a fricking loon. Well, what do you expect from a guy who lives in a freaking cake? The guy¡¯s a nut job fruitcake. Just like you. You should hear him talk. He¡¯s got this bizarre frigging accent. He¡¯s like someone from up North or something...¡± ¡°North of here? What¡¯s North of the Deep North? We¡¯re even further North than Santa Claus.¡± ¡°I see him out there every day, icing his roof or planting gumdrops in the flowerpots. He¡¯s stark bonking mad. The guy¡¯s crazy as heck. You¡¯ll love him, he¡¯s as nutty as you are. He throws caution to the wind. Says to hell with standard Elven conventions. He¡¯s only been in town for a few days. Your father is going to have a royal fit when he finds out a half-Elf has moved into the village. I don¡¯t know who¡¯s more irresponsible, you or him. You¡¯d love him. Come on, I¡¯ll take you out there. You¡¯ll love this guy, he¡¯s as nutty as you are.¡± Minutes later, Quaraun stood on the other side of the village. He was standing on the outskirts of the Frozen Forest. Standing in front of a house made of gingerbread. The walls were made of soft, spongy, coppery brown gingerbread loaves, iced with light, fluffy, ivory coloured vanilla buttercream. The windows formed of fragile, paper-thin, golden yellow honey comb sugar barley. The door of brittle bittersweet peanut butter brickle. The front path was dark chocolate-covered cherry pebbles, sprinkled with nonpareils. The trees and bushes made of rainbow coloured lollipops and pink and blue cotton candy. The scent was intoxicating. Molasses. Anise. Clove. Vanilla. Licorice. Horehound. Peppermint. Wormwood. Quaraun saw what everybody else saw. He smelled what every one else smelled. The sugar crystals sparkling in the dusky evening sunlight. The glistening, shimmering glaze. The fluffy whipped cream. Quaraun closed his eyes. He remembered these scents. Not so very long ago. On the road to Ivujivik. King Gwallmaiic. The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Quaraun could hardly think. The scent of the beast¡¯s breath, hair, and body was intoxicating. Molasses. Anise. Clove. Cinnamon. Vanilla. Licorice. Horehound. Peppermint. Wormwood. Gingerbread. Cake. Honey. Sandalwood. Patchouli. Frankincense. Myrrh. Hashish. Opium. Poppies. It was like being in a candy shop, next to a bakery, beside an opium house. Quaraun wanted to melt away in the glorious delights of the creature¡¯s enticing fragrances. Quaraun opened his eyes. He was here. King Gwallmaiic. In the village. The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley had invaded Ivujivik. And no one had noticed. They couldn¡¯t see what he¡¯d done. The cake, the food, the candy, the gingerbread¡­ it was drugged. The whole village was drugged. Drugs plagued the entire city. Caught. Trapped. Deceived. Imprisoned. Ensnared by The Elf Eater. He perceived what they were experiencing. But he could also see the truth behind the lie. The cakes and candies flickered and shimmered, twist and turn, the horrible, spectral shadow, over a dark, grim, wicked, gloomy, terrible, terrible reality. Like ghost shadows, they twinkled and glowed in a dark. Creepy shadows. Scary cakes. Fluffy cream. ¡°It¡¯s not real,¡± Quaraun said the BeaLuna. ¡°What do you mean it¡¯s not real?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not real.¡± ¡°No? Looks real.¡± ¡°No, you are deceived, entrapped, ensnared.¡± ¡°Tastes real too.¡± ¡°Tastes?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°You haven¡¯t eaten any of it, have you?¡± Quaraun looked scared and sounded horrified. ¡°Of course. Why?¡± ¡°It¡¯s drugged.¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡± ¡°It is.¡± ¡°You¡¯re being paranoid again, Quaraun.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t eat it.¡± ¡°Yeah, kind of too late for that. Almost everybody in the village has taken a bite out of his house. I did too.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°It¡¯s made out of gingerbread.¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡± ¡°Yes, it is.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not it¡¯s... it¡¯s ghastly... it¡¯s horrible... it¡¯s made out of...¡± ¡°It¡¯s gingerbread. It¡¯s meant to be eaten. What else do you do with a gingerbread house?¡± ¡°Do you see a gingerbread house?¡± ¡°Yes, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°I... no... It¡¯s not...¡± Chapter 8 Part 4 of 6: BoomFuzzy and The Gingerbread House That Fell From the Sky Quaraun was very disturbed. Greatly troubled, by what he saw. And what BeaLuna and the rest of the villagers could not see. What he smelt verses what they could smell. The others saw a gingerbread house. Quaraun saw the ruined remains of an ancient castle, long ago destroyed, and rebuilt out of bones. Piles of crumbling ash grey stones, were littered around the edges. All around the decadent dwelling, BeaLuna and the others saw trees exuding with lollipops. Quaraun saw monstrous dead oak trees, heavy laden with poison apricots. Dripping red with oozing blood. These were definitely not large plants enclosed in bark and shedding leaves. These were monsters in disguise. The trees were not trees, but Fae beasts with brick red eyes and sharp white fangs. All around the ruins, grew dead roses and bramble vines, thick with thorns, also oozing blood. The chocolate stones were the heads and skulls of hundreds of dead Elves, their eyes gouged out. Every bit of the house dripped in fresh blood. The bone structure was lashed together with entrails. A purplish black miasma mist hovered like a thick, dense, impenetrable, fog all around the evil place. Quaraun knew immediately that the mist was toxic and had drugged the others. Powerful dark ceremonial magic was controlling this strange place that had appeared at the edge of their village. He looked back into the village. The mist was wafting low along the streets, drifting into shops and houses. Everyone was infected. Quaraun reached out to pick an apricot from the nearest tree. A chill swept through him as he touched the frozen fruit. Liches. The tree was a Lich. ¡°He¡¯s not a candy maker. He¡¯s Necromancer,¡± Quaraun muttered under his breath. He reached out to touch one of the bloody apricots. ¡°Apricots don¡¯t grow on oak trees... or bleed Elf blood.¡± Quaraun quickly withdrew his hand from the bloody apricot. It was cold. Colder than cold. Chilled, cool, crisp, frosty, cold. Bitter, bleak, inhospitable, cold of death. Death. That¡¯s what this was. So much death. Impenetrable doom. Grim, dark, cold, deadly, airless death. Dejected, depressed, deliberate, penetrating, glacial, cold. Acrimonious, desolate, resentful, hostile, bleakness of the afterlife. Afterlife. Immortality. Eternity. Undeath. That¡¯s what this breathed of. So much death. Impervious dread. Death. Bereavement of cessation. Grisly, deep, bleak, bloody, stifling death. Dim, fuzzy, dark, destructive, brutal death. Cruel, cloudy, cold, destructive, smothering death. Ghastly ominous, brusque, corpse-like, unstirring death. Gruesome, sinister, inhospitable, deadly, oppressive death. Horrid, heavy, desolate, dreary, murderous, suffocating death. Death hung heavy in the air. Liches. Cold, icy, death. The icy void of death wafted from the gingerbread house.. Ice crystals grew up from the dirt below his feet. ¡°It¡¯s a Lich¡¯s frost. There¡¯s a Lich here.¡± BeaLuna was still yapping happily about scrumptious gingerbread and tasty candy. She loved gingerbread and candy. Several young Elflings from the village gathered around the gingerbread house, breaking pieces off of it and eating it. Blood dribbled from their smiling mouths as they gobbled down what to them looked like wonderful whipped cream cheese frosting. Quaraun felt sick. He tried very hard not to faint. Or vomit. He could taste it in the back of his throat. He silently told himself he must not faint. He could see the reality behind the illusion. He knew that what they were eating was not gingerbread. It was not the soft, moist, decedent, chewy, ooey, gooey goodness of warm, fragrant, heavy homemade spice cake that they were all convinced it was. He knew that powerful dark magic was entrancing the villagers. ¡°Faeries,¡± Quaraun whispered to himself. This time out loud. ¡°What?¡± BeaLuna asked. ¡°Faeries.¡± ¡°Where?¡± ¡°Here!¡± Quaraun pointed to the horrific bloody building, but all BeaLuna saw was gingerbread. Like the others, she too had already eaten a piece of the house and was caught up in the spell. ¡°It¡¯s an illusion. You¡¯re all drugged by Fae food.¡± ¡°You¡¯re talking crazy Quaraun.¡± ¡°Think about it. It¡¯s gingerbread. It fell out of the sky. It¡¯s impossible. You can¡¯t build a real house out of gingerbread.¡± ¡°Quaraun, I hate to disagree with you, but there it is. Big as life. A real live gingerbread house.¡± ¡°When did it get here?¡± ¡°A few weeks ago.¡± ¡°Weeks? You said a few days ago before.¡± ¡°It just showed up one night. Kind of just fell out of the sky and landed here. Not long after you arrived, actually. In fact, the next day I think.¡± ¡°And you don¡¯t think that¡¯s strange?¡± ¡°No. Why should I?¡± ¡°Houses don¡¯t fall out of the sky.¡± ¡°Well, we did think it a little strange, at first, but I don¡¯t know. It kind of grows on you.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s not real.¡± ¡°No?¡± It was not BeaLuna who answered. ¡°Is not no real, eh? Pray do tell me how me house is no be real,¡± asked a heavily accented Scottish voice behind him. ¡°How does one tell iffy house be real or no, eh?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a Wizard,¡± Quaraun said, not looking to see who had spoken. He was too busy staring at the impossible cake dwelling, trying to determine what type of Faerie could cause such a potent spell that it had overtaken everyone in the village. ¡°No mony Wizards be able to see dat which can no be detected, taste dat which can no perceive, feels dat which has no t¡¯ing to touch, sniffs dat which smell not as it is, what hears t¡¯ings can no be heard, eh? Not even der great and powerful Wizards can do what is ya does. How does de pretty pink jelly brain Elf do it?¡± ¡°I have the gift of Faerie Sight...that¡¯s not a real gingerbread house, it¡¯s a Faerie glimm...¡± ¡°Yis be de Moon Elf¡¯s powerful Wizard, eh?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Quaraun continued, staring at the house, and still not looking at its owner. ¡°I¡¯m the only Wizard around here. Wizardry is illegal in these parts. Finderu made laws to ban it.¡± ¡°Did he now?¡± ¡°Yes. Too many Moon Elves going off on greed infested, power trips and getting into Dark Arts and Blood Magic, so now no Moon Elf may use magic at all. Safer that way, he says.¡± ¡°Says who?¡± ¡°Finderu the Masked. He created The Guild of Wizardry. If you¡¯re not a Guild member, they¡¯ll hang you or behead you or both. Terribly regulated. Exceedingly coordinated. Dreadfully dominated.¡± ¡°Does ye be Guild member?¡± ¡°I am. But their meetings are boring. They talk about thing I don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°What does ya no understanding?¡± ¡°Mathematics. Science. Equations. Star charts. Planetary movements. Religion. Philosophy. Theology. They write up rules ad vote on laws. It¡¯s all dreadfully dull and boring. I can¡¯t understand how to use numbers. I don¡¯t the meanings of half the stuff they say. The whole thing confuses me. Gives me time to embroider while they argue. I only go to look at their hair.¡± ¡°Look at hair? What for ya do dat?¡± ¡°I like long hair. The Wizards all have long hair.¡± ¡°Yis seem to has lost yars.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Quaraun nervously fluttered his fingers through his short hair. He wanted to cry. He¡¯d been crying most of the morning. Quaraun felt naked without his long hair. He had not cut it since he was born. Never. Not once. Not ever. Quaraun began trembling. The current lack of his hair was extremely upsetting for him. Had BeaLuna not brought Quaraun to see the gingerbread house, he¡¯d likely be in the tower slicing his wrists, right now. A common pastime for Quaraun, when he could not brush his hair. Quaraun had a developed a dangerous habit of self harm since his arrival in the Moon Elf village. Quaraun¡¯s mind was already a frail thing, but now depression sunk in on top of the original mental deficits. Quaraun was not smart, and he was painfully aware of this. The other Moon Elves took great delight in rubbing this fact in his face. Since his return to Ivujivik, what little self esteem he possessed, had plummeted. He was teased, beaten, bullied, and belittled daily, hourly, nightly, at every turn by every Elf. But most especially by his father.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°My father cut it off. I¡¯m not happy about it.¡± Quaraun chocked back the tears as he said this. He had even greater trouble chocking back the desire to strangle his father to death. Rage burned in Quaraun¡¯s heart, over his father¡¯s chopping off his lovely mega long silvery hair. ¡°Why him do dat?¡± ¡°He said I¡¯m supposed to be his son, not his daughter. He also says Wizards are evil and I¡¯m not allowed to be one. I¡¯m just waiting for him to drop dead so I can go back to living my own life as I choose.¡± ¡°Ah. How be it ya come to live with Di¡¯Jinn, then?¡± ¡°My uncle. The King. He sent me there. My mother wanted me to be a Wizard. So he hired a Di¡¯Jinn to come here and train me...¡± ¡°De King did?¡± ¡°Yes. But my father killed her...¡± Quaraun¡¯s voice seethed with rage as he thought of the day his mother died. The more he thought of his father, the more he wanted to kill him. Quaraun¡¯s fists clenched. ¡°Who him kill? Ya mother or de priest?¡± ¡°My mother. The priest was a Thullid. And was going to kill me and the Di¡¯Jinn priest as well. So the King sent me away with the priest and he took me back to his temple in Persia. I grew up in Persia with the Di¡¯Jinn. I¡¯m kind of having trouble getting along with the Moon Elves. I was taught how to live like an Elf. I spent most of my time with Humans when not with Thullids. The Thullids raised me. But they lived in a heavily populated area between several large Human cities. I get along with Humans better than Elves. I¡¯ve only been back here a few weeks and I¡¯ve not been getting along well with them. They are very strict here. They like conformity. Individual expression is not well looked up. I¡¯m radical and free spirited according to most every one in the village.¡± ¡°What ya doing here wid Elves than?¡± ¡°The King is old and ill. They think he¡¯ll die in a few more years, and so they decided it was time for me to learn how to be an Elf, before he he dies.¡± ¡°What King dying to do wid ya?¡± ¡°I¡¯m heir to the throne.¡± ¡°Is ya not the younger brother¡¯s son?¡± ¡°Yes. But the King has no sons. So, I¡¯m next in line.¡± ¡°So yi¡¯ll be King soon?¡± ¡°Yes. But I don¡¯t want to be. I don¡¯t like it here. It¡¯s cold. And they won¡¯t let me wear pink and they cut my hair and I¡¯m not allowed to be a wizard and embroidery is sinful...¡± ¡°Embroidery is sinful?¡± ¡°Yes. It¡¯s not allowed. Only abstract designs. Swirls. Paisley. I sew designs from life on dresses. Birds. Hearts. JellyFish...¡± ¡°JellyFish?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Why JellyFish?¡± ¡°I like JellyFish. They are my favourite animals. So beautiful. And pink. Lovely tentacles, that look like long hair flowing behind them as they swim. I miss having tentacles. It¡¯s why I have ling hair. It¡¯s like having tentacles again. I hate that he cut my hair. I miss swimming with them.¡± ¡°Swimming wid dem?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Wid de Pink JellyFish?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Dey no from dis planet. From planet much far away.¡± ¡°I know. I miss them. The planet is gone. It was destroyed. Our sun blew up and took the planet with it. I¡¯m the last one.¡± ¡°De last Pink JellyFish.¡± ¡°Yes. I¡¯m trapped in this Elf. I don¡¯t mind being him. Not if I can wear pink and grow my hair long to flow in the wind, like swimming in the ocean.¡± ¡°Ya miss being free, outside of ya host.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°I see.¡± ¡°Why ya go to Guild meetings iffy ya no allowed to do magic?¡± ¡°The King let¡¯s me be a Wizard. Finderu says I¡¯m the only Moon Elf allowed to be a Wizard.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°My father¡¯s the younger brother of the King. It¡¯s the only reason they allow it with me. It¡¯s the only thing I¡¯m good at.¡± ¡°Magic?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Magic, only t¡¯ing yis good at, eh?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Be dat ya own lack of self-confidence talking or is it dey bully ya to t¡¯inks dat?¡± ¡°Both.¡± ¡°Ah! Is ya not de one what weave de silk und blow de glass?¡± ¡°I am, but they don¡¯t allow it here.¡± ¡°No?¡± ¡°I weave Thullid silk.¡± ¡°So?¡± ¡°It¡¯s pink.¡± ¡°Und dis problem, aye?¡± ¡°Yes. In case you hadn¡¯t noticed, pink clothes are forbidden around here.¡± ¡°Aye. I had noticed ya were no wearing ya pretty petal pink frocks today. Never seen ya in de bleary blue before.¡± ¡°Blue is the only colour anyone is allowed to wear.¡± ¡°De Gnome, she no wear blue.¡± ¡°BeaLuna? She doesn¡¯t live here. Visits from Kuujjuaraapik, the next town over, sort of. It¡¯s South of here. By the Great Whale River. Near where the Cree set camp.¡± ¡°What for Flower Gnome doth way up here where dair be no blooms grow?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. Her family lives up here.¡± ¡°I¡¯m an Orchid Gnome,¡± BeaLuna said between mouthfuls of saltwater taffy. ¡°Squaw Flowers are everywhere up here. Only part of the world they grow in. Lady Slipper Orchids are nearing extinction. It¡¯s our job to make them not go extinct. They are one of the few flowers that can grow up here in the Arctic Tundra. It is very rare. We help them grow.¡± ¡°Ah! Pussy Flowers.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Pink pussies, growing on a delicate green cock stem.¡± ¡°You¡¯re vulgar, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Always. Ya like me house?¡± ¡°There is no house, it¡¯s nothing but...¡± Quaraun turned to see a strange looking half-Elf standing incredibly uncomfortably close to him. Dreadfully close. Too close. Much too close. He had no sense of the concept of personal space whatsoever. It was very un-Elf-like of him. Had the creature been a little taller, they would have hit noses. The incredible closeness with which the creature had come to him, without his realizing he was there, caught Quaraun off guard. No one was able to get close to him. No, except for King Gwallmaiic, back there on the road to Ivujivik... that night... Quaraun shivered. He longed to be back on the road that night. Back in the tent. Back in King Gwallmaiic¡¯s arms. Back in King Gwallmaiic¡¯s bed. He needed King Gwallmaiic. He wanted King Gwallmaiic. Quaraun shook himself out of his lustful thoughts for the evil Faerie King. He needed to clear his head of his lust for the Phooka. Stay in the here and now of the mysterious gingerbread house. And it¡¯s owner who was standing uncomfortably too close to him. He picked up on anyone entering his personal space, before they could get within several feet of him. A feeling of dread ran through Quaraun, as he realized, only an extremely powerful Wizard could have broken through his barrier undetected like this. Quaraun took several steps back. He stared at the creature, trying to see through its glimmer spell, but the magic around the creature was too strong, and Quaraun saw partly what the creature wanted him to see and partly what he really was. What Quaraun saw looked like a pure white albino Moon Elf, with massive frizzy clouds of snow white Afro dreadlocks, small thin black almond-shaped eyes with no colour and no whites, several dozen rows of long pointy piranha-like fangs protruding over his lips, and fearsome razor sharp gleaming black eagle talons 4 inches long on the tip of every finger. He was dressed in a long chocolate brown velvet cassock with tiny red buttons resembling red hot candies, down the front, and white piped trim around the edges. He looked like a tiny snow monster wearing a gingerbread man costume. ¡°Who are you?¡± ¡°BoomFuzzy. Candy maker. Pastry Chef. I cook Elves.¡± ¡°You mean you cook for Elves?¡± ¡°No. I cook Elves. Elves is delicious. Lovely served with gingerbread stuffing.¡± ¡°It¡¯s worse then Faeries.¡± ¡°We does be worse den Fae? What be?¡± BoomFuzzy asked. ¡°You¡¯re a trickster.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°What make ya says it?¡± ¡°I can sense it.¡± ¡°Can ya now?¡± ¡°I know you.¡± ¡°Aye. Better than most.¡± ¡°Why are you here?¡± ¡°If wishes were horses we¡¯d¡¯ll ride.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Ye wished for horny horse.¡± ¡°No I didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Aye, ya did. For here We does be.¡± ¡°I did not wish for you.¡± ¡°Yis a Di¡¯Jinn. Granting wishes be what ya do.¡± ¡°When did I wish for you?¡± ¡°Not more den wee lil hour ago. Ye wished for someone to take yar wee lil problem away. And mere seconds ago, ye were wishing to be in me bed, back on the road to Ivujivik.¡± ¡°Did you make a wish, Quaraun?¡± BeaLuna asked. ¡°I...¡± ¡°You¡¯re a Di¡¯Jinn, you know better than to go around wishing for stuff. You make wishes happen, but with consequences.¡± Quaraun ignored the Gnome and addressed the candy making Necromancer. ¡°I didn¡¯t wish for you.¡± ¡°A wish once granted can¡¯na be undoed,¡± BoomFuzzy warned. ¡°I didn¡¯t wish for you.¡± ¡°Quaraun, what did you wish for exactly?¡± BeaLuna asked. ¡°Among od¡¯er t¡¯ings him did wish for ye to shut ya wee lil trap.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Does ya remember what ye wished for, me luscious wee lil Elf?¡± Quaraun, stood very silent. He couldn¡¯t remember what he had said. ¡°What ye exact words were? How ye worded ye wish, dat ye now finds yeself granted wid?¡± Quaraun sighed and shook his head. He remembered what he¡¯d wished for and he knew immediately who this was. ¡°Ah, ya remembers, eh?¡± ¡°What?¡± BeaLuna looked back and forth between Quaraun and the grinning candy maker. ¡°The soldiers were saying this morning, the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley was seen in the area. I wished they would come here and eat my father and everyone who hurt me.¡± ¡°You what?¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t thinking.¡± ¡°And that brought a nut with a gingerbread house here?¡± ¡°It brought a horny nut wid a gingerbread house here. Him wish were longer more den what him did just said.¡± The candy maker picked the apricot Quaraun had touched. Blood poured from its wounded branch. As he ate the fruit, blood gushed from its broken flesh. But only Quaraun saw this. BeaLuna and the other Elves only saw a fluffy tree heavy laden with pink cotton candy leaves and lollipop fruit. ¡°Are you a chef?¡± ¡°Aye. Food is sex. Every one likes sex.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like sex.¡± ¡°Every one likes food. When We does make me food, We does want to make people feel like dey just had great sex.¡± Quaraun looked beyond the village to the surrounding valley. It was gone. The entire valley, the mountains, the green meadows, they were all gone, replaced by vast forests of mega tall pine trees towering hundreds of feet over the village, and stretching out around the valley or miles of every side. ¡°Ya can sees me Forest of No Return, We does sees, eh? Lovely isn¡¯t it?¡± BoomFuzzy gestured towards the trees. ¡°No one goes in and no one goes out.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a Faerie Forest.¡± ¡°Aye. We does take it wid me, wherevers We does go.¡± ¡°Horses.¡± ¡°What?¡± BeaLuna looked out at the edge of the valley. It was still as it always was. She saw nothing different. ¡°What are you looking at?¡± ¡°A vast herd of little black horses. Thousands of them. They¡¯ve surrounded the entire valley. Evil black, flesh eating Faerie Horse with gleaming silver horns.¡± ¡°Unicorns?¡± ¡°Phookas. We¡¯ve been surrounded by King Gwallmaiic¡¯s Army. The Elf Eater¡¯s of Pepper Valley. They¡¯re here. They followed me. They followed me all the way from Persia. I saw them in the desert of the Di¡¯Jinn too.¡± ¡°You¡¯re always seeing unicorns Quaraun. They aren¡¯t real you know.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t wish for you.¡± ¡°Yis very pretty, wish granting Di¡¯Jinn,¡± the creature said in Quaraun¡¯s jewelled ear, as he once again stepped too close for Quaraun¡¯s comfort. ¡°Ya wished for de Moon Elves to die, ya father to be eaten, and me to finish what We does started on de road back dere, when we meet up wheen days outside of de village. For me pretty lil¡¯ Elf, We does be more den happy to grant ye all t¡¯ree dems wishes.¡± Quaraun at 5¡¯6" was the shortest of the male Moon Elves, but the owner of the gingerbread house was several inches shorter than Quaraun, and had to stand on tip-toe to try to talk to Quaraun on an even level. And he did exactly that, but stepped right up onto Quaraun¡¯s feet, before doing so. The Faerie was dressed like a Wizard, in dark brown chocolate coloured velvet robes, with a cockscomb hat of the same material perched on his head. At a first glance, BoomFuzzy looked like any other Moon Elf, with his pure white skin and hair that made him blend in with the snow. Until that is, one looked at his eyes. Moon Elves all had pale icy whitish blue eyes. BoomFuzzy¡¯s black eyes had no whites and no iris, and were like staring into two black bottomless pits. And his hair. Moon Elves all had stick straight, silken smooth, silvery white hair. But BoomFuzzy had a wild mess of unbrushed frizzy braids and dreadlocks that were stuck full of bones, feathers, beads, ribbons, and twigs. There was also the issue of his piranha-like fangs, and the huge, fearsomely, sharp black eagle talons which tipped each finger. A Human, a Gnome, or a Dwarf might have mistaken him for an Elf, even other Elves might have passed him off as a half-Elf, but Quaraun was a Wizard. A powerful Wizard. And he could sense strong magic around this un-Elf. Faerie Glamour. Quaraun could see behind the spell. He knew what the others saw, but he could see the truth. BoomFuzzy. No. Not BoomFuzzy. BoomFuzzy wasn¡¯t real. BoomFuzzy was an illusion. A mask worn by the Faerie King. This was King Gwallmaiic. Quaraun was sure of it. While most Phookas were content to remain in a single form, never changing, King Gwallmaiic, was a shape shifter with many forms, and shifted daily, sometimes hourly changing bodies the way a woman changed dresses. He could and often did look like any one of any race he wanted to be. In his true form, he was a horse. A Phooka. A shape-shifting Kelpie. An evil, blood-thirsty, brackish water Fae. An evil black unicorn with a gleaming silver horn. Quaraun could see this. He could see behind the half-Elf was a black unicorn. Like a holograph he shimmered back and forth between the monster Quaraun had seen on the road, the man whom had raped in the following night, the pony in the desert of the Di¡¯Jinn, and now the albino candy maker. He was all of them. And Quaraun could see them all. Flickering. Blinking. The body the old shape shifter wore the on the road to Ivujivik, was the one Quaraun recognized from The Guild¡¯s wanted posters. He looked like a dark skinned Human, with a wild mess of black unbrushed frizzy braids and dreadlocks that hung to his waist and were stuck full of bones, feathers, beads, ribbons, and twigs. In each form, the hair was the same. Even the pony¡¯s mane had been the same. Quaraun stared, mesmerized at the Phooka¡¯s wild hair. Massive, unbrushed frizzy braids and dreadlocks that hung to his waist and were stuck full of bones, feathers, beads, ribbons, and twigs. All marks of Scottish Hoodoo Cloutie Magic. Such beautiful hair. This Phooka¡¯s hair stopped Quaraun in his tracks and left the Elf unable to think or move or even remember why he had come to see the building at all. Quaraun with his lustful obsessive fetish for hair, was mesmerized by BoomFuzzy¡¯s glorious, massive, wild, unruly, ropes and cords of thick, woollen locks. Quaraun suddenly burned with the desire to run his fingers through the Phooka¡¯s hair. He wanted to brush his own hair. But Quaraun¡¯s long hair was gone. Cut off, by a brutal evil man, who declared long hair a sin. Brutally cut off while royal guards had held him down. Quaraun ran his fingers through his short chopped off hair. He cringed at the feel of it. Quaraun had not cut his hair in 70 years. And now it was gone. Anger burned in his chest, Rage filled his mind. He wanted nothing more than to kill the man whom had done this. Kill the man whom had cut off his long wonderful hair. Minus his own long hair, Quaraun now lusted dreadfully for BoomFuzzy¡¯s hair. In his heart, he cursed his father and glorified BoomFuzzy. ¡°BoomFuzzy,¡± the Moon Elf whispered. The hair was distinctive. While most Faeries were known to have wild, unbrushed hair, Faeries were very obsessive in sticking to rigid rituals. The career of a Fae could be identified by the style of their hair. Items woven into their braids, told the onlooker what their job was. Even a shape shifter would not style their hair differently when looking like someone else. A Phooka might change form to look like your mother, but you would be able to tell your mom from the Phooka, by the messy hair. You would wonder why your mom had suddenly taken to styling strange plaits of red ribbons in her hair. No matter the form he took, King Gwallmaiic always kept his hair, exactly the same. The black unicorn. BoomFuzzy the half-Elf candy maker. The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Quaraun had seen all three, and all three had the exact same hair. Even the little black unicorn, his mane and tail had been King Gwallmaiic¡¯s natural hair. Chapter 8 Part 5 of 6: BoomFuzzy and The Gingerbread House That Fell From the Sky Quaraun stared at the Phooka sitting before him and recognized the bits of brick a brack in the Phooka¡¯s hair as Cloutie Magic immediately. That marked the Phooka as a magic user, a wizard of some sort. A Necromancer. BoomFuzzy. BoomFuzzy¡¯s hair. King Gwallmaiic. The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. The same bones. The same braids. Strips of grey and purple wool, woven into the braids to make them bigger, thicker, wilder. The thing which startled Quaraun, though he refused to admit it, was not the presence of the Phooka, but rather the Phooka¡¯s eyes. Those strange haunting pupilless black eyes which Quaraun knew so well. The little black pony from the desert of the Di¡¯Jinn. My unicorn. BoomFuzzy. Quaraun had seen the pony dozens of times throughout his lifetime. The evil Unicorn had followed him for centuries. Several times Quaraun had tried to catch it, but it always ran away. Timid, skittish, the little black Unicorn had liked to run up behind the Elf, then run away laughing hysterically. In his childhood, Quaraun had grown to think of the Unicorn as his friend. Then one day, the Unicorn came to play, no more. Weeks passed and Quaraun had feared the Unicorn dead. After several months, one day while running errands for the Di¡¯Jinn, Quaraun found himself in a desert marketplace, passing a tent, in which he had heard the mournful cries of a horse being beaten. Inside the tent, he had found his little black Unicorn, crippled and maimed. His horn sawed off, his legs broken, shackled in Faerie Iron, and blood pouring from his gasping mouth. To capture a Phooka was a difficult task, but this band of Chaos Demons, the Ghoul¡¯s men, had set a trap, a virgin locked in a cage made of Faerie Iron, and once they got the pony inside, he was powerless to break free. The evil Unicorn had been tortured and was close to death. A Unicorn¡¯s power lay in its horn. Without his horn, the horse was unable to morph, unable to fight, unable to cast illusions. Quaraun had wasted no time in rescuing the injured pony and setting it free, back out into the desert of the Di¡¯Jinn, but from that day forth, the pony never stopped following him. Every day the pony now stayed outside the temple of the Di¡¯Jinn and waited for the little Elfling to come out and play. The Thullid, did not understand the Elf¡¯s need for companionship. They did not understand, the friendship between the young Elf boy and his horse. And one day, when he went to meet his pony by the river, Quaraun found the Di¡¯Jinn waiting. The ponies fled in terror but few escaped the wrath of the Di¡¯Jinn and the black Unicorn watched in terror as the Thullids slaughtered his Phookan army. The young Elf stood over the dead ponies in tears. With the herd of ponies dead, the Thullids turned upon the little black Unicorn, that led the herd, but didn¡¯t live long enough to kill him. ¡°You¡¯ll not kill my Unicorn!¡± They were the last words the Thullids heard. The Unicorn watched as every last Di¡¯Jinn withered away and died in horrific agony, their body¡¯s bursting into flames, and reduced to ash, under the wrath of their beloved pink Jellyfish living in the body of a very lonely Moon Elf. The Thullids had underestimated the powers of the Jelly-brained Elf, as much as they had underestimated his love for the little black Unicorn. All life in the desert was gone, save a small Elf wearing pink Thullid silks and a tiny black Unicorn, no bigger than a goat. The dazed and confused Elf turned around and walked out of the desert, and walked clear across the planet, making his way back home to the Moon Elf village of the Deep North, while the Phooka gathered up what little remained of his army and trailed along behind. BoomFuzzy. BoomFuzzy was my unicorn. My little black unicorn, returned to me. I¡¯ve found you again. No matter what form, Gwallmaiic took, two things about him never changed: his massive wave of frizzy dreadlocks filled with Cloutie ribbons and his gleaming, almond shaped black eyes. Regardless of any other racial features, white skin, black skin, tan skin, brown skin, red skin, yellow skin, gold skin, BoomFuzzy¡¯s eyes made him look Asian. As a Moon Elf, BoomFuzzy had resembled more of a Half-Elf, appeared to be half Chinese Human. Mongolian, BoomFuzzy had called it. He had lived in Mongolia for many years, long before Quaraun was born. Quaraun had always found BoomFuzzy¡¯s eyes hypnotic. Quaraun¡¯s stunned response to this creature, was the fact that, while it looked nothing like BoomFuzzy, at the same time, it looked everything like BoomFuzzy, had BoomFuzzy¡¯s eyes and BoomFuzzy¡¯s passion for dreadlocks filled with random items. BoomFuzzy¡¯s black demonic eyes had no whites and no iris, and were like staring into two black bottomless pits. He could have passed for a Moon Elf if not for his eyes, his piranha-like fangs, and the huge, fearsomely, sharp eagle talons which tipped each finger. He was otherwise no different from any other albino white Moon Elf, except that instead of smooth straight silver hair, his white hair had grown in massive clouds of frizz that he kept dreaded with bones and grey and purple wool. This Phooka, looked so much like BoomFuzzy, except, he looked like a dark skinned Human with black dread locks instead of a white skinned Moon Elf with white dreadlocks. His black eyes had no whites and no iris, and were like staring into two black bottomless pits. The Phooka could have passed for Human if not for his eyes, his piranha-like fangs, and the huge, fearsomely, sharp eagle talons which tipped each finger. He was dressed head to toe in a miss-matched patchwork of mostly black and dark brown furs, mostly skins in their natural forms with heads and legs still attached. Quaraun shock himself and stepped back, blinking, looking around. No. No. I¡¯ve lost my unicorn. This is not him. This is a Phooka. Phookas can see into your mind. Read your thoughts. They know what you think. They know what you feel. They give you whatever you want. Let you see whatever you want to see. No. This wasn¡¯t real. It couldn¡¯t be. It can¡¯t be. It mustn¡¯t be. Quaraun could not trust his eyes. He could not trust what he saw. This was a powerful Phooka. The gingerbread. Quaraun turned back to the gingerbread house. It isn¡¯t real. It can¡¯t be real. The castle. The black forest. He couldn¡¯t see them any more. The gingerbread house had taken full form in his mind. He could no longer see past the illusion. BoomFuzzy. BoomFuzzy. What have you done? Faerie magic. What was real? What was not? He did not know. He could not tell. Quaraun was always so sure of everything. He was Fae Sighted. He could see through a Faerie¡¯s spell. Now he was not. A Phooka had clouded his mind. A powerful Phooka. A lich. A Necromancer. King Gwallmaiic. The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Quaraun felt faint. Dizzy. And faint. The world around him spun out of control. There was no doubt in Quaraun¡¯s mind that this was a shape shifting Trickster Fae.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. He was caught in a trap. Caught in a Faerie¡¯s spell. The gingerbread. It was the gingerbread house. He had to get away from it. Faerie magic all around. Faerie food. Faerie drugs. Must focus. Must break free. Quaraun pushed the creature off of him and backed away again. ¡°Apricot?¡± The Phooka in Elf disguise handed Quaraun an apricot. ¡°I hate Faeries,¡± Quaraun whispered under his breath. ¡°Who said anyt¡¯ing aboot Faeries?¡± The tiny Elf-glimmered Faerie asked. ¡°You are a Faerie.¡± Quaraun took the fruit without thinking and took a bite out of it. ¡°No one else is be t¡¯inking so.¡± ¡°No one else is Faerie sighted and able to see through Faerie glimmer spells.¡± Quaraun turned back to the house and tried to see what the others saw. When he finally saw it, he did have to admit he was intrigued by the gingerbread house. Illusion or not it was quite a spectacular feat to have built it. ¡°That is an amazing house.¡± ¡°Yis a beautiful Elf.¡± BoomFuzzy ran his fingers through Quaraun¡¯s hair, stopping to rest on the ear that was still healing from the rings having been torn from it. ¡°That must have hurt.¡± ¡°It did.¡± ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°A Phooka bit me.¡± ¡°What a fucking shame.¡± ¡°What do you do when it rains? A gingerbread house isn¡¯t gonna hold out water.¡± ¡°A moment ago ya did no sees me wee gingerbread shoppie.¡± The Faerie moved closer to Quaraun again, this time running his fingers down the Elf¡¯s face. ¡°Most Elves like candy. Ye like apricots.¡± BoomFuzzy handed Quaraun another apricot. ¡°Does ya ever gets much rain up here in de Deep North?¡± ¡°Sometimes. Not very often. Snow will be a bigger problem. Snow is heavy, it¡¯ll collapse the roof.¡± ¡°We does t¡¯oughts ya saids me house was no real?¡± ¡°I did.¡± ¡°Sos does it not be reasonable to t¡¯ink rain and snow will no boders it, eh?¡± ¡°You talk strange.¡± ¡°Does We does? Apricot?¡± The Faerie handed him a third apricot. Quaraun took that as well. ¡°You do. You talk very strange. What are you?¡± ¡°Moment gone passed ya saids We does be Faerie. Ya sv¨¢ mentioned Phookas and eating ye father. Ya Gnome says We does be a Elf. We is BoomFuzzy.¡± ¡°You have claws.¡± BoomFuzzy looked down at his hands. ¡°Three apricots und ya still sees claws? Yis a powerful Wizard.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not from around here are you?¡± ¡°No, We does comes from de East. We does grews up on de coast. Wid de ocean. And salt water taffy. Does ya like candy?¡± BoomFuzzy handed Quaraun a box of salt water taffy. ¡°I don¡¯t eat Faerie food.¡± Quaraun put his hands behind his back and stepped away from the unElf. ¡°No? Apricot? Who says anyt¡¯ing abouts Fae food?¡± Quaraun took the fourth apricot. ¡°You¡¯re a Faerie. One must never take food from Faeries.¡± ¡°Really? Apricot?¡± Quaraun took the fifth apricot and kept on talking. ¡°Faeries drug their food.¡± ¡°Aye. Und who but yis be speak o Fae?¡± ¡°It¡¯s how they get their spells to work. How they trick people into thinking they are powerful.¡± ¡°But dey no be powerful, no, eh?¡± ¡°No. Fae are not as powerful magically as other beings are, so they use drugs to get into people¡¯s heads and make them see things that are not there. Faerie chefs are worst then most, especially candy makers. They make their candy out mushrooms and frogs and poppies.¡± ¡°We does be Elf.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a Faerie.¡± ¡°Ah, and how does de pretty one come to dat conclusion?¡± ¡°I am Faerie Sighted,¡± Quaraun said once again, feeling oddly dizzy and realizing the miasmic fog was having an effect on him. ¡°Are ya now?¡± ¡°Yes. Fae illusions don¡¯t work on me.¡± ¡°What do ya see when ya look at me?¡± ¡°What do the others see?¡± BoomFuzzy turned to BeaLuna. She was busying breaking off pieces of the gingerbread house and eating it. ¡°What does ya see when ya looks at me?¡± ¡°What do you mean, what do I see?¡± BeaLuna was confused by the question. ¡°Does We does looks not unlike a Moon Elf to ya?¡± ¡°Yep. Why?¡± BoomFuzzy turned back to Quaraun, bringing his face close to the Elf¡¯s and stroking his cheek while he spoke, his lips brushing against Quaraun¡¯s face. ¡°But We does no looks like a Moon Elf to ya?¡± ¡°No. You have claws, like an eagle¡¯s talons.¡± BoomFuzzy held up his hand and looked at his fingers. BeaLuna questioned this action, for his short trimmed, well groomed finger nails looked no different from those of any other Moon Elf. ¡°Does ya see claws on me hands?¡± BoomFuzzy ran the tips of his razor-sharp claws down Quaraun¡¯s face and smiled a wicked, evil grin, as the claws passed over the Elf¡¯s throat. ¡°Yes. They are each several inches long.¡± ¡°Quaraun, you¡¯re mad,¡± BeaLuna scolded. ¡°He doesn¡¯t have any claws.¡± ¡°Yes. He does. Talons, actually. And razor sharp by the feel of them.¡± Quaraun cringed as the claws traced a line down his throat and across his collarbone. ¡°You¡¯ll have to excuse him,¡± BeaLuna said to BoomFuzzy. ¡°He¡¯s always doing that. Seeing things that aren¡¯t there. He¡¯s crazy. We try to ignore it and humour him. It¡¯s generally best if you just go along with him and pretend to see whatever it is he¡¯s seeing.¡± ¡°Ya often see t¡¯ings dat ain¡¯t no dere, Pretty One?¡± BoomFuzzy asked Quaraun as he began kissing the Elf¡¯s cheek, while running his claws down the Elf¡¯s chest to his belly. ¡°I... no... I... I¡¯m always seeing things no one else can see. Can you... stop... touching me?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± BeaLuna agreed. ¡°He sees all kinds of stuff. Unicorns and stuff too.¡± ¡°Unicorns? Really?¡± BoomFuzzy smiled. ¡°Does ya like unicorns, Pretty Elf? I shall remember dat. Oh we can has fun wid Unicorns.¡± BoomFuzzy continued tracing a line down Quaraun with his claws, stopping to trace circles around his genitals. ¡°Yes... No... I like the idea of unicorns. Real unicorns are evil. Faerie horses. They kill people with their horns and eat them, prance around with the skulls on their horns like trophies. Unicorns are pretty though. Please stop touching me.¡± ¡°Ever been fucked by a unicorn?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°We does loves unicorns. They do be a favourite hobby of mine. Eating dem. They¡¯s pretty darned near as tasty as Elves be.¡± ¡°You eat Elves?¡± ¡°We does loves Elves. Especially de aristocratic High Elves. Their pampered, fancy sugary diets of sweets and pastries, all dat candy dey eats, creates a wonderful buttery fat on deir bones. The Christmas Elves are best. Stuffed full of sugar cookies and candy canes. They lack de wild gamy flavour of Wood Elves. Wood Elves for supper and Moon Elves for desert, Christmas Elves served wid hot fudge and French vanilla ice cream, wid luscious baked menagerie topping. Not¡¯ing better.¡± ¡°But you eat Elves?¡± ¡°If ya ever decides ya wants to be fucked by a Unicorn, We can arrange for dat to happen.¡± ¡°Why would I want to be fucked by a Unicorn?¡± ¡°Do ya knows how big a stallion¡¯s cock be?¡± ¡°I... what?¡± ¡°I can make mine any size I wants it to be. Or has more than one.¡± ¡°More than one what?¡± ¡°Dicks? Nothing like being a double-dicked Unicorn, eh?¡± ¡°You are fowl mouthed.¡± ¡°Am I? I never noticed.¡± Quaraun was trying to concentrate on what BoomFuzzy was saying, but the effects of the drugged apricots were clouding his mind, and the fact that BoomFuzzy had just slipped his hand inside Quaraun¡¯s robe and was running is fingers in circular motions on the Elf¡¯s belly, was distracting him. ¡°Of course dere be not¡¯ing like ramming a unicorn horn up ya wee lil ass.¡± ¡°You¡¯re insane.¡± ¡°Aye. We does is. Haha! ¡°Yeah, I can tell... ¡°And We does likes unicorns. We would loves to fuck ya wid a unicorn¡¯s horn.¡± ¡°I... I...¡± ¡°And now We does has gone and put dirty images in ya wee lil head. We does can sees ya t¡¯inking about what it might feel like to be fucked by a unicorn. Haha! Ya wants to be fucked by a unicorn.¡± The candy maker slid his hand down between the Elf¡¯s legs and had begun fondling Quaraun. ¡°I do not want to be fucked by a unicorn.¡± ¡°Ya cock says ya do.¡± BoomFuzzy took a tight grip of the Elf¡¯s erect cock as he said this. Quaraun gasped. He had not expected BoomFuzzy to do that, nor was he certain he wanted BoomFuzzy to stop doing it. BoomFuzzy let go of Quaraun and turned his attention back to the Gnome. ¡°Does de Gnome want to be fucked by a unicorn?¡± BoomFuzzy asked BeaLuna. ¡°What? No!¡± BeaLuna looked horrified by the thought. ¡°Why would you ask that?¡± ¡°Oh, We does asks everybody dat. We does likes to watch de expressions on deys faces. Ya¡¯d be surprised how mony people actually likes de idea and asks me to find dems a unicorn willing to fuck dem. Which We can alwaies do. Ooooh! Ya can gets all de sex ye wants from unicorns. Watching deir faces whiles de unicorn be fucking dem, dat be even better. Best part of all t¡¯ough be watching deir faces, as de unicorn slices deir heads off wid it¡¯s pretty shiny silver horn and den dances in deir entrails, squishing blood all over his purple hooves, den skewering deir heads on me horn and dancing naked in de moonlight.¡± ¡°By the gods! You¡¯re mad!¡± BeaLuna stared at BoomFuzzy, uncertain if he was joking or not. ¡°What kind of a mind thinks thoughts like that?¡± ¡°What kind of a sick mind gets horny whist listening tos me saysing t¡¯oughts like dat, eh?¡± ¡°No one normal, that¡¯s for sure!¡± ¡°Well den, ya wee lil Elf friend here, he ain¡¯t normal den, because me wurds be making him horny as heck over here. Haha!¡± ¡°Quaraun, we should go,¡± BeaLuna said. ¡°This guy¡¯s loony, and your father will be wondering where you got to and I¡¯m gonna ruin my dinner if I eat any more of this house.¡± ¡°Oh take some house wid ya. We does has plenty more. So mony Elves round here. So much lovely buttery sweet Elf flesh to eat. Melt like butter off the bone. So succulent. Than plenty of bones to grind to flour. Make me more gingerbread. Me never meet an Elf who could resist BoomFuzzy¡¯s gingerbread. Elves do love dair drugs. Nothing tastier dan High Elves high on hashish. Gingerbread brownies for the road?¡± BoomFuzzy handed Quaraun a box of said drugged confections. ¡°I... don¡¯t really want to leave yet.¡± ¡°What? Why?¡± ¡°I like BoomFuzzy. He¡¯s...¡± ¡°Hims having too much fun wid me playing wid him dick,¡± BoomFuzzy said to the Gnome. ¡°Run along BeaLuna, we¡¯ve a lusty lil Elf to play with.¡± ¡°Quaraun, let¡¯s go.¡± ¡°No, I like BoomFuzzy. He¡¯s very strange. And familiar. Like someone I met on the road to Ivujivik. Wearing a new skin.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± ¡°King Gwallmaiic.¡± ¡°King Gwallmaiic? The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°BoomFuzzy reminds you of King Gwallmaiic?¡± ¡°Yes. Moon Elf or not, he¡¯s a breath of fresh air, around all these stuffy, stuck up, arrogant Moon Elves who I really don¡¯t like living with.¡± ¡°They lives by de fear dat de devil will chop off dems head.¡± ¡°Elves don¡¯t believe in devils.¡± ¡°Wood Elves do. They believe dey be black devils lurking behind every tree waiting to rip out deir entrails and suck de blood from deir dying carcasses.¡± BoomFuzzy moved closer to Quaraun once again, though Quaraun wondered how that was possible, the Phooka was already so close to him. BoomFuzzy ran his fingers down the Elf¡¯s face. ¡°Yis such a pretty Elf. We doeses never seen a Elf as pretty as yis before. We would love to bed wid ya.¡± BoomFuzzy was close enough now that Quaraun could feel the warmth of the candy maker¡¯s erection pressing against him. ¡°I bed with no one.¡± ¡°Really? Not even Faerie kings on the road Ivujivik? Aye. Yis a Di¡¯Jinn. Ya¡¯re de Phooka loving, virgin Wizard We does been looking fors.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± BeaLuna said. ¡°He¡¯s a virgin. Joined up wid some group dat believes virginity is power and absolutely refuses to have sex wid anyone.¡± ¡°Oh, my! What a fuckingly dreadful life. Dear oh dear oh dear. How does ya stand it?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like sex.¡± ¡°That not what We does recall. We recall ya very much enjoying being fucked un wanting more of it.¡± ¡°I most certainly did not!¡± ¡°Two days ago.¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t two days ago.¡± ¡°What? De sex ya did no enjoy hasing?¡± BoomFuzzy grinned. ¡°Stop confusing me!¡± ¡°Has ya ever had sex?¡± ¡°No. I¡¯m a virgin. It means I¡¯ve never had sex.¡± ¡°Yeah. Yad t¡¯ink it does does it not? Strange lil brain ya got. Ya does no remember much from one day to de next do ya?¡± ¡°Quaraun?¡± BeaLuna answered. ¡°He¡¯s absent minded. He¡¯d lose his head if it wasn¡¯t attached.¡± ¡°Well now. We does no want to be losing t¡¯at now does we, eh?¡± ¡°He can¡¯t remember things, wicked fierce. Tell him something, 10 minutes later it¡¯s like he never heard you.¡± ¡°Ya really can¡¯na remember one dae ta da next, eh?¡± ¡°No,¡± Quaraun said. ¡°Weird short term memory. I don¡¯t remember a thing I did last week.¡± ¡°So ya might not be virgin un ya would na knows it, eh?¡± ¡°Yeah. Something like that.¡± ¡°How come dat, eh?¡± ¡°There¡¯s a JellyFish living in my head. It ate my brain.¡± ¡°Yeeaaah,¡± BeaLuna said to BoomFuzzy. ¡°About that. He¡¯s kind of crazy. Got drop on his head too many times as a baby.¡± ¡°Then de great Quaraun de Insane, really is insane, yes?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like being called insane.¡± ¡°What would ya have me call ya den? The village idiot? That suit ye better?¡± ¡°Why can¡¯t you just call me Quaraun?¡± ¡°How come for can¡¯na ya just says ya like being fucked by horses?¡± ¡°I...¡± Quaraun was caught off guard by that statement and couldn¡¯t think of a response. The half-Elf reached up to take hold of the collar of Quaraun¡¯s coat, then made no secret of staring at the Elf¡¯s crotch. ¡°Ha, ha. Then how does ya knows iffy ya likes sex or not, when ya can¡¯na remembers iffy yas had it or not? Hmmm? Ya certainly enjoying de attention ya getting from me right nows.¡± ¡°I... I don¡¯t know.¡± Chapter 8 Part 6 of 6: BoomFuzzy and The Gingerbread House That Fell From the Sky Quaraun was trying to remember through the clouds of apricots that were fogging his brain. Part of him remembered the pleasure he¡¯d felt when the Phooka had raped him and part of him was losing all of his memories of everything. BoomFuzzy was looking less Phooka and more Elf and the bloody mansion was looking more sugary and colourful, less bloody, more gingerbready. The big pine trees were melting away into pink fluffy cotton candy. ¡°We never gots to see ya up dis close before," BoomFuzzy said to Quaraun. "It twere sunset when we dids sees ya afore. Never dreamed ya¡¯d be so pretty. Ya can¡¯na knows ya do not likes somet¡¯ing until ya has tried it. Ya should try sex. Ya¡¯d like it.¡± ¡°But then I wouldn¡¯t be a virgin,¡± Quaraun said. ¡°We simply must cure ya of dat horrible lifestyle ya has.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a horrible lifestyle.¡± ¡°He won¡¯t even masturbate,¡± BeaLuna said. ¡°BeaLuna!¡± ¡°What? You don¡¯t.¡± ¡°How would you know?¡± ¡°You told me. I asked. Remember?¡± ¡°Will you stop talking about me like that.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡± ¡°Well it¡¯s true.¡± ¡°Is dat true?¡± BoomFuzzy asked the Elf. ¡°I... you... Yes... but it¡¯s not your concern.¡± ¡°It¡¯s everyone¡¯s concern actually,¡± BeaLuna continued. ¡°See, it¡¯s like this. So, the King doesn¡¯t have a son, and he¡¯s really old. And his younger brother, he¡¯s really old too. Neither of them is gonna live much longer. Well, Quaraun here is the King¡¯s brother¡¯s only son, so they¡¯ve decided Quaraun is gonna be the next King, only the King is expected to have a queen, not BE a queen, and he¡¯s supposed to sire an heir, but Quaraun here, he just refuses to have sex with anyone, even himself, so the whole kingdom is basically in an uproar over trying to get him to fuck with someone so he can find out how much he actually does like sex, even though he thinks he doesn¡¯t like sex, but then, he¡¯s got this problem, where he¡¯s kind of crazy, you know, like how he thinks you have claws, and keeps talking about JellyFish living in his head, so no she-Elf will get near him anyways, because they all think he¡¯s insane, which he is, thus why everyone calls him Quaraun the Insane...¡± ¡°I do have a JellyFish living in my head,¡± Quaraun interrupted her. ¡°And he does have claws. Huge talons. Made for killing and tearing flesh. Fearsome things. You could kill an Elf with a single swipe.¡± ¡°Ha ha! We could. We do. We does. And dat excites ya, Elf.¡± BoomFuzzy¡¯s eyes went down to Quaraun¡¯s crotch. ¡°Quite a bit. Do ya like being tortured, Elf? In me experience de t¡¯ought of ripping someone¡¯s t¡¯roat out do¡¯na often excite a Elf, but it excites ya. Oh! We does likes ya more every time We does see ya. But ya still see me claws? Huh? Even after 5 apricots. My. My. Oh dear oh dear. Ya really are a powerful Wizard. Maybe more powerful den me Gibedon. That do be a problem.¡± ¡°Each time we meet?¡± ¡°Aye.¡± ¡°Do I know you?¡± ¡°Not like dis ya does no. Ya a Elf wid a dirty mind. We could has fun wid ya. Oh, We would gladly take up de job of teach ya to like sex. We does not t¡¯ink it would be dat hard considering de erection yis hasing right here un nows.¡± BoomFuzzy moved closer to Quaraun, which Quaraun had not thought was possible. The tiny Faerie-Elf, stood on top of Quaraun¡¯s feet again then went up on tip-toe, hugging his neck, to try to look Quaraun in the eye. Quaraun gasped as he felt the Faerie-Elf press his groin tight against Quaraun¡¯s. ¡°We does no t¡¯inks it would be very hard to take ya virginity from ya. AGAIN. We could do it right now and ya¡¯d just stand dere and not stop me. We would do it right now, except We needs ya to keep it a smiggin oov ah wee bit a longer. Got a job for ya. Need a virgin Wizard to dos it for me.¡± ¡°Are you sure I still am?¡± ¡°A virgin?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Referencing de last time we meet? Apricot?¡± BoomFuzzy pressed his lips against the Elf¡¯s ear to whisper. ¡°That were rape, just because ya liked it, does no make it count. A ya did like it. We does knows dat.¡± Then BoomFuzzy slide his hands down Quaraun¡¯s back stopping to grasp a tight grip on his hips, holding the Elf in place while he humped on him like a dog in heat. Quaraun was too flustered to know how to respond. The last thing he had expected was for BoomFuzzy to hump against him like that. BoomFuzzy laughed and let go of Quaraun, then backed away from him. ¡°Ya has such pretty bonny blue eyes. Ha! ha! Yis in shock over me ain¡¯t ya.¡± ¡°You... your... very bold.¡± ¡°Un ya very pretty.¡± ¡°What are you?¡± ¡°I a horny Faerie who wants to fuck a Elf.¡± The apricots were having a bigger effect Quaraun than he wanted to admit. He was starting to realize the Faerie had tricked him into eating it¡¯s food and now was fighting to separate the reality of what was with the reality as the Faerie wanted him to see it. ¡°We a shape shifter. We does can be whatevers ya wants me to be. Whatever makes ya horny, We does be it. Anyt¡¯ing dat gets me in ya bed, dat We be.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t act like an Elf.¡± ¡°Oh... nooooo! Ha ha!! Ya already saids ya t¡¯ought We is a Faerie. Oh! Does dat boder ya? Here. Have ano¡¯her apricot.¡± Quaraun took the fruit then placed his hand over his ear. The one the Phooka had bitten. The wound was not yet fully healed. Quaraun started telling himself to remember the wound and not get lost in the illusion. He looked around at the Elves who were sitting around on the ground eating pieces of the cake house. ¡°Apricots.¡± Quaraun looked down at the fruit in his hand. ¡°What have you done to me?¡± ¡°Ya was telling me, somet¡¯ing about ne¡¯er taking food from Faeries before. Ha! Ha! Forget dat rule of yars? Bragged ya was ever so careful to never eat Fae food. That dere in ya. That be apricot number seven.¡± ¡°The King rides ahead of his army,¡± Quaraun whispered to himself. ¡°Takes the form of an Elf, lives in the village, puts them under a trance and then kills them all.¡± ¡°Hows dat, eh?¡± ¡°We meet before.¡± Quaraun was now trying to keep the real memories alive. ¡°Aye.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the Elf Eater.¡± ¡°Aye.¡± ¡°And you admit it?¡± ¡°No reason not to. Ye de only one in Inuvik what can save dem. They is already eaten me food and yis too pissed at dem to save dem.¡± ¡°Why are you here?¡± ¡°Found me an Elf I want to fuck.¡± ¡°I¡¯m a Wizard of the Di¡¯Jinn order. I fuck no one.¡± ¡°Ya deeply enjoyed hasing me inside ya. Does ya deny dat, eh?¡± ¡°No, but it won¡¯t happen again.¡± ¡°No? ha ha! We see about dat.¡± ¡°And you laugh.¡± ¡°Aye. Do ya not?¡± ¡°No. Elves don¡¯t laugh.¡± Quaraun was trying to find inconsistency to help him remember what was real and what was an illusion. ¡°Does ya claim to be an Elf?¡± ¡°We have that beaten out of us before we can walk.¡± ¡°Really? Ya poor t¡¯ing. Ya never laugh? Ever?¡± ¡°We don¡¯t laugh. We don¡¯t smile. We don¡¯t cry. We¡¯re not allowed to. To show emotions is weak. We force all emotions as deep below the surface as we can.¡± ¡°Hmm-uh. Yeah. That be not happening for me. We does loves emotions. Emotions is good. Me parents tried dat wid me. It dids no go over well. So dey abaundonit me and left me by me lonesome in de woods. They t¡¯ought it would teach me a lesson.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°And did it?¡± ¡°No. But it dids teach dem a lesson.¡± ¡°How so?¡± ¡°We does ates dem.¡± ¡°You... Ate.... you ate your parents?¡± ¡°Aye. And dey never dids bully me again now dids dey? They could¡¯na, not whiles deys was chopped up and inside me belly. Well We does ates me father, after he gone done killeds me moder. He ate me moder, so technically, We does only ates him, but dey bo¡¯d ended up in me belly, seeings how he ates her before We does ates him. We is like dat auld woman who swallowed de fly. Never not knows why she did swallowed dat fly, perhaps she die, eh?¡± ¡°You¡¯re insane aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Aye. That We is.¡± ¡°I hate Faeries.¡± ¡°Here, have a chocolate cloustered apricot. It twall do ya good. Loosen up dat stiff auld brainless mind of yas.¡± ¡°One should never accept food from strangers. You never know when it might be enchanted by Faeries.¡± ¡°Wise advice. Yis not as stupid as most of de Elves around here. We does like dat. Here. Apricot.¡± BoomFuzzy handed Quaraun the same apricot, but from the other hand and that time he took it and ate it and did not seem to notice he had. The spell that had captured everyone else in the village was slowly enveloping Quaraun, clouding his mind, effecting his judgment and causing him to not fully be aware of his true surroundings any more. The gingerbread house became more real and the forest and horses faded from his eyes. The oak trees lot their bloody fruit and cheerful pink cotton candy fluttered in the breeze instead, as reality slipped away and BoomFuzzy¡¯s spell sucked Quaraun in. ¡°I¡¯m a Wizard. Unlike most of the idiots in this town, I have an education. I¡¯m not an illiterate dolt who takes candy from strangers who appear out of no where with a gingerbread house, that should have taken weeks to build.¡± ¡°Ahhh. The Wizard of de Moon Elves. Aye. Then ya should be Quaraun. I has heards of ya.¡± ¡°You keep asking me the same questions over and over.¡± ¡°Aye. Apricot?¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Waiting for apricots to take full effect on yis brain. Ya answers is changing.¡± ¡°You¡¯re drugging me.¡± ¡°Yis eating me apricots, any ways, no?¡± ¡°I am.¡± ¡°They say Yis de best at what ya do and We does has a job for ya.¡± ¡°What is it, they say I do?¡± ¡°Ya makes genie-bottles. Ya capture demons and devils and disembodied souls.¡± ¡°That is my specialty, yes.¡± ¡°We does needs one. No. That be not right. We does needs t¡¯irteen of dem in fact.¡± ¡°Thirteen genie-bottles? Why?¡± ¡°Where We does come from, our village is plagued by t¡¯irteen evil spirits. We has tried everyt¡¯ing. We is at our wits end to get rids of dem. Then we hear tell of an Elf, in de frozen lands of de Deep North, pure and innocent, free of all corruption and sin, and wields power like none other, in a village in a valley of ice and snow, he be de most powerful Wizard de realm has ever knewed, and de t¡¯ing he is knewed for is building items to contain ot¡¯er items in such a way, dey nevers escape. Items dat is endowed wid such strong magic dat no one can ever breaks dem. The bottles he builds is indestructible. We does has seen one. We does dids tested it. Ya has very strong magic, Elf. We does cames here looking fors ya. We does want to order t¡¯irteen of dem.¡± ¡°Most people can¡¯t afford even one of my magic items. And you want thirteen? Can you afford them?¡± ¡°Aye. We does can.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not cheap.¡± ¡°Un We not poor.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t accept illusionary payments from Illusionists.¡± ¡°Is dat want ya t¡¯inks We does be?¡± ¡°You are yourself a Wizard. And a Faerie. You¡¯re a trickster and a shape shifter. And I can see through your illusions. I think the others around here, see you and your house different from I do. You are not an Elf. You¡¯re not even a half-Elf. They think you are. Your magic strong, and they can¡¯t see you for what you are, but my magic is stronger, and I can see that you are a Faerie. And I don¡¯t like dealing with Faeries. Faeries are not trustworthy. Faeries lie. And Faeries pay in gold coins that crumble away into feathers and dust. Your kind makes chocolate out of poison mushrooms, and gingerbread out of toadstools.¡± ¡°And eggnog out of poppies, Here? Eggnog?¡± Quaraun took the mug and stared down at it, then continued talking. ¡°It¡¯s poppy milk disguised as eggnog. Everyone in the village has been eating your house and are trapped by your spell now. You¡¯ll have to pay me, in something that is more real than your house, candies, and nog are, Faerie.¡± ¡°We does likes ya. And We does can pay ya in real gold. In de Realm of Fae, We does be King. We does be King Gwallmaiic of Pepper Valley. We does has pet dragon back at home on Fire Mountain and a Leprechaun for a manservant. We does has a lot of gold and jewels. Fat lot of good it does me. We does has no family. No one to love me and love in return. All de gold in de world, can¡¯na buy love. Ya name ya price, ya shall has ya gold. Say ya¡¯ll be me lover and We can gives ya de world. We can ya knows. And ya wants dat or ya did a long time ago.¡± ¡°You¡¯re lying about the thirteen spirits.¡± ¡°Is we?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°How ya tell?¡± ¡°Why are you here, really?¡± ¡°We is building an army of Liches and We am a fait¡¯ful servant of de pretty pink Jellyfish dat wished to rule de world. We does do anyt¡¯ing for her.¡± ¡°You serve the Sacred Pink JellyFish?¡± ¡°We does be madly in loves wid her.¡± BoomFuzzy took hold of the Elf¡¯s hand, in both of his and began to gently stroke Quaraun¡¯s soft flesh. ¡°I am de King over every King of Fae. King over nearly all de non-Fae kings. The Grand High Emperor of de Triple Planets is my King. I wish to serve him.¡± ¡°And you think that is me?¡± The candy maker knelt at Quaraun¡¯s feet, still holding his hand. ¡°I knows it is ya. I has had me a taste of ya blood. I knows what lifes inside ya. Love me and I will be yar slave.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t accept Human currency.¡± ¡°No?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°What yis take?¡± ¡°While the Common Elves use whatever currency is used by local Humans, we High Elves use gemstones as currency.¡± ¡°Gemstones? Like diamonds un rubies?¡± ¡°Not just the high end stones like diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, but also the more common stones like quartz, amethyst, obsidian, tourmaline, mica, pyrite, lapis, and jade. High Elves in coastal areas also use sea shells or coral or smooth white beach pebbles. Humans and Common Elves tend to use metals: gold, silver, copper, melted into coins.¡± ¡°What ya want?¡± ¡°Tourmalines.¡± ¡°Tormy-lins?¡± ¡°Pink ones.¡± ¡°May I ask but one t¡¯ing?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Do no break me spell. The Moon Elves is a haughty lot. Proud arrogant and very bigoted against Faeries. Do ya t¡¯inks I could of walked into ya wee lil village as a Faerie and not been killit deid on sight?¡± Quaraun suddenly laughed. He had suddenly gotten a marvellous idea how to annoy his father. The Faerie let go of the Elf¡¯s hand uncertain why Quaraun had laughed, fearing the Elf rejected his offer. ¡°I t¡¯ought ye Elves dids no laugh?¡± ¡°We¡¯re not supposed to, but your apricots seem to make me feel...uhm...¡± ¡°Less inhibited?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± BoomFuzzy stood back up. ¡°How come for does ya laugh?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got nearly the whole village under a spell, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Aye.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know why I didn¡¯t think of that myself.¡± ¡°Eh?¡± ¡°Nothing. You caught me on a bad day. Up until yesterday I had long hair and I didn¡¯t dress like this.¡± ¡°Meaning?¡± ¡°Meaning you¡¯re right. A Faerie would have been killed on sight. And my father would have given the order. Nothing would spite him more then me helping a Faerie. If you stay in our village, keep people drugged under your Fae Food Glimmer spell, I¡¯ll make your genie-bottles.¡± ¡°Ya want me to keep dem drugged?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°What of de rest of me request?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll think about it. I don¡¯t keep lovers. We don¡¯t reproduce that way. You do excite me. I don¡¯t know why.¡± ¡°Ya living in de body of an Elf. No matter what ya Jelly body did before, yis subject to de desires of de Elf body¡¯s flesh now and an Elf needs de physical love of a companion. Ya¡¯ll not survive long n de body of an Elf dat shuns sex. Elves is very sexual beings. They t¡¯rive on sex. They make bad choices as a host body for Thullids seeking sexlessness. But, Ya has troubles wid ya father?¡± ¡°Yes. He burned my pink dresses and cut my hair and is now demanding I find a sister marry.¡± ¡°Burned ya dresses?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t very much like being a male.¡± ¡°Ya does no like being male?" "No. I as a female in the ocean." "Ocean?" "I''m still female. ZooLock stuck me in a male body." "Ya does no like dat?" "No. I like this body. I just don''t like how everyone gets upset if I dress like a female while living in his body." "Ah! De wee Jelly be talking, eh? Oh, I t¡¯inks I is gonna like ya a lot.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been passing for female for several years. It''s not too difficult in this body. He doesn''t much look male to begin with. Is that a problem?¡± ¡°Ohhh, no. No! Not a problem. Not a problem at all. I prefer it actually. I t¡¯inks I likes ya more every minute. So Yis saying dat before today, ya looked like girl.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°I love it. Yis a rebellious lil Elf ain¡¯t ya?¡± ¡°I am deeply and utterly annoyed by the people of this village.¡± ¡°There be Elves around here ya no like?¡± ¡°An infinite number of them.¡± ¡°Anyone else in dis town ya does what ta kill?¡± ¡°What?¡± Quaraun was taken back by the Fae¡¯s question. The strange unElf, wrapped his arms around Quaraun¡¯s neck and stood on tip-toe to whisper into his ear: ¡°There be more den one way I can pays ya. I is an Elf Eater. I eats Elves. I twould gladly get rid of any problem Elves for ya.¡± Quaraun wasn¡¯t really listening to what the Fae-Elf-creature was saying. He was too busy thinking about the erection he was having as the creature was pressed up against him. ¡°Gwallmaiic...¡± ¡°Call me BoomFuzzy. And ya t¡¯oughts is elsewhere right now ain¡¯t dey?¡± BoomFuzzy ran his hand down Quaraun¡¯s chest, across his belly, stopping over his erection. ¡°I can pay ya¡¯s like dat too. Haha! Yis a very pretty Elf. I would no mind paying ya¡¯s like dat at all. And Yis ready for it right now. Would ya come into me house? Lay in me bed wid me?¡± ¡°That¡¯s rather bold.¡± ¡°Sos this.¡± BoomFuzzy squeezed Quaraun¡¯s cock and made him moan. ¡°Yis very ready for it.¡± ¡°I should go.¡± ¡°Oh please do no go. Please come in and let me relieve ya tension. It twall only take wheen minutes.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± ¡°Ya can.¡± ¡°I... no... I already told you. I am a Wizard of the Di¡¯Jinn order. I¡¯ve never been with anyone before.¡± ¡°A Di¡¯Jinn? Aye. Yis a virgin." Di''Jinns are always virgins." "Except when dey ain''t?" "What do you mean?" "Yis t''inks yis virgin. Or at least ya t¡¯inks yis. I keep forgetsing. Oh my. I like virgins. But Yis a Di¡¯Jinn. Oh my. Ya was wid me only a week ago, dids ya forget how much ya enjoyed me riding ya. But ya did lifes wid dem. I remembers. No wonder ya wee lil magic is powerful. The Di¡¯Jinn be formidable. That explains de power of yar magic. Ya must not has sex den. I needs de t¡¯irteen genie bottles made to be as powerful as de one I tested. Pity. Yis such a pretty, Elf. I twould love to sink me rod between yar creamy white thighs.¡± ¡°I have to go.¡± ¡°Will ya make de bottles?¡± ¡°Yes. I will need specific details on what type of spirits they are to hold. I¡¯ll come back for those later. When you are less... horny... and I am less drugged.... and wanting you to... I gotta go.¡± ¡°I shall be waiting for ya¡¯s to come back.¡± BoomFuzzy continued to fondle the Elf. ¡°I have to go.¡± ¡°Apricot for de road?¡± ¡°These are drugged.¡± ¡°But ya keep taking dem?¡± ¡°I know.¡± ¡°How comes dat, eh?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Well den. Ya trot on back home and clear ya head. Do¡¯na stay away long. Ya knows where I is and me bed is always open for ya.¡± ~o0o~ Chapter 3 Part 1: I Am Not Insane ¡­Five Years Earlier. . . gritty, slummy, crime filled, gang infested side of town. His addiction to Faerie Wine and Poppy Tea kept him in such places, though he hated the public houses, he could not tear himself aware from the siren call of glistening Green Absinthe Fairy Wine, the Milky sweet opium tea, or the hashish hookahs, so readily available in these places. Of the three, it was the Fairy Wine that keep drawing him back. But every life time was always the same. Quaraun and BoomFuzzy always meet. The Di''Jinn always died while trying to kill the Unicorn. The Hanging Tree always happened. Gibedon always tried to assassinate BoomFuzzy. Quaraun always killed Gibedon. BoomFuzzy always commit suicide. The details were always different. The dates, not always the same. But the events could never be stopped.
"Wanted dead or alive, preferably dead."
a Moon Elf. a wizard.
"Quaraun the Insane"
Quaraun would share a room with one or two others, but it was rare. He would have to find some place else to sleep tonight. were common behaviours for Quaraun when he was stressed. The Humans on the far side of the room were getting loud and rowdy. Rowdy and loud. It was stressing Quaraun out. Quaraun clutched his pink Thullid silk scarf, holding it to his face, rubbing it on his skin, his eyes closed. The scarf as soft as a baby''s skin. The feel of the soft silk on his skin comforted him and eased the tension being in this noisy tavern had caused. His long hair coiled tightly around his body, hugging him. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
"Soul bound Elf driven to madness by broken bond."
"Sodomite. Murderer. Necromancer¡­."
"Master of DiJinn Magic. Grants wishes. Raises dead. Commands Demons. Can control any dead object, including dead trees and objects made of wood. Master of the Undead, builder of Liches. Is the Necromancer who created the Lich Lords. Carries the head of Gibedon. He has in his possession: * a DracoLich, * a school of flying zombie goldfish, * and a flock of vampire turkeys. Is able to stop time and travel forward and backward to the past and future. Does not need a weapon to kill. A wizard of unusual and illegal powers. Can levitate. Uses his hair as a weapon. Beware of his hair. His hair is incredibly dangerous. Gets his powers from his hair. Removal of his hair is the only way to subdue him. Does not require the use of spells, rituals, gestures, or words. Like a Thullid, Quaraun cast spells psychically via thoughts; He needs only think it to make it happen instantly.
No one had even loved him, not even his own mother. He never knew love. He didn''t know how to love. He had needed love. Wanted love. But when love finally entered his life, he couldn''t accept it. Did not fell he deserved it. He had needed help, but he was too proud to ask for it. To scared to let anyone know how weak he was. Too depressed to admit to anyone, how lost he felt. . He was in a low point and he couldn''t see a way back out. He told himself to try to remember the people in life who cared for him. Chapter 3 Part 2: I Am Not Insane leader and founder of The Wizarding Guild. is new," Quaraun muttered to himself. "I never got attacked at this tavern before in any of the previous lifetimes. Something has changed. History is not repeating itself. I don''t know if that''s good or bad. Either way, it means I don''t know what will happen next. Or what to expect. I best be careful than." sat dazed on the hard cobblestone road, holding a bloody handkerchief over his mouth, and contemplated why it was this time was different, trying to figure out what it was he could have done which had caused this change of events. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Finderu lives here?" NOT dressed like a prostitute." Chapter 4: Kelim the Toadstool Pixie Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Chapter 5: Trapped Underground ~o0o~ Eight years earlier. . . "Why am I sprawled on the ground? I am covered in dirt. On my back. Why am I on my back? How did I get here?" Quaraun lay on his back, staring skyward into the darkness. At the ceiling. Maybe? Is there a ceiling overhead? "I can''t see. It is so exceptionally dark. I need to sit up. The ground below me is hard and rock like. It hurts. It hurts so bad." Stiff. Uncomfortable. Painful to lay on. "Why am I laying on it? It hurts. I hurt. I ache all over. Where am I? Why am I on the ground? Gravel and pebbles are scraping my skin through my clothes. I hate it. It hurts. Abrasive sand is tumbling around my toes, inside my shoes. It hurts my feet. It hurts my toes. I have sand between my toes. I hate it." When Quaraun couldn''t remember what he was doing, he took t pontificating to rumble through random words, hoping one of them would spark a memory of what he was doing. Failing memory was the worst part of growing old. Quaraun''s failing memory often left him waking up confused, not remembering where he was or how he had gotten there. This was the case today. Quaraun preferred someone to sleep with him, so they could remind him, when he woke up, where he was and what he was doing there. He hated sleeping alone, because he hated waking up and not being able to remember where he had bedded that night. Quaraun tried to remember what he had been doing the day before. Walking, but where? He walked so much, so far, so often, that little difference passed from one day to the next. He had been going somewhere, but where? Why was he sleeping on the ground? Why not in his tent? Or on a bedroll? And why was it so damned dark? And what was he sleeping on? Dirt. A road? "Am I sitting in the middle of the road? Why am I sitting in the middle of the road?" Quaraun strained his eyes trying to see, but it was nothing but pitch black, thick blackness all around. Not a sliver of light anywhere. Nothing to cast shadows. Nothing but total blackness. "Why am I sitting in the middle of the road?" Quaraun asked himself again. "How did I get in the middle of the road? What happened? Where am I? What has transpired? I don''t remember. Why don''t I remember? Why am I outside? Why is it so dark? Is it night? I can''t see anything. Have I gone blind? No. I''ve lost my sight before. Briefly. After being struck on the head. It wasn''t like this. It wasn''t black. It was grey. Foggy. With bursts of colour exploding inside my skull." Quaraun put his hands on his head and discovered this was a difficult task when one could not see where one''s head was. "No. This is just darkness. But there are no stars. No moon. Where is my moon? Have I fallen into a hole in the ground? Am I underground?" Quaraun reached around blindly until he felt a sod wall, and long tree roots. "Oh! I AM underground! How did I get underground? Have I been buried alive? Who would bury me alive? Entombed beneath the earth." Quaraun crawled around feeling the ground as he went, trying to feel something he could recognize. "I can feel dirt and rocks and dirt and soil and dirt and sediment and dust and dirt. And dirt is everywhere. There is so much dirt. I''m dirty. Where is the edge of the trail? Dust is everywhere. And dirt. It''s dirt everywhere. Dirt and dirt and more dirt. I can''t find any anything. Is there anything here? Anything at all. No. I can find nothing. It''s just dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt and dirt and dirt and more dirt! So much dirt. Why is there so much dirt! I hate dirt. Why does nature have to be so dirty. Why can''t it be clean like water?" Quaraun grew increasingly more panicked the more he found nothing but dirt. "Where is the grass? I can''t see. I have dirt all over my hands. Why can''t I find any grass? I need water or grass. Something to clean my hands! I can''t fucking see anything! Why is it so dark? There is no grass. I can''t feel any grass. Where is the grass? Why is there no grass? I need grass. I have dirt all over my hands. Why is it so messy? Where is the grass? My hands are covered in mud. I need to clean my hands. I need some grass for wipe this mud off my hands." "I can feel the dirt, rocks, and dirt, dirt, debris, dust and dirt. And everywhere there is just more dirt. Gravel and dirt and dust. There is a lot of dust. I''m dirty. My hands are dirty. I can feel dirt on my hands. It''s drying out my skin! My clothes are dirty. My shoes are dirty. I have dirt in my nose!" Where is the end of the road? Dust is everywhere. It''s dirty, it''s dirty, it''s dirty. Is there something here? No. Nothing. I can''t find anything. Dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty, not dirty. Why is everything so messy? Where is the grass? I can''t see. My hands are covered in mud. I need to clean my hands. Why can''t I find any weeds? Why is it so dark and there is no grass? I don''t feel the grass. Where is the grass? Why is there no grass? I need hashish. My hands are in the mud, not in the grass. I didn''t feel the plants at all. Nothing. No plants. I don''t feel the grass. I don''t feel flowers. I can''t feel the trees. Dirty and dirty. And gravel. It''s not just grass. I can''t feel any plants at all. Nothing. There are no plants. I can''t feel any grass. I can''t feel any flowers. I can''t feel any trees. It''s just dirt and more dirt. And gravel. And I broke a nail. I hate dirt so damned much. Why does there have to be so much damned dirt? No shrubs grow here. I can''t feel any grass. No ferns. No hedges. No plants. No plants at all. No foliage. No hedges. No shrubberies. No thickets. No briers. No bushes. No grains. Why? Where the hell am I? There are no forests here. I don''t feel any grass or bushes. No fence. No plants. No leaves. There is no fence. There are no bushes. No thistle. There are no bushes. No grains. No fruit. No fence. No herbs. No vegetation. There is no dike. No weeds. No watercourse. No roses. There are no bushes. No brush. No strawberries, no trees. Neither trees nor seedlings can be found. No seeds. There are no bushes anywhere. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless. No trees. No vines. No leaves. There are no banks. No berries. No hedgerows. No herbs. No vegetation. No hedges. No under brush. No brushwood. No roses. No bushes. No brambles. No burs. No trees. I can''t find any trees. No saplings. No seedlings. No timbers. No trees. No trees. No trees. No trees. No trees at all. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless. Where did the trees go? No vines. No leaves. I am not indoors either. No floors. No canvases. No chairs. No tables. No benches. No desks. No floors, towels or chairs. There is no table. No carpets. No bed. No bookcase. No furniture at all. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing! Just dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. Just so much fucking godforsaken dirt. I am outdoors. In nature. In dirty, grimy nature. I should be in my tent. There is no table. No carpet, no bedding. There are no books. There is no furniture. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing, just dirt, dirt left here by God. No. There is no forest without leaves. Why am I not at home? There is no canvas. There is no chair. Without seats without seating, there is no carpet without an office. Nothing. Nothing! I''m waiting for a dirty. . . what is this? Do you feel something? What are you? Wait. What''s this? I feel something. What is this? What are you? It''s wood. It''s not a tree. It''s square. It''s sharp. It has a corner. And OW! Splinters. Now I have a splinter! Damn you! What are you? A beam? A beam, leaned on something. On what? A wall? Are you a wall? Yes. A wall. Wooden. Am I inside? I''m inside. No. How? How am I inside. There''s so much dirt. What is this? Why is there so much dirt inside? It feels like a road, all packed in and travelled on. Busy, busy, like on the highway. No. This is not a highway. I''m not outside. I''m inside. In. . . in what? Am I in a cave? How did I get into a cave? AM I in a cave? Why am I in a cave? Is this a cave? I can''t tell. Where am I? Where did the beams go. I need to feel them again. Something''s not right here. This can''t be a cave. How did I get here? You''re a vertical surface. You can help me up. I won''t have to crawl around grovelling in the dirt any more. If I hold on to the wall and walk along you, maybe I can find my way out of here and back into sunlight. Why is it so damned dark in here? I can''t see a thing. Searching. Probing. Probing. Searching. Through the darkness, for anything that might reveal to me where I am. Piling. Scaffolding. Plank. Joist. Pillar. Rough. Old. Crumbling. Decayed. Decomposed. Mouldered. Rotted. It will collapse. Oh! It''s not stable. It gives if I lean on it. This whole place will fall in on me. Wait. I felt, gravel on the ground. Where was that. Ah! I found you. Cold. Smooth. It''s a crystal. Quartz? Maybe? Or Selenite? These aren''t gravel. They''re gemstones. Am I in a mine? Oh my! Did I fall down a mine shaft? Oh that''s not good. Some mines are miles deep. And have so little air. But a mine! No wonder there is no light. I could be miles underground. By the feel of the stone and dirt and massive timber beams on the wall, it''s gem mine. A Dwarven gem mine. I seem to have found myself in a roughly hewn chamber of some sort. Some sort of cave. Or a tunnel. A sod house, maybe? A mine? Oh. It IS a mine isn''t it? A Dwarf mine? No? Yes. It must be. It has to be. What else could it be? How did I get in a Dwarf mine? I can see nothing, damn it! The shades of stone, dirt and rot from the huge wooden posts hanging from the walls are all the same. Pitch black. Blacker than my string of black pearls. Where are those? I should wear them again. If I ever get out of here. I need to get out of here. The beams feel like scaffolding for mine shafts. I can''t find out for certain in this dank darkness. A tunnel, perhaps? Under a mountain? But to do what? And where? Where am I? How did I arrive here? I simply can not recall. Why can''t I remember? Have I stumbled into a mine shaft? Did I discover a mine by accident? I do not remember. Why can''t I remember? Why is my memory so poor of late. I forget so much. It concerns me greatly that I can not remember in what way or manner I arrived at this place. Did I come here by design? Was I abducted? If so, than by who? And why? And where are they? Why would they leave me alone here? Why can''t I remember how I got here? Or was it a portal? Oh! It could have been a portal! Did I fall into a portal? Oh! I could be any where. Any planet. Any dimension. Any time. Oh! How would I even know? By what means did I come to be here? And where exactly was here? It is dark. So very dark. So very extremely dark. So very extremely, extraordinarily dark. Ah! What are you? Nothing helpful? Time-worn wooden pilings are leaning against walls. I can feel them. And the walls are made out of stone and collapsing clay. Dry clay. Smooth and silky. It''d be good for my skin. I should take some with me, but I''ve no way to carry any. And what was that sound? I hear sounds. I don''t know what they are. I can''t see a thing. I hate that I can''t see. I''m wandering in blindness. Quaraun continued inching ahead, ever so slowly. Deliberately. Reaching out. Hands outstretched. Into the darkness. Touching the wall. The dirt on the wall is thick and dry, barren, parched, but not sandy. It''s. . . powdery. Caked. Clumping. Smoothly textured like talc mixed with clay. Heavy. It smells like the rich dark peat clay found under a forest''s leaf carpet. What a wonderful smell. Dirt would be nice if it wasn''t so dirty. I love the smell of dirt. I just hate how badly it soils my clothes. And my hands. And my hair. Silk is so hard to get clean. This clay smells so nice. If mixed it with water it would feel so nice on my skin. Using his fingers on the earth wall as a guide, Quaraun pursued the passage, hoping to find an exit. Or at the very least, a light. Who knew what is lurking in the darkness with me? Beasts. Monsters. Bandits. There could be dangers lurking all around me. I''d not know to run. Oh my! What was that? I heard something. There is a great abundance of noise. And soil dribbling down from the sod ceiling with every vibration. Distant. Moaning. Rumbling. A mountain that rumbles. Was this a cavern in. . .a volcano? It bears resemblance to a mine shaft, but maybe it''s not. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. I need to listen. For danger. I must take notice of every sound. Be always alert and ready to run. Except run to where? I can''t see a thing. Not one single, solitary thing. If I trip, I''ll break my neck. How am I supposed to run from danger when I can''t even see my own hand? Why the hell is this place so dark? This is the darkest, darkness I''ve ever been in. OW! Damn it! What was that? Stubbed my toe. Now it hurts. I was already hurting enough. Now I hurt more. I didn''t need more hurt. I needed less hurt. Damn darkness. Accursed darkness. Damned accursed darkness. Stupid blackness everywhere. Eternal blackness. Why does it have to be so damned dark in this place? And I''m alone. I hate being alone. I''m just always alone. No body cares. No one. Ever. Not no one. I have no one. BoomFuzzy''s dead. He killed himself. Because I killed Gibedon. I shouldn''t have killed Gibedon. I had to kill Gibedon. Gibedon was going to kill BoomFuzzy. Why did he have to die? I never should have killed Gibedon. BoomFuzzy would still be alive if I hadn''t killed Gibedon. He loved Gibedon. BoomFuzzy loved Gibedon. Why did he love Gibedon? He hid Gibedon from me. He loved Gibedon and he didn''t want me to know. I thought he loved me. I loved him. I loved BoomFuzzy so much. Why didn''t he love me? We were soul bound. I cut my soul in half to be with him. Part of him. Him part of me. I would have loved him forever. I do love him, forever. I''ll always love him. Why did he have to die? Why did he kill himself? I don''t understand. I miss him. I miss him so much. I feel so alone without him. There is so much darkness here. Just everywhere. There could be monsters all around me and I wouldn''t know it. I can''t see a thing. And this tunnel just keeps going and going. It doesn''t end. And I can''t see where I''m going. I got to get out of here. And it''s hot and humid. Dry and muggy. Both at the same time. It makes my lungs hurt. And it makes my head hurt. And my eyes and my throat. It''s so hard to breath in here. It''s so dark and dirty and I hate it. And that smell. Sulphur. But I am so tired. I need to rest. Need to lay down. So tired. Quaraun lay down on the ground and drifted off into a fitful sleep. Though he''d only been awake for a short while, his fear of the dark had exhausted his mind. Quaraun was prone to not think clearly when he was afraid. Prone to panic. Prone to forget, in his panic, that he had supplies with him. Supplies he could use. Like a lamp. And matches to light said lamp. Both of which were tucked away inside the little bag of holding hanging from his belt. Quaraun''s fear of being lost and alone in the dark, was so great, that he had forgotten, where he was, or why he was there, or what he carried with him. And so Quaraun wandered through the caves of Fire Mountain, traumatized, terrified, not knowing where he was or how he had come to be there. Not remembering that he had gone to the mountain, seeking the Obsidian Idol, which sat in the bowels of Pepper Valley''s ancient volcano. The hours slowly ticked away, timeless, in the silence of the darkness, of the subterranean caverns of Fire Mountain''s underbelly. Quaraun slept, passed out on the dirt path. After many hours of sleep, he awoke once again, to find himself still alone, still in the dark, still so deep in the earth, that there was no way to tell day from night. It''s dark. It''s night. Have I slept all day? No. It''s not night. I''m in a mine. Or a cave. A dark, dark cave. Darkness still. There is no light. I need to see something. There is nothing to see. I need light. Without it my mind wanders into its darkest depths, when I can''t occupy it. I hate it. I hate these thoughts. I need to get out of here. There''s nothing to do. Nothing to see. I can''t see anything. My mind is as dark as this damned tunnel that I now found myself wandering in. Where the hell is the exit to this place? How did I even get in here? I need to find a way out, but there''s just nothing! Miles of endless nothing. How long is this tunnel? When does it end? It''s ghastly. Foreboding and ghastly. Ghastly and foreboding. I miss BoomFuzzy. I feel so very alone and abandoned. Just so alone. Alone. Unloved. Unwanted. Left behind. Cast aside. I have no one. I''m going to die down here. Lost and alone. And no one will know I died. No one will know where to look for me. Wolves will eat my body. I''m all alone. Alone. Nothing but darkness all around. The lonesome darkness all around me. Above. Beside. Below. Isolation. Desolation. Seclusion. Dark and morbid. Morbid and dark. The lonely, lonesomeness of how very alone I feel is bearing down heavy upon me in this endless, eternal darkness. Gloom and doom. Doom and gloom. Depressed and forlorn. Ominous and sad. Sad and dismal. The anguish, bitterness, misery, and despair. I can feel it all around me. My depression bearing down on me, worse than ever before. Like a sickly presence I can not escape. It follows me everywhere. I hate it. Why won''t it leave me alone? Day and night. Night and day. Always there. Always watching. Always waiting. Waiting and watching. Watching and waiting. Now, I''m lost in this dark endless cave. I feel the dark depths of despair, crashing down around me. Crushing me heart and soul, body and mind. Mind and body, soul and heart. My soul is cut in half. Half my soul is in BoomFuzzy. And BoomFuzzy''s dead. Half my soul is dead. I''m half dead. Half alive. And lost in the dark. I must escape this darkness. But where? How? I had no idea where I am or which direction in which to go. I am lost and alone, in the darkest cave system I''d ever not seen. If only I had a light. It seemed to Quaraun as though he had roamed aimlessly in this blackness forever. His mind crashed deeper into the depth of fretful depression. Companionless. Despised. Rejected. The darkness around me, left me with nothing to occupy my mind. Alone now, with nothing but my own dark and morbid thoughts. A loud deafening roar, suddenly interrupted Quaraun self pity. He sat silent, his eyes wide, seeing nothing through the darkness. Silent. Listening. Watching. His eyes detected the flicker of light up ahead. The air became suddenly warm. It was very warm. Too warm. Hot even. And dry. It is very dry. The glow ahead flickered in dancing shades of orange. A fire? Is there a fire up ahead? Quaraun quickened his pace. There was a fire. I can smell the smoke. Suddenly, the tunnel ended abrupt. Quaraun hastily fell back and clutched for the wall. His heart raced. The tunnel had ended, yes. And suddenly. Very suddenly. Too suddenly. A sheer drop off. A tall, sheer cliff overhanging the dark nothingness below. I''d nearly ambled off the edge. Quaraun inched his way back to the edge. Slowly. Deliberately. Cautiously. Carefully. Gradually. He leaned forward to peer over the ledge. At the nothingness below. Darkness. Endless nothing. Dangerous blackness below. Ominous gloom above. It was grim and foreboding. Foreboding and grim. I feel so very alone. The lonesome darkness, all around me. Above. Beside. Below. Isolation. Desolation. Seclusion. The aloneness, of how very alone I felt, was bearing down heavy upon me in this endless darkness. Gloom and doom. Doom and gloom. The anguish, bitterness, and despair. I can feel it all around me. Like a sickly presence I can not escape. But the light. . . It. . . I saw a light. I know I did. Where was the light? It is gone. Did I not seen a light up ahead? The glowing flicker of warm orange flames leaping from a fire. Where is it now? Did I imagine it? Surly I had not. It moved. It must have moved. That was the only answer. Yes, it had moved. But how? Has someone carried it away? Or put it out? Does that mean I am not alone? Is there someone else here? Someone perhaps carrying a lamp of some sort? Someone whom had been ahead of me, but had now moved on out of sight? Quaraun got on his hands and knees and ran his fingers along the edge of the ledge. Perhaps there were stairs. Or maybe a ladder. No. Nothing. But now I am on the other side of the tunnel. The other wall. Quaraun stood up, clinging desperately to the wall as he did. Terror filled the terrified Elf''s chest as his heart pounded in fear. I am scared of heights. And cliffs. I''m scared of cliffs. And they are so much scarier now when I can''t see them. Terrified the cliff at his feet would crumble and fall. Tumbling down the side and toss him into the unknown depths of death below. Down. Down. So far down. Into the pits of Hell. Hot. Boiling. Bubbling. Tar pits of Hell. Wait. That''s not tar pits of Hell. It''s lava. Magma. So very far below. I can barely see it. Am I inside a volcano? Where am I? Why can''t I remember? Why is it so hard to remember? Remember. . . . . .any thing. . . Something. Nothing. With his back against the wall, Quaraun inched his way away from the ledge. Away from the edge. Back to the safety of the darkness above. Away from the terror of the darkness below. At least here, there I''ve a solid stone to my back. Solid dirt beneath my feet. Quaraun looked from side to side, straining to see something. Anything. But no. Nothing. Pure, total, blackness. Above. Below. Everywhere. He continued to move, slowly, feeling his way with his fingers on the dirt wall. But Quaraun hadn''t gone far, only a few feet away from the edge, before the wall disappeared. He froze. Terrified. He dare not move. Feeling, the air, I found the other wall. A sharp bend that veered the other way. A tunnel off the tunnel. Heading down. But down to where? I can''t see. This is worse than blindness. Blindness I at least saw foggy grey swirls ahead and glimmering lights behind. No, this, this is nothing but pitch blackness. Empty blackness. As though everything had been sucked into a hole leaving nothing left behind. Quaraun continued inching his way through the darkness search for something, anything. The floor of the tunnel sloped down. Sometimes just a little. Other times steeply, causing him to trip and fall, and tumble forward, landing hard on the ground. The old Elf skinned the palms of his hands as he flung his arms forward into the darkness, trying to break his fall. One such fall was worse than others, as the tunnel, inclined sharply, and Quaraun fell headlong, tumbling and rolling all the way to the bottom. Dazed. Dizzy. Bleeding. Scraped. Bruised. And confused. Quaraun sprawled on the ground for a few moments, before struggling to stand. No. I can not stand. I''m too dizzy. I''ve hit my head, too many times on the tumble through the darkness. Blood trickled down Quaraun''s face from a cut on his forehead. More blood trickled from a split lip. His pink silks, were growing wet from the blood seeping from his scraped knees. Quaraun sat on his knees, clutching his hands over his head, trying to stop the spinning, vertigo sensation that was just now swirling around him. He felt faint. "No. Don''t faint." He said out loud. "Stay awake." He tried again to stand. Slowly this time. Dizziness flooded through him, pounding though his head, like a herd of horses galloping through his skull. Ocean waves, flooding behind his eyes. Quaraun squeezed his eyes shut tight, hoping the swaying he felt would go away. His tentacles wrapped tightly around his body, hugging him, comforting him. By the gods, what is that? He had no time to think. No time to react. A giant, glowing yellow-orange slug, the size of an elephant, came barrelling through the wall. The wall shattered and crumbled around it. Blazing hot lava-slime, dripping with golden orange acid, burned through the wall, melting the rock. A Lava Slug! Good god. I didn''t any still existed. Quaraun scrambled out of the path of the massive, peaceful behemoth as it made it'';s way through the mountain, making new tunnels as it went. "Argh!" Quaraun woke up. He sat blinking and looking around. He had fallen asleep slumped over the table. He tried to remember where he was. Ghirardelli''s hovel. Yes. That''s it. That''s where he was. The dark cave had been a dream. A nightmare. Only a dream. No. Not a dream. A memory. Of Fire Mountain. Home of King Gwallmaiic. The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. BoomFuzzy. Years ago, Quaraun had gone to Fire Mountain, and became lost in the mass network of Lava Slug tunnels. That was when he had acquired the glowing crystallized Lava Slug poop. which he now used to light the room he was in. The sulphuric order the crystal gave off, had triggered memories of being last beneath Fire Mountain, causing him to dream, nightmarish memories of his time list in the darkest depths of the mountain''s caverns. years earlier. . .. Disappearing into the mists from which it had mysteriously immersed, the mountain proved itself difficult to find. It was said that Quaraun could find it. And because it was said that Quaraun could find it, a fellow wizard, whom Quaraun had never met before, had commissioned Quaraun to seek out the mountain. Chapter 6: The Pleco Eyed Sheep Demon This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. you are highly attracted to. You like this form. You finds it wicked attractive, so I keep it, more often than most. If you wanted a female, I would be a female. Had you wanted an Elf, I would been an Elf. I hate Dwarves, but had you wanted a Dwarf, I been a Dwarf. I can be any gender of any race of any species you desire me to be. I''ve been testing out a lot of different ones on you for a lot of years now." was wearing, last time I saw him, in the desert of the Di''Jinn, before my unicorn arrived. You remind me of ZooLock and BoomFuzzy the Unicorn. I miss them both." Chapter 7: Drunk Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. the unicorn. sound thudded, dully through the house again. Chapter 8 Part 1: A Dark and Stormy Night at a Tavern in Pepper Valley ~o0o~ THREE YEARS EARLIER. . . . . . IN THE FRONT BAR ROOM OF AN INN, SITUATED IN A SMALL VILLAGE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE, SOMEWHERE IN THE FORESTED COAST OF MAINE. . .. The Great Gale of 1846 had just arrived in Saco Bay and Quaraun, was seeking shelter for the night: "Do you have a room for hire?" Quaraun asked the innkeeper. "We do," the innkeeper answered. "Four." "Four rooms?" "Four rooms. Ten beds a piece." "Tens beds? In one room?" Quaraun did not conceal his disgust at the suggestion of ten beds in a single room. "Aye-yep. And if we are full, which we are, it being harvest time, you see. All the transient potato, blueberry, and orchard pickers are here for a few weeks. But in busy fall season, like now, ten beds per room ain''t enough, so we lease space for mats on the floor. Hay provided for under the mats. You furnish your own bedroll." "I see." Quaraun looked around at the crowded room. Busy season was an understatement. Dozens of the apple orchards'' harvest hands sat around the inn''s public room. Some talking. Others drinking. Most, like Quaraun, were only in here to wait out the hurricane. The massive storm slammed the Gulf of Maine and trapped itself in Saco Bay, dancing circles through the massive sandbar horseshoe. Four hundred acres of apple trees bordered the largest of the Saco Bay beaches. And if this storm had any say in the matter, most of Maine''s apple harvest will have floated away in the Atlantic Ocean by morning. Most of America''s entire apple production grew on this one beach. The livelihoods of near every family in the area depended on the sale of the apple harvest. To lose the apple harvest, days before it''s sale to the out-of-state merchants, would devastate the economy of every town in this region. Merchants from around the country recently arrived here expecting to load up their ships. The ships owned by fruit merchants lined up along the Saco River Delta. All the merchants waited to load their ships'' hulls full of apple barrels. They too gathered in the room, worrying about their ships, fearful of losing not only their cargo, but their ships as well. This topic of conversation spewed from every labourer and transient picker in the room. Hurricanes rarely reached this far north, but when they did, they hit hard. No one expected the storm. No one knew it was coming. Quaraun struggled to understand the Human astonishment over the storm''s arrival. In his mind, it had been easy to see the storm was on its way. Crickets stopped chirping their night time songs several nights ago. Sea gulls, pigeons, hawks, ducks, geese, and shorebirds flew inland, fleeing the coast in droves. The brackish, salty smell of the ocean permeated the air with the sharper, heavier, rotten egg stench of sulphuric gases being churned out of the gravel. While, the already thick coastal fog became denser with each passing night. The normally cool autumn air had become hot, thick, and humid days ago, making every sweltering day unbearable. These signs and many more told Quaraun an enormous storm was brewing. How had the Humans not detected the signs this storm was coming? These uneducated, backwoods Humans were all so dreadfully unprepared for this. Quaraun marvelled that a species as stupid as Humans could massively spread across the planet like an insufferable plague of parasites. He concluded that their stupidity was precisely why they were becoming so over populated. They were too stupid to know how to do anything other than fuck each other. The old Elf listened to the Humans in the room talking and marvelled at the levels of their sheer stupidity. Quaraun predicted the storm''s arrival a week before it showed up. But he never considered that Humans lacked skill in deciphering the symptoms of weather. Being an Elf, reading signs of nature was natural for him. His soul''s proximity to nature made it difficult for him to remember that Humans were as distant from nature as he was close to it. Also, being a Moon Elf, especially, made it easy for the ancient Elf to foretell the weather. Moon Elves were born properly adapted to knowing the phases of the moon and its effects on the tides. And thus, Quaraun had known weeks ago that a gale would soon arrive. Thus why he had veered off his normal coastal route and headed inland. Like a tremendous tornado, it raged up the coastline, ripping up every house, tree, cow, horse, and boat in its track and hurling them across the sky. The smell of salted crab and slippery uprooted kelp filled the air. The storm churned up everything laying at the bottom of the sea, and spat it out onto the sandy shoreline. Men, women, and children huddled, frightened, in every corner of the lodge. They feared the building itself would uproot and crush them. The fierce storm beat the walls with every tree, goat, and boulder it could find to throw. Completely oblivious to the rain, there were some children who continued to play outside, while their mothers fussed and worried frantically at the front door of the inn, begging them to come in out of the raging thunderstorm. The high winds whipped their long hair out of their buns and veils. The minister nearest the door raged that demon where carried in on the wind, to tear the cloths off of their women. More men and women were making their way towards the building. Their arms around each other, they bowed their heads and walked on against the wind, barely able to stand. This inn sat several miles inland, away from the coast. When the storm hit, every fisherman, merchant, farmer, and hired hand grabbed whatever they could carry and ran in a mass hoard away from the waterfront. Many stopped here, while as many more kept running further inland. Quaraun listened to the conversations. Farmers worrying about the loss of their apple, blueberry, and potato crops. Merchants terrified for the safety of their ships, precariously bobbing around in the port, knocking against one another, rocking in the raging tides. "Along the way to my friend''s house," one woman said to another. "I saw several lilac bushes in bloom. Just the other day. This time of the year. When winter will arrive soon. Can you imagine? I told her it was witchcraft and do you know what? She agreed with me, that''s what. It a bad omen telling us that witches are in the area. Lilacs got no right to be blooming this time of year. Spring flowers they are. But we had an Indian Summer we did, just last fortnight, and it caused all the spring flowers to bloom, when they should bury their heads under the leaves and getting ready for winter. Damned Indians cursed us with this heat all over again. Witches. Witches and Indians. Bastards. Every one." "It''s a hurricane," Quaraun interrupted the woman. "A what?" "It''s not a curse from witches. It is a tropical storm, from the south. That is why it has been so hot. No one sent a curse to your town. This kind of weather is normal down there. Winds shifted and sent it up here. Hurricanes happen in these parts about every ten or twelves years. Just because they are uncommon up here in the north doesn''t mean they were caused by witches or curses. There are no witches involved in this." "Are you from the south?" "No, but. . ." "Than you got no business telling us what the south is like, do you?" "I have been there. I resided in the cloud forests of Rupa-Rupa for a few years." "What sort of gibberish nonsense, childish baby talk is that?" "Rupa-Rupa? It''s a country in Peru. In the Amazon Forest. In South America. I lived with the Indians down there and they are nice people. As are the Indians around here." "And I suppose you''ve lived with them filthy savages too?" "I have." "How could you stand living with such horrible, filthy savages?" "They are good people. Not filthy nor savage." "Well, I just find that hard to believe. They live in tents, sleep on the ground. Keep their horses inside with them." "Their horses will survive this storm, while the horses of this town will all be dead by morning. They care about their livestock." "Do you suggest we should bring the horses in here with us? How revolting a notation! Think of the smell!" "You consider not smelling them for a few hours to be more valuable than keeping them alive?" "Horses smell. I don''t see how my husband can stand them. They stink to high Heaven!" "I wonder how your husband can tolerate the smell of you. You madam, stink from having not bathed. You simpletons think bathing is a sin and bath only once a year and you smell bad because of it. The Indians are clean and well kept, unlike the bulk of your white men are. One has only to look around this tavern to see no one in this town even knows the invention of soap happened. I can not fathom how any of you can live with yourselves, let alone with each other. It''s you white Europeans who are evil and full of hate, daning to bring harm to one another. You think just because your own hearts are full of evil thoughts that everyone else''s must be too. Not all people are cold-hearted, bigoted, and cruel like you, you know." "The nerve!" "After I lived in the south, I travelled the coast back up here again. It took me over a dozen years to walk the coast back up here. I saw several hurricanes during that time. They are fairly common in the south. Tropical storms push the heat ahead of them. There is absolutely no magic whatsoever involved in any of this. You shouldn''t blame people for things they didn''t do." "And I suppose YOU would know magic if you saw it?" "Yes, as a matter of fact I would." "An expert in weather and magic? How do we know you''re not the witch who cursed us?" "Madam, I assure you, I am no such thing, nor have I done any such thing." The two women snubbed their noses at him, got up from their table, and stormed across the room, where they could continue their gossip and busy bodying away from Quaraun. Quaraun sighed and continued to make his way through the terrified crowd. He continued to eavesdrop on the conversations as he roomed around the room, looking for a quiet corner to sit in. One preferably free of Humans. The problem with being the last Elf on the planet was, there was no one but Humans around to talk to. The majority of the crowd, who were not apple growers, were fisherman worrying that dead fish from the storm would pollute the water for months, and leave them with no fish to sell to market. Quaraun felt no concern for the economy of this Human village. The old Elven wizard was just wanting shelter from the rain for a few hours. However, the witch accusation brought up by those two women earlier bothered him greatly. So much so that the pink robed necromancer began listening to see if others had similar ideas. Quaraun was a mage. A wizard. A necromancer. The Pink Necromancer. Deemed the most evil mage to ever walk the earth. And in the minds of most Humans, this made the lonely little Elf a witch. A wizard was just a male witch, by Human logic. And Human logic in this region, stated that witches were evil and must die. They had to be burned or strangled to death. Witches did not deserve mercy. If one was found guilty of such things, they would be burnt at the stake for their crimes against society. The people called them ¡®Witches¡¯. It was a name given to them by their own kind, from whom they came. Drowned. Stoned. Hung. Burned. Crushed. Humans devised many ways of executing witches. And here in New England, killing witches was as common as the white steeple church congregations who did the killings. Witches had no place in this world. Witches were a danger. They were killed without thought for the consequences; they were killed because it was fun to do so. A witch¡¯s life wasn¡¯t worth the cost of one human soul that could be saved by the Lord. It was only the right way to go, so said the ministers. The more attention Quaraun paid to the discussions in the room, the more unsettled and disturbed the nervous Moon Elf became. And the less he wanted to be in this town at all, let alone in its over crowded inn. For the jelly-brained Elf quickly recognized that most every Human in the building maintained a witch''s curse caused this storm. Many spoke of gathering pitchforks and heading into the swamp to kill the local witch and end the storm. "Killing the witch will kill the storm," one man reasoned to another.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. "Aye, we gotta break the curse to save our harvests," agreed the fellow across from him. Several more men cheered in response. Each adding his own comments of killing witches and removing the curse. Quaraun shook his head as he listened intently, not paying attention to what they were saying. He couldn''t listen for more then a few minutes without zoning out, lost in thought, unable to focus on anything but thoughts of being back at his home, back at Ivujivik, back with BoomFuzzy. BoomFuzzy. The memory of BoomFuzzy drove Quaraun to everything he did in his life. Quaraun''s thoughts of BoomFuzzy were broken by a couple yelling. A couple argued about the weather as it was. Another arguing over who would win in a battle between the two. Quaraun felt uneasy. Talk of witches and witchcraft and evil curses filled the room. At every table. In every corner. These frightened people believed a witch''s curse had produced the storm. IA spell that would destroy the earth, kill all living creatures in the land, and then burn down their houses and leave them to wander the streets for years, decades to come. t was a cruel thing, to think such things and to believe them so. No one knew why the storm happened or when it started. All they knew is that it did and they feared for their lives in a way that few ever do. And so it was with great caution that Quaraun walked among them. A young girl with long black hair stood alone on the stairs, her hands clasped tightly around a pillow, as she stared at the wall ahead of her. Her eyes red and puffy, cheeks wet, but tears did not fall. Her terror too great to cry any more as she listened, trembling, to the minster''s tales o demons crawling up out of the earth to reign fire from heaven and slaughter the wicked. A small boy lay on his side with an arm over his face, trying to stifle his sobs and failing miserably. His mother stood behind him, her own head buried into her hands as she rocked back and forth slowly. Both more scared of the minister''s tales of holy terror they they were of the raging storm. Quaraun became more uneasy the more he listened to the hysteria filling the room. Should anyone discover the old pink robed silk merchant was also a mage, they''d murder him. As Quaraun paid closer attention to the conversations, he also realized that all the local church congregations were here as well. None felt safe in their churches as the howling winds ripped up buildings and tossed them into the sea. They feared the monstrous Atlantic waves would sweep away their parishes. Various groups of highly paranoid Christians sat clustered about the lodge. Some praising the lord. Others cursing the devil. All had different reasons to be here. None of which involved Jesus. All glaring daggers at each other. Huddled in opposite ends of the room from each other. Each group keeping their distance to avoid contamination by opposing doctrines. Their hatred for other Christians, more vehement than their hatred for witches. One man was sitting at a table, staring intently at the Bible that lay before him. It was opened to Psalms. He and his wife stared at the page. He didn''t speak. His hand didn''t twitch. He stared in blind silence. Stricken with terror. He''d been frozen in this spot for the past hour. Each religion claiming to be God''s chosen people, while condemning the other sects to eternal damnation. Nothing terrified Quaraun worse than Christians. Especially the extreme, hyper radical, fanatic super-Christians of northern New England. They loved to praise the Lord while also hypocritically slaughtering their neighbours. Praised the Lord, while slaughtering innocent old women on false charges of witchcraft, voodoo, and black magic. Murdering innocent young girls on charges of sorcery, simply for the sin of having been born with red hair or green eyes. Every time the elegantly dressed necromancer set foot near one of these Christians, he risked his life. For Quaraun, hiding the fact that he was a wielder of magic was vitally imperative for his survival. A minister stood in the doorway, casting demons out of the weather. One minister was yelling at a man, accusing him of being a witch, based on the fact the man was chewing tobacco. Another minister stood on a table raving that witches and warlocks walked among them and must be found and executed. He was waving a book over his head as he screamed out lists of ways to tell a witch. At first Quaraun thought the man was reading from a Bible, but as he stopped to listen to the passages, Quaraun soon realized it was not the Bible this preacher was reading. It was Heinrich Kramer''s Malleus Maleficarum. The treatise on witchcraft, and the only book ministers, valued more than the Bible itself. Quaraun cringed as he remembered the smell of burning flesh. He''d walked through towns, where dead witches were left hanging crushed and burned, strangled and mutilated, unburied and on public display. Left as a warning for other mages to stay away. The charred stench of the publicly burned bodies was horrific. It gave him nightmares. The pastor on the table bothered the old Elf quite a lot. Quaraun was a mage, a wizard, a necromancer, and a priest of what this minister would consider a Pagan religion. Listening to this minister brought to Quaraun''s mind many terrible old memories. Thoughts he didn''t want to think. Quaraun just wanted to stay dry. He did not want to be reminded of dreadful events of his past. The Hanging Tree. Memories of his father and the Moon Elves. Horrible memories of their contempt for all things not deemed good and righteous, by their standards. Memories of bullying and teasing, that got out of hand, and led to torture, mutilation, and murder by public execution. Loud, angry mobs. Violent mobs that rose out of fear. Fear deliberately being placed in their minds by radical, charismatic fanatics. Fanatics, not unlike the minister, who right now stood on the table, trying to rile up the locals into witch hating hysteria. It was one of his favourite pastimes. Watching these people react in fear to his words and actions. He loved being the one to break them apart from the inside out. ¡°I know I''m a bit young for such an age of cynicism and distrust," the minister screamed. "But this is a war! This war is not just between two countries, it''s a world of difference between them! The only reason you are here at this time of day is because we need help! You need the help of the Lord to set you free! Free from the witches who hold our town hostage this very night!¡± Fear filled Quaraun''s mind and soul with dread, as he took notice to the minister''s hate filled words, furling hate filled furies, in the angry eyes of the men and women whom had gathered around the terror crazed preacher to cheer him on. Quaraun made a mental note to not let anyone in this area to find out he was a mage. The last thing he wanted was to be huge up in yet another tree. Quaraun pulled his mind away from the radicals and focused on the words of the merchants instead. Sailors. Pirates. Privateers. Scurvy. Rickets. The sea gods, punishing land dwellers, by sending demons to stir up the cold ocean. Goods trapped on ships in danger of sinking. Goods stuck on docks in danger of flooding. Perishable goods delivered to the wrong port, and not being able to get to them because of the storm. The need to take the ships away from shore to save them from being crashed on the rocks. The harvests, not yet gathered, and being mercilessly destroyed by the storm. The need for a miracle, a way out. A chance. Anything that would keep these people alive, keep the ships safe. Money lost. Ships lost to transatlantic gulf winds. Even more money lost. Money being lost seemed to be the biggest worry of the Humans. Quaraun wondered why the Humans worried so much about money. Though Quaraun was quite wealthy and had more money than he would ever need, he also never used it. The wandering wizard appeared to most people to be both homeless and penniless. Humans laughed when the old Elf asked to buy things, thinking he could not afford them, but they then gawked when he dropped handfuls of gold coins in their laps. Quaraun could not count. He knew nothing of math or numbers or years or dates. It was the reason Quaraun never knew his own age or what year it was, or how many days had passed from one event to the next. Why he sometimes said week, when he meant year. Why he sometimes said he was 400 years old and other times said 800. This was also why the old mage did not realize that gold coins were worth much more than common coppers. And also why he did not understand that he was giving Humans way more money than they asked for whenever he paid for anything. Money was the biggest, number one worry these Humans possessed right now. Witches were the second. Superstitions of sea monsters and sirens, mermaids and mermen, silkies and roans. Curses cast by witches. Tales of terrible squalls and suffocating typhoons, sent by evil witches to destroy the mercantile economy, force the people to not buy from grocers and instead buy from charlatan apothecaries. Or so said several of the merchants who, right now, sat in the bar. The conversations of the merchants were not much better than the conversations of the ministers. Equally hysterical. Equally pointing fingers at magic casters. Equally ready to kill any mage in the area in order to end the hurricane and save their harvests. The farmers and fishermen were no better. Tossing around tall tales of sea witches and swamp hags, skulking around at night, poisoning water, killing fish, spiking apples with maggots and rot. This was a superstitious lot. Anti-mage topics were spewing from every table. There was talk of dark elves, of wyverns, and of the Dark Lord. The more people that spoke, the more they seemed convinced of the evil lurking in the forest. There were also talk of demons. Tales of them being the cause of the storms. They said it was some kind of cursed curse. It was clear no one here knew anything about nature or natural sciences, knew nothing of how weather worked, and was ready to tar and feather anyone they deemed a witch. Or wizard. It was clear to see no one here had any idea who either is was, let alone what their role could be in society, let alone in the universe itself. Listening to the overall conversation of the majority of the crowd, Quaraun felt uncomfortable in this inn. Worse, than just being a wizard, he was a necromancer, who practiced blood magic, raised the dead, dealt in soul exchange, and summoned demons. If anyone in this room discovered what he was, these people would turn into a lynch mob fast. Clearly, superstitions and fear of witchcraft ruled supreme in the minds of these people. Several tables sported me, gathering up self-proclaimed adventuring parties to brave the storm, head out into the swamp, and kill the Swamp Hag who lived out there. One orchard grower was shouting, offering to pay top coin for the Swamp Hag''s head, if they could kill her before the storm destroyed all of his crops. Three merchants were haggling over the price of one self-proclaimed mage hunter whom they each wanted working for them and not the other two. The people of this region were terrified of witches and were blaming every ill fated event they meet on one witch: Ghirardelli, The Swamp Hag. The price for her head was being bargained over drinks, as more and more men, stumbling drunkenly forward, bragging tales of how they had once killed this or that witch and were well qualified to rid their town of the scourge that was Ghirardelli. Quaraun knew of Ghirardelli. She was a friend of Finderu''s. Finderu was the leader of The Guild of Wizardry. Ghirardelli and Finderu were responsible for most of the wanted posters of Quaraun. Ghirardelli the Swamp Hag was well respected in the mage community. If she lived long enough, she likely would take over as leader of the Guild one day. Quaraun was looking for Finderu. And if anyone knew where to find Finderu, it''d be Ghirardelli. And thus Quaraun had come to this region looking for Ghirardelli. But Quaraun was old, and in frail health. He moved slowly and walked with a cane. Aching bones and creaking joints kept him from travelling as far or as fast as he would like. And so, Quaraun had wandered these parts for several years, moving from town to town, village to village, swamp to swamp, sea port to seaport, in search of anyone who knew the whereabouts of Ghirardelli the Swamp Hag. Everywhere he went, the story was the same: everyone had heard of Ghirardelli, but no one knew for sure where she lived, or even if she was actually real at all. Many believed her to be nothing more than a bedtime story, parents told to naughty children to scare them into staying out of the swamps at night. And so Quaraun had meandered through the swamps and forests along the coast, searching in vain these past several years for any hint of where Ghirardelli might live. It was by sheer luck and pure accident that he wandered into this random inn and found it rife with the conversation of gathering parties of heroes together to hunt down and kill the infamous Swamp Hag. Heroes. Off to kill the wicked old witch. Heroes. Murders of the innocent. Masters of slaughtering elder women. Elderly women, branded as witches, for no other reason than young people, inherently hate the elderly. Elderly women, murdered at the hands of thug like gangs of gold hungry men, killers for hire, killing in the name of doing good deeds. Skilled at killing the so-called changeling children. Mentally disabled children with learning disabilities, branded as demons and changelings left by Faeries, branded as evil, by incompetent parents who couldn''t be bothered to admit their child was retarded. Easier to claim some elderly woman was a witch, and hire a pack of greedy, bloody thirsty hero to kill them both. Children, branded as monsters, slaughtered by heroes, murdered by killers for hire. Gangs of 4 or 5 men banded together under the guise of being an adventure party. Singing bards and drinking pints, with the blood of the innocent still dripping from their swords. Off to kill the big, bad, terrible monster, returning with tales of glorious conquests. Quaraun had seen plenty of these so-called bands of heroes in his lifetime. There was never a genuine hero among them. Nothing but ravenous packs of bullies, greedy, money hungry bullies, who hired themselves out as warriors to rid your town of evil. Quaraun wondered what made heroes think they were heroic. What was more heroic? Killing the elderly after falsely accusing them of witchcraft? Or killing the mentally retarded children falsely accused of demon possession? Heroes. That''s what every self-righteous killer called themselves. Quaraun found these so-call do-gooders to be the most repulsive life forms of all. Using religion and hysteria as an excuse to commit murder. Though he admitted he couldn''t complain too much without being a hypocrite. Quaraun had killed enough of these adventure parties in his lifetime. They were always adding his name to the list of big bad boss villains in need of battling. He hated them and their ego evilness, that they paraded around as heroics and bravery. Quaraun liked to be left alone, left to do his own thing. Weaving and sewing silk. But he was old, and he had eccentric habits and quirks that branded him as evil. A witch. A demon. Endless groups of warriors, rouges, rangers, bards, and assassins had hunted him down. Travelled great distances to seek him out. Seek him out and kill him. The big bad super boss villain. That''s what they always called him. Idiots. Though Quaraun rarely used magic and preferred to live life as a normal unmagical being, he was, in fact, the most powerful mage the universe had ever known. Foolish Humans. Four or five of them would arrive. Taunt him. Tease him. Bully him. Threaten him. Challenge him to a duel. A fight to the death. Expecting to win. Expecting him not to flay their minds with a simple thought. Expecting him, a psionic Elder Brain, living in the body of an undead Elf, to not obliterate their brains, with nothing more than a blink of the eye, a twitch of the nose, or a wave of the hand. Quaraun''s powers were incomprehensible. In nearly a thousand years of life on this Earth, no one had yet defeated him. They branded him as the world''s most feared evil super villain. The world''s most feared and most powerful sorcerer. And yet these silly bands of Humans, calling themselves adventure parties and heroes, continually hunted him down, expecting to kill him, expecting to take him down, expecting to be the one to defeat the infamous Pink Necromancer. Quaraun shook the thoughts of past adventurers he''d killed out of his mind. Right now, it was more important to focus on the mob like citizens who were organizing groups of adventurers to seek the supposed cause of this massive storm: Ghirardelli, the Swamp Hag. "She''s usually hanging around that Finderu," a man said to his buddies at the table. Chapter 8 Part 2: A Dark and Stormy Night at a Tavern in Pepper Valley The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Chapter 9: Reminiscing of BoomFuzzy The heavy cloud broke open above the tent. The heavy cloud broke open above the little pink striped tent. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Chapter 10 Part 1: The Silk Weavers Tent And so the dripping wet drenched Di''Jinn silk merchant did precisely this, after spending quite some time first drying his long floor sweeping hair. Quaraun listening to the soft hum of the crickets, cicadas, and frogs croaking and chirping and buzzing. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine that he was lying in the soft warm furs that lined BoomFuzzy¡¯s bed. The furs were soft and fluffy and smelled like him, and there was a comforting heat that wrapped around Quaraun when he slept. He wondered if it could feel as comfortable to anyone else, but he never felt more comfortable than with the furry blankets. Feeling BoomFuzzy¡¯s gentle caress, warm flesh and passionate kisses. He tried to remember what BoomFuzzy smelled like. BoomFuzzy had a distinctive scent to him warm and sensual like a mix of honey and moss blended with cloves and exotic spices and peppermint. BoomFuzzy spent most of his hours in the kitchen cooking candy, pulling taffy, braiding peppermint sticks, and rolling chocolate. The scent of sweet spices and pepper weren¡¯t absorbed into his hair, skin, and clothes. A wonderful smell of candy hovered around BoomFuzzy everywhere he went. A few moments later, Quaraun drifted off into a peaceful slumber, to dream pleasant dreams of his youth spent with his lover, BoomFuzzy. "Argh!" Quaraun half screamed from fright and half yelped from pain in his hip, as he felt someone shaking him out of his dream. A newcomer, a stranger, a mature female Human, stood in the eccentric silk weaver''s tent with him, leaned over the dishevelled sleeping silk merchant, shaking him, struggling to wake him. "You gotta help me! Please!" The woman desperately pleaded, almost yelled, while trying to nevertheless be quiet and whisper. "Please, help me!" Quaraun blinked sleepily and yawned, before slowly sitting up and peering around, disoriented and bewildered and trying to remember where he was. It took the tired bleary eyed Moon Elf a moment to recall he was in Pepper Valley, had set up a tent to wait out the deluge, and had now been here in Pepper Valley for ten days, still waiting for the precipitation to stop. He sat and dreamily watched the little silk moths fluttering about the room. The tired jelly brained Elf shivered. His bones ached. His muscles were sore. And the salty ocean air was cold and damp, both chilling him and making his aches and pains more noticeable. The chill from the wet, stormy night air drifted through the tent, chilling him. Quaraun yawned again, then pulled the soft rusty coloured fox fur blanket up around his shoulders before finally focusing on the frightened woman. She looked at him, wide eyed and panicked, eyes darting, as if she expected something to come leaping out of the woodwork. "Who are you?" Quaraun asked. "And why are you in my tent? How are you in my tent? I put up a barrier. You should not have even been able to see my tent, at all, let alone get through to come inside. How did you even see my tent to begin with? It should have been very, nearly, completely invisible to the naked eye." "You gotta help me," she stated, completely ignoring the Moon Elf''s questions. She was shaking from fear and damp and cold. "Why? You seem to be perfectly capable of breaking through magic barriers. That''s not something normal people can accomplish. That is not even something the most competent of mages can manage." "They''re after me." "What? Who is? Whoever it is, they are not likely to find you in here. You are safe in here. In fact, I am surprised you even found your way in here at all." "Please, you gotta help me." "I don''t gotta do a damned thing. Who are you and why are you in my tent and how the hell did you even get through my barrier to get in my tent?" "My name''s Ghirardelli. I''m from The Godforsaken City." "Ghirardelli? The Swamp Hag?" "I''m a Human. I''m not a hag." "Fair enough. But that does mean you are a mage? Does it not? And a powerful one. You''re a Guild member. I recognize your name. I find myself being very weary of any Guild member. Why are you in my tent?" "Some men. . ." she paused for a moment, anxiously eyeing Quaraun up and down. "Wait. Are you a man?" "I''m an Elf." "Elves went extinct centuries ago." "I know," the old Elven silk merchant replied as he reached for his hookah. "I''m the last one." "I hoped this tent belonged to a woman when I came in here. You look. . . you look. . . female. But your voice. . ." Quaraun puffed on his hookah for a few moments before answering the woman. "I assure you I am a male, or at least I used to be before a group of wretches castrated me, regardless of what my features may tell you. Why are you in my tent? What precisely do you require?" "Castrated, you? You mean you don''t have. . ." "Do you want me to show you, exactly what it was that they did to me?" "No. I. . . uhm. . . no. I am so sorry." "About me being castrated or you so rudely trespassing in my tent and waking me up?" "Uhm. Both, I guess. It''s just that I noticed the tent. It was pink and, decorated and ruffles and beads and, I ran inside thinking it was a lady''s pavilion. I didn''t realize. And then I saw you asleep, you looked, I assumed, your hairstyle and your gown and your face, you. . ." "You did what every one does and judged me to be a woman, yes, I understand. I get mistaken for being female all the time. It''s annoying really. You''d think no one in America ever saw anyone from the Middle East before. What do you want?" "Are you trying to uhm. . . are you trying to be a woman?" "No. This feminine face is just what I was born looking like. I can''t help the face and hair I was born with." "And your clothes?" "I''m Persian." "So?" "So? This is how Persian men dress." "Really?" "Yes." "Aren''t those women''s clothes?" "No. These are not women''s clothes. These are not dresses. They are caftans and cloaks and coats. Every man in the East wears them." "In pink?" "Yes. In pink." "Really?" "Yes. It''s the colour of royalty." "Are you royalty?" "I am The Grand High Emperor of The Triple Planets." "You''re an emperor?" "Yes." "Really?" "Yes." "Living in a tent?" "Yes." "With no castle or palace or body guards or. . ." "No. None of those things." "And you wear pink?" "What is wrong with pink?" "It''s a girl''s colour." "I like pink," the ancient pink robed silk merchant stated without further explanation. "You sure do," the woman said as she stepped back away from the Elf and looked around the tent. Everything was pink. Everything. Every stitch of absolutely everything was pink. Every single item. Every detail. Pink curtains. Pink pillows. Pink quilts. Pink blankets. Pink tapestries on the walls of the tent. Pink rugs and carpets tossed around covering the dirt and grass making a soft, pink, plush floor. A small, purple creature with green stripes curled up asleep underneath one of the pillows. floor. It was the only thing that wasn''t pink. It had black wings and it''s scales shimmered blue in the light. It looked to be a miniature dragon. A gold throne with bright pink velvet cushions. As she surveyed the gaudy pink decor, it suddenly occurred to her that this tent was much bigger on the inside than it had been on the outside. From outside it had appeared to be a small little circular marquee, perhaps big enough for one person to sit and sip tea. It was certainly not big enough to lay down or stand up in. And yet, once inside the pink tent, the room was so incredibly vast. And pink. So very desperately pink. Even the moths were pink. Fat, chubby, fuzzy pink moths covered in yellow spots were flying lazily around the tent. Fluffy white silk months fluttered around loose in the tent, as well. After getting over the shock of how overly pink everything was, she suddenly realized how quiet it was inside the tent. So very, dreadfully quiet. It was too quiet in here. The quiet was unnatural. Outside the sounds of the hurricane ripping the forest apart, crashing, clattering, roaring, howling, thunder, lightening, high winds made it deafening to the point of being unable to concentrate. Yet stepping through the cloth door-flap of the tent was all it took for every sound outside to vanish. "What dark magic is this?" The woman whispered under her breath as she listened to the absolute silence. The ceiling tall shelves were lined with books and trinkets and potions. Herbs reducing down to their oil essences, bubbled in various double boilers, while small cauldrons simmered with spices. Stacks on woven reed and marsh-grass baskets were piled around in various places. Some filled with fruits and vegetables, mostly apples and potatoes. Others filled with various sewing, weaving, and embroidery gear. Still others with glass blowing and wood carving tools. Most of them contained various dried herbs and flowers. It appeared as though the Elf made everything himself, from the little wooden tables to the woven baskets, as there were also stacks of partly carved wood and partly woven baskets laying about as well. There was even a collection of clay pots containing different coloured plants. And then there was one table that stood out from the rest, and it had what looked like two large baskets sitting by it. Each basket had several pieces of cloth laid over them, some more elaborate than others. In the middle, however, was one small. From the bamboo tent poles hung hemp braids, full of dried pomegranate and oranges, both stuck full of anise stars and cloves. The heady aromatic aromas of sandalwood and patchouli incense burning filled the air. Braided garlic, nets of red wax dipped cheese balls, strings of dehydrated apple slices, and bunches of dark brown vanilla beans, dried opium poppy pods, and large cocoa pods also hung from the ceiling. Spices, cheeses, fruits, and chocolates were stacked on various tables and clearly made up the bulk of the old Elf''s diet. One pot was cooking what appeared to be wassail. The citrusy, clean smell of boiled orange slices, mixed with the pungent fragrance of anise stars, cinnamon sticks, and cloves, wafted up from the syrupy mixture of spices, cut fruit, and rum. There was a large pot of stew that would have been enough to feed five people for a month already simmering in the middle of the room. And, of course, there was a small pile of white and golden gold coins, each one representing about thirty or forty silvers. Each silver coin held different magical properties¡ªthe power to grant wishes. "There are so many exotic smells in this tent," she said as she walked around opening pots and lifting covers. "That I can not rightly tell where they are all coming from." "Exotic is a matter of perspective," Quaraun stated dryly. He was not amused by this woman''s intrusion of his privacy, nor her refusal to state why she was here, and her snooping around through his things was irritating him and raising his suspicions. "What is exotic to you, is perfectly natural and native to me. It is only exotic because you are unused to it. Please stop touching everything." As she looked around the tent, and could see no source of light, and yet, the tent was as well lit as though she was standing in a dry meadow on a clear, bright, sunny day. A fire was lit under the cauldron and pots, but it was giving off no smoke and not nearly enough light to fill the room. The lack of smoke from the fire and the well lit light from no source alarmed her and signalled even more magic was at work here. "There is no smoke from the fire in here," the woman said. "No," Quaraun answered. "It is vented out." "Is it?" "Yes." "I don''t see how." "What matters is I did it and the air is safe and clean and non-toxic and we can breathe without choking on ash. Does it matter how I do it?" "I suppose not." "Why are you in my tent?" Quaraun repeated his question yet again. "There were men after me," the women said as she continued to nosily poke around the tent, in business that was not her own. "Where is the light coming from?" Quaraun pointed to a glowing crystal, a large quartz-like stone sitting on the table at the centre of the tent. Even the moths were pink. Fat little short wings, feather antennae silk months bounced around the glowing crystal, attracted to its brilliant orange light. "What is it?" Asked the woman as she picked up the large rock and turned it over in her hands. "You really don''t want to know." "Why not?" "It''s feces from the lava slugs of Fire Mountain. Dwarven miners used to use them to light the way in the deepest caves of the Earth, centuries ago, back when Dwarves were still plentiful. The Dwarves went extinct before us Elves did. Pitiful. Only Humans remain." The woman quickly put the glowing, crystallized dung back down and the fluttering moths followed its glow. "Where did you get it?" "From Fire Mountain." "Well, obviously, but what I meant was, how did you get it? Lava slugs are deadly. And massive. Nearly as big as a hippo." "You know what a hippo is?" "Well, yeah. . ." "I suppose the bigger question, should be: How do you know what a lava slug is?"The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "I read about them once." "Most Humans would caulk them up to mythology and not so readily accept their existence. Of course, most Humans can''t see an invisible tent, or walk through a magic barrier, and you did both to get in here." "You''re a witch?" the woman inquired as she examined the rows of kettles bubbling away. "I''m a silk merchant," Quaraun said, stating what should have been obvious, as he continued to nervously smoke his hookah. "I see," the woman said as she peered into the enormous cauldron and found it full of silkworm cocoons soaking in a strange pink liquid. The smaller pots, filled with other shades of pink liquid, each pot a darker pink than the next, and each likewise, also filled with large puffy silkworm cocoons, sat scattered around the larger pot. On the table, near the cauldron, lay rows of bright pink cocoons drying on wire mesh racks. Near those were even more cocoons, these already dried and partly unravelled. The outsides of the cocoons were deep dark pinks, but the dye did not seep through to the worm in the middle, so the innermost fibres were pale pink, almost yellowish-ivory-white. Beside those were racks of long wooden poles, from which hung lots of filaments of variegated pink silk yarns. It was easy to see how Quaraun achieved the delicate striped pattern of his striped pink silk cloth, when one saw how he dyed the cocoons before unravelling them. "These are dyes?" she inquired, pointing to the smaller boilers filled with herbs. "Yes. I dye my silk threads with them." "I''ve never seen silk woven like this before." "Have you ever even seen silk woven before?" "Yes. Once. Years ago. A local tailor had ordered some silk thread to weave a shawl with. She said silk was too slippery to work with so, she never did it again. But, you don''t order the thread from elsewhere. You''re making it. You make your own silk threads." "Yes. I raise my own silk worms." Quaraun pointed to the many bamboo aviary cages stacked to the back wall of the tent. These were filled with shrubs, covered in mass hoards of caterpillars chewing at the leaves. "I prepare my own dyes. Spin my own thread." "You produce your silk from scratch, then?" "Yes." "That''s pretty amazing, actually." "Madame, a few moments ago you were screaming, terrified, desperate for help. You seem to have forgotten about that in favour of being nosy." "You said this tent was invisible, so I was safe here." "Yes. And I think you already knew that before you entered here. Who sent you?" "Sent me?" "Yes. Sent you. Who sent you? Why are you here?" The woman ignored the old Elf''s question and proceeded around the room. The bulk of the tent''s interior looked like a tailor''s sewing shop. A spinning wheel sat its spindle full of soft freshly spun pink strands. Baskets of full spindles sat around the spinning wheel. Near the spinning wheel, sat a large weaving loom, with yardage of fine, delicate striped pink Shantung slubbed silk partly woven. More baskets full of spindles sat around the weaving loom. Several large embroidery hoops stood on stands near the loom, each with pink silk stretched across it. Some hoops had fuchsia embroidery partly started on the pink silks, while others, already finished being embroidered, had tiny magenta seed beads and small disc mirrors being sewn on to them. "You mentioned you travel?" "I said nothing of the sort, but yes, I do. I''m a peddler. A travelling merchant. Yes. I travel. Why?" "Do you take all this equipment with you?" "Yes." "How?" "I carry it." "All of it?" "All of it." "Don''t you have a horse or a wagon or anything?" "Did you see any when you barged in?" "No." "Well, there you go." "But it was dark. And raining." "I have no horse. I have no wagon. I travel alone and on foot. I carry everything on me." "How?" "You are a nosy one, aren''t you?" "It''s just you are so small and you don''t look very strong, and there''s, like, an entire house full of stuff here." "Ah. Well, that is a puzzle then, isn''t it?" Quaraun still lingered in his bed, which was a pile of fur pelts, laid out on the floor, that he had been curled up in, sleeping in them like a bird''s next or a fox''s den. The old, sleepy Moon Elf necromancer hoped that if he just stayed in bed, the woman would leave and let him go back to sleep. But she continued poking through his belongings and snooping around in every nook and cranny she found, which annoyed Quaraun to no end. Quaraun suddenly decided she must die. No. He shook the image from his mind. He tried to imagine of something else. BoomFuzzy. All thoughts lead to BoomFuzzy. It was no use. His vision was blurry from crying and he could feel tears streaming down his face once again as he remembered the last time he saw BoomFuzzy alive. Quaraun remembered how close they were, and how beautiful BoomFuzzy looked at first glance before getting angry with him. He remembered when he was about to kiss BoomFuzzy, but then... BoomFuzzy''s BoomFudgy ButterCream Filled Chocolate Covered Apricots. Yes. That was a much better thought. Quaraun pulled a box of BoomFuzzy''s BoomFudgy ButterCream Filled Chocolate Covered Apricots from out of his tiny heart-shaped bag of holding. He stared at the velvet covered brown box with the friendly gold letters on the top. Such wonderful dark chocolates. Such horrible dark secrets they held inside each bloody bite. BoomFuzzy had died centuries ago. One bite was deadly. BoomFuzzy''s last box of BoomFudgy ButterCream Filled Chocolate Covered Apricots. The last thing BoomFuzzy ever made. The last thing BoomFuzzy ever ate. BoomFuzzy had poisoned the candy. A horrible, terrible poison. One that dissolved organs, and caused the eater to dying coughing up a pool of their own blood, mixed with their dissolved entrails. BoomFuzzy''s last box of BoomFudgy ButterCream Filled Chocolate Covered Apricots. The box of chocolates BoomFuzzy had made to kill himself with. BoomFuzzy had committed suicide. This horrible box of chocolates killed BoomFuzzy. No. This was not a pleasant thought. This was a horrible thought. A memory. That''s what this box was now. A memory of the day BoomFuzzy died. Quaraun opened the box. The deceptively heavenly aroma of bitter sweet dark chocolate, soft, fluffy buttercream, and gooey fruity apricot jam wafted out of the box. Five chocolates were gone. The rest still remained. "I loved my children," Quaraun said out loud. "What?" "But I loved BoomFuzzy more." "What are you muttering about?" "I murdered my four children." "What? Why would you do that?" "This candy is poisoned." "Is it?" "I gave them each a chocolate from this box. This horrible box of poisoned chocolates. I knew what they were, I knew they were full of poison, and I did it, anyway. I knew how BoomFuzzy had died. I knew what BoomFuzzy had done to the food. And I gave these to my children anyways. Five are gone. One for BoomFuzzy. Four for my children. The rest remain." "You murdered your children?" "Yes." "Why?" "They were sweet and innocent. Innocent and sweet. Pure and kind. Kindness is a rare thing. So few are kind. No one has ever been kind to me. I am too different to be accepted or welcomed in any society. Unloved and unwanted, outcast and abandoned. Yet they were innocent. They were not cruel and hateful like everyone else." "Then why did you kill them?" "The innocent must die along with the wicked, in order for the spell to work." "So your children were just victims." "No!" "Yes, they would be no better than the people that killed them if they weren''t." "No, no, no, no! I loved those children. I still do. They were innocent." "Blood magic? Do you mean blood magic? Blood magic is the only magic that tells you to kill." "Yes. Blood magic. Dark and evil. Evil and dark." Quaraun''s voice sounded like it was being dragged over rocks as he dragged another drag of smoke from his hookah pipe. "Evil is right. No one does Blood Magic but the most evil sorcerers." "Blood covered everything," Quaraun continued saying, not listening to the intruder. "They were so cold after. So very cold. The coldness of death. I had never felt before. Stiff and rigid. It was horrible. And worse as hours passed. Their spines snapped. Their bodies folded back on themselves." "That''s horrible! How can I possibly believe in something so dark, even if it does exist?" "You must. You are a part of it. The evil inside you, the darkness within your mind will not allow you to live without it. You must fight against it with all you''ve got. With the darkness and darkness alone. I knew nothing of death back then. I did not know what it would do to their bodies. I put BoomFuzzy''s body away, quickly after he died. He didn''t go cold and his spine did not snap. But theirs did. I didn''t know what death was like. Have you ever witnessed death?" "No." "You don''t want to. The light leaves their eyes, then tremors take hold of their body. The colour leaves their eyes. Solid black. Everything. Everyone. No matter how they die. Sickness. Old age. Poison. Hanging. It is always exactly the same when the moment of death arrives. I''ve seen so much death now." "And you seem traumatized by it." "I am. I know I am. Death is horrible to watch and yet I''ve watched it so many times now. Do you know the first death I ever saw?" "No." "My mother. My father murdered her." "That''s terrible." "I know. I saw him do it. I was three years old. He suspected she was not an Elf." "How can an Elf not be an Elf?" "When they are a Thullid." "Thullids are pretty rare, aren''t they?" "Yes. Nearly as rare as Elves." "Did he think she was a Thullid?" "Yes. Accused her of being a Thullid. So he cracked open her skull. And he was right." "She was a Thullid?" "Oh yes. When her skull broke open, there was no brain inside. Instead, there was a jelly fish. A beautiful white jelly fish. He took it out of her skull, threw it on the floor and jumped on it. Crushed it flat. Both of my mothers died that day. The Elf who gave birth to my Elven host''s body and the Thullid who bore my jellyfish larvae. He murdered both of my mothers." "You''ve had a hard life, haven''t you?" "But they took her body away. So I didn''t see what happens after death arrives. So I didn''t know what would happen to my children after they died. Their bodies expelled every last fluid, from their mouths and nose and ears and eyes, their bowels emptied. Death is horrible to see. Horrible to watch. A body must be buried within 3 hours of death, otherwise it will twist and snap its spine than empty every fluid while it does. Every body does this. Every person. Every bird. Every animal. I know that now. But I didn''t know it then. I''d never seen it before. I saw it happen to my children. I wanted them to die peacefully. But death is never peaceful. Death always snaps the spine and expels every fluid, no matter how you die, even if you die in your sleep just from old age. Death is always just plain awful." "Yes. It is, but murder is worse." "Murder. Yes. Bleak and vile. Heinous and gloomy. Sinister and evil. Malevolent and foreboding. Ominous and malignant. Malicious and gloomy. Blood. Red and oozing. Abhorrent and dismal. Anguish and despair. Malevolent and dread. Grim and malignant. Malicious and forlorn." "What? Why are spouting off random words?" "Hmmm? Am I? I don''t know. It''s something I do when I am upset. It relaxes me. I murdered my children. The Elf''s children. Not the Thullid''s children." "Thullid? You mentioned Thullids before. . ." "So much blood. The blood was everywhere." "When you killed your children?" "Yes. But they were the Elf''s children, so why should I care? I should care for my true children. My Thullid babies. My clutch of eggs. The host''s children should not concern me." "The host?" "This Elf whom I live in." "You are not the Elf?" "No. I am the Sacred Pink JellyFish. The Elf is dead, his corpse is my host. They were his children. Not mine." "I''m confused." "The Thullid''s eggs will not hatch until they are fertilized. I must guard them until then. But the Elf fathered children. Their mother was evil, but the children, were innocent. I murdered them before I executed her. I murdered them to hurt her. She loved them. Like a mother should. But she hated BoomFuzzy and taught her children to hate BoomFuzzy and sing that horrible, terrible song. I could not listen to that song any longer, so I sent them to bed, each with one of BoomFuzzy''s poisoned chocolates. I quickly regretted it, but by then it was too late. They had already eaten the candy. I slit their throats while they slept, so that they would not die as BoomFuzzy ad done, lingering in agony for days while their organs boiled inside them." "Why would you do something like that?" "The innocent die as a sacrifice to cleanse the caster''s hands of the blood of the wicked." "That''s dreadful!" "I know. I''ve lived with the guilt, my whole life. Every lifetime. So many lifetimes. I am in Hell. This is my Hell. I was so young when I killed them." "Why are you telling me this?" "I don''t know." Quaraun put the box of poisoned chocolates back in his bag and fell silent once again. "I think you are tired. You should go back to sleep." "Yes. I am very tired," Quaraun agreed. The carelessly lazy, lackadaisical Elf watched as the woman continued to rummage around in his things. Quaraun desperately wanted to slay the bitch, but he was lacking in the enthusiasm and determination to get off his own ass and actually do anything. Her actions agitated the irritated jelly brained silk merchant greatly. However, Quaraun tried his best to remain calm, relaxed, and civil and be polite. Yes, politeness. This current situation called for politeness, not daggers, and her still beating heart in his hand. Quaraun squeezed his eyes shut. Must endure. He needed to think of something. Anything. Sheep. Unicorns. The Swamp Hag''s head on a platter. Nope. This was not working. Ghirardelli was acting suspicious. Suspicious people upset Quaraun and caused him to think suspicious thoughts. Squishy, psychotic jelly brain thoughts of murder. The mind flaying Thullid living in his skull, boiled in rage as the woman went around the tent rudely touching things. Images of millions of tentacles strangling the stranger, flashed through Quaraun''s mind, as he long hair, grew longer, wriggling and twisting around him. No. Must not kill. Quaraun did not like thinking suspicious thoughts. Tea. Yes. Tea. That''s what the disconcerted old Moon Elf required. Opium tea. Ghirardelli would be dead by morning if Quaraun didn''t have some tea to divert his glorious thoughts of ripping her head off. No. Silver. Violet. Purple. Flame. Calm. Quiet. Polite. Silver. Violet. Purple. Flame. Peacefulness. Relax. Silver. Violet. Purple. Flame. Heads. Silver platters. No. That''s not right. No heads. No silver platters. No heads on silver platters. The temptation to rip out brains was great. Quaraun''s lovely silver strands of hair began twitching at the thought of pulling the woman''s brain out through her nostril. Quaraun reached out and began smoothing and soothing his wriggling strands of hair. Must resist ripping her brain out. One must be good to the Americans, evil though they are, no matter how big a piece of shit said American may be. Ghirardelli was shittier than the average Human. Quaraun knew this to be true, for Ghirardelli worked for Finderu. Resisting the temptation to slaughter every Human, especially every American Human, most especially every white American Human, especially the vile scum that lived here in Saco Bay, he encountered, was very difficult for Quaraun. Ghirardelli fit all the above criteria. White. Never good. Human. Always evil. American. Immoral degenerates. Trespassing in his tent. Lived in Saco Bay. Quaraun liked Saco Bay. Saco River Estuary was lovely. He could see it from here if only the hurricane would stop. Lovely tall green grass. Towering gentle giant white pines. Moose wading in the river. Loons shrieking from the water. Quaraun could wade into the water and let his JellyFish tentacles swim long, loose, and free. Partridge booming their wings on fallen logs. Too bad the Humans were ruining it. Clear cutting everything. Three giant red brick smoke stacks lumbering down over all of it, filling the sky with thick, black smog. Pollution and filth, all for money and greed. A crashing sound, the clattering of breaking pottery, brought Quaraun out of his thoughts. The old Elf opened his eyes, only now just realizing he had closed them. Ghirardelli had knocked over a shelf of terracotta jars, and now busied herself with picking them back up. Quaraun watched, as he reminded himself, that he must be nice to the jackass, trespassing intruder who was right now invading his privacy, even though in his mind all he wanted to do was wring the shit head trespassing intruder''s neck, shoot slugs at her from his wand, gouge her eyes out with his dagger, and then eat her brain. It had been so long since he had last eaten a brain. The Sacred Pink JellyFish set about to thinking thoughts of how wonderful eating brains was. It had been so long since she had eaten a brain. Psionic creatures like Thullids required brains to eat, in order to strengthen their psionic abilities. "Brains are such wonderful things," Quaraun muttered to himself. Before Quaraun knew it he was daydreaming visions of eating her brain sliced and toasted, spread with strawberry jelly and boiling her eyes, while wearing her teeth for a necklace. The psychotic Thullid possessed Elf thought these gloriously, lovely squishy thoughts of murder, while Ghirardelli continued to poke through his things, oblivious to the danger she had put herself by entering into this innocent-looking pink tent. A pink tent that was brimming full of everything a silk merchant needed to grow, boil, spin, weave, dye, embroider, sew, and display his pink silk wares. Quaraun''s display of pink silk wares is where Ghirardelli was now snooping around. Dozens of pink dresses, pink scarves, pink shawls, pink sari, pink hijab, pink coats, pink cloaks, pink capes, pink blouses, pink corsets, pink hose, pink skirts, pink shoes, pink boots, pink ruffs, pink collars, pink cuffs, pink hats, pink slippers, pink bags, and pink petticoats all hung and displayed around the tent, some finished and ready to be sold, others in various stages of construction. "What''s all this?" Ghirardelli asked, pointing to the weaving, embroidery, and sewing. Quaraun didn''t answer. He was too busy thinking squishy homicidal jellyfish thoughts, to any longer pay attention to the stranger who''d instigated those thoughts. "HEY!" The woman yelled as she grabbed Quaraun''s shoulder and shook him. "You okay?" "What?" Quaraun blinked and looked around, trying to remember where he was. "Oh. It''s you. Are you still here?" "Are you all right?" Chapter 10 Part 2: A Day In The Silk Weavers Tent This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. "I was once overpowered by my attackers and they shaved my hair, left bleeding to death, as blood drained from the thousands of severed tentacles." ft me in agonizing pain for months, and while, like any JellyFish I can regrow severed jelly-limbs, it takes 30 years for tentacles to grow back!" I could no longer cast magic." my hair, I can do nothing. I am a cripple." The Elf''s body is weak and in frail health rely heavily on stinging, strangling tentacles to survive. Elf''s body is badly injured, with a lame leg, and I can barely walk with the Elf''s legs. move with my hair, most all of the time, carefully wearing these long skirts to hide feet, hiding the fact that I''m actually walking on my tentacles and not on feet." Are you also able to use hair a weapon?" I have no other way to escape, hair takes on a Medusa-like life of it''s own, lashing out at attacker, either pulling them away, or wrapping around them." Chapter 10 Part 3: A Day In The Silk Weavers Tent "Is your magic abilities connected to your hair?" "The truth is far deeper than that, though. The Elf''s body is weak and in frail health. I rely heavily on my stinging, strangling tentacles to survive. My Elf''s body is badly injured, with a lame leg, and I can barely walk with the Elf''s legs. I move with my hair, most all of the time, carefully wearing these long skirts to hide my feet, hiding the fact that I''m actually walking on my tentacles and not on my feet." "You can walk on your tentacles and fly over people that way." "Yes. But that would terrify Humans. They would call me a witch and crush me under rocks or drown me with chains tied to my feet. You know how Humans are when they think there are witches about." "Are you also able to use your hair as a weapon?" "Oh yes. When threatened, and feeling I have no other way to escape, my hair takes on a Medusa-like life of it''s own, lashing out at my attacker, either pulling them away, or wrapping around them." "Can you kill people with your hair?" "I can. I have. When confronted by life-threatening situations, I have been known to use my hair to strangle my attacker to death." Quaraun glided back to the ground, and gently sat himself back down on the pillows. His hair slithered around, coming to rest snuggled around his body as if protecting him and keeping him warm. "Being a JellyFish, similar to the Portuguese Man of War, my tentacles are full of highly toxic venom and I can also sting my enemies to death. But, with my hair-tentacles cut off, I can barely stand, let alone walk. And I hide the fact of my being a JellyFish from most people. Only people I strongly trust know that I am actually a JellyFish. Thus why the claim that I can not use magic and must go into hiding, after my hair is cut. Cutting my hair is cutting off thousands of arms and legs and causes me serious injury. It takes a long time to heal with ninety percent of your body is sliced off and chopped up." "You really are a jellyfish." "Yes. I live inside the Elf''s skull after I ate his brain. I let my tentacles grow out of his head like hair." "Aren''t they heavy? I mean, tentacles must be even heavier than hair, and hair that long is pretty damned heavy. That many of them, that long, they must be heavier than the whole rest of your body." "They are." "How do you walk?" "I manage. My body was made for swimming. Not walk. But this ocean, your water, this planet it is toxic for me. I could not swim in it. And I die out of water. So, I live in this Elf and get by the best that I can." Quaraun got up and moved to the altar, which Ghirardelli only just now noticed. She was certain it had not been there a few moments ago. The altar was small, rough hewn wood. A low table that one must kneel before to reach. Nothing fancy or ornate. It did not match the rest of Quaraun''s furnishings which were elaborate. The altar had a prayer cloth covering it. On the cloth was a random mix of candles, religious statues, and scriptures. Before Ghirardelli had a chance to ask what the altar was for, Quaraun knelt on a prayer rug before it and appeared to be praying, though Ghirardelli was uncertain in what language the Elf spoke. When Quaraun finished speaking, he did not get up, but rather continued to sit in front of the altar. "Are you religious?" Ghirardelli asked. "I am a priest," Quaraun answered. "That fact alone should speak for itself." Ghirardelli looked around at the items on the altar. A book of Psalms open on the altar, and beside it a Jewish menorah candle holder. Beside it sat a statue of the Hindu god Ganesha. Statues of Jesus, Mary, Krishna, and Siva also stood on the table. Next to these lay a tear drop shaped amethyst of a swirly lavender purple with paler and darker areas. "What religion are you?" "I am a priest of the Di''Jinn Order." "Yes. You said that before. But what I mean is, are you Christian or something else?" "Does it matter?" "I ask because you have Catholic icon statues, but I see Jewish and Hindu statues as well. And a Bible. And a Q''raun." "I reverence and respect all religions, even Human religions, even ones I do not agree with." On Quaraun''s wrist was an evil eye glass bead bracelet tied with purple flocked ribbon. He fiddled with it, seemingly counting the beads as he did. It was now that Ghirardelli noticed the gold armour plates on the Elf''s fingers. Ghirardelli had noticed earlier that Quaraun seemed to have trouble gripping the tea pot and the tea cup, holding one hand below them, as though his fingers could not grip the handle well and he feared dropping them. But she could see now why this was so. The heavy metal plates, completely encased his fingers. Each hinged at the knuckles allowing him to bend his fingers ever so slightly. Ending in long claw like points over his finger tips. Gemstones in the shape of small pink hearts encrusted the elaborately detailed gold armour finger plates. They stood out to Ghirardelli now, as she was now standing over the old Elf, looking down at him, watching as he ran his fingers over each blue glass evil eye bead on his wrist. Quaraun was having great difficulty moving his fingers over the beads, because the heavy metal armour on his fingers drastically limited his movements. "Why do you know remove those?" Ghirardelli asked. "Remove what?" Quaraun looked up at the Human, wondering what she was referring to. "The armour on your hands. It seems to hamper your ability to put things up." "I can not use my hands at all, without them." "What do you mean?" "The day I was castrated. They crushed my fingers in the grinding wheel of a mill stone, after they ripped out my fingernails. My hands are damaged, almost to complete immobility. The armour helps brace my fingers so that I can use them. Without the armour I can not use my hands at all." "You''re crippled?" "In more ways than one, yes. They drove a sword through my hip and another through my knee, that same day. I''ve had a lame leg ever since. I can not run, or even walk at a brisk pace. Thus the cane. I was not yet an adult when it happened. I was still an adolescent, when they did these things to me. I was 75 years old, which, in terms of Human years would have me, equivalent to 14 of your Human years. I''ve been crippled my whole life." "So, you were still a child when you were castrated?" "Yes." "You were a child when they castrated you for having a male lover?" "Yes." "But. . . wasn''t. . . I thought. . . you were a child? Really? I thought? Every one said. . ." "My lover was an old man, with a habit for sexually abusing little boys. I was a naive child. Unaware than of what he was doing. Unaware still, when I was punished along side him. People accused me of being one of loves male and I was the victim of a rapist, a child abuser, and rather than rescue me from him, they deiced to punish him, by mutilating his favourite victim. Me." "I didn''t know." "Not many do. Not because they didn''t hear of it, but rather, because they would rather turn a blind eye to the truth. The whole town was there. The whole town joined in. Every person took turned torturing me." "That''s monstrous." "It is easier for them to accuse me of sin, than to open their eyes and accept the truth, that they are child abusers as well. They can not face that they punished his victim to hurt him, rather than rescue me from him. But that is the way it always is. Blame the rape victim, not the rapist." "I''m sorry." "Do you know the irony of it all?" "No." "I did not love him. Before." "Before? Before what?" "Before what they did to me. I was too young to understand what he was doing to me. I was confused. Had the Hanging Tree not happened, I think I would have grown to hate him. Despise him even. Looking back now, I can see he was a sexual predator, who preyed on young boys. But as a child, I did not see, did not understand. But after the Hanging Tree, that is a different matter." "Why was it different after?" "They left me in the streets to die." "Who did?" "My friends. My family. My neighbours. I was a child, castrated, bones broken, flesh ripped off, body mutilated. They left me to die." "I''m so sorry." "They abandoned me. But BoomFuzzy did not. They left me to die, and he came and found me and took me away." "The man who sexually abused you?" "Yes. He tended my wounds, mended my broken bones. They broke my fingers so badly I can not use them. BoomFuzzy made these gold armour plates so I could my hands again." "Those are actually useful? "Yes. I can not use my hands without them. They hold my fingers stiff and bend, so that I can pick things up. My hands are dead. My hands do not work otherwise. BoomFuzzy made these for me, so I could use my hands again." "They aren''t just decorations?" "No." "I thought they were jewellery." "He knew that what they did to me, they had done, because of him and he felt terrible about it. He never sexually hurt me again. He didn''t dare to. He was terrified if he ever touched me again, the town would do worse to me. He knew they were hell bent on believing I was demon possessed, hell bent on attacking the odd child, the not normal child, for any reason, any excuse." "Odd child? Were you seen as odd before BoomFuzzy?" "I was. The village idiot, the boy who didn''t have enough brains to think. They called me a changeling. Said I was a Faerie in disguise. The Hanging Tree was not the first time they had done things like that too me. It was just the most violent one they did. I almost died. He feared they would kill me, that they would use his sexual indiscretions towards a mentally disabled child as an excuse to hurt me again. Had they REALLY wanted him to stop, they would have gone after him, not his victims. Or they would have gone after ALL of his victims." "Where there others?" "There were many. For a lot of years. In a lot of places. I bragged about it. He was a sexual deviant." "You say that like you hate him." "On some levels, I do. I hate what he did to me when I was a child." "And yet, you say you love him, now?" "Yes. I do. It is confusing, how I feel." "And you were the only one hung in the tree and publicly tortured?" "Yes." "Why you and not anyone else?" "Because my father led the charge. My father didn''t care what BoomFuzzy had done to me. My father had murdered my mother, and I saw him do it and he knew I saw him do it. So he was ready to jump on any excuse to get rid of me. Kill me too. He wanted me dead. What they did to me, they did because he dragged me into the street and told them lies about me. Told them what he knew would enrage them. He fired them into a fury, so they would attack me, the rape victim, and not BoomFuzzy, the rapist. That''s why only me, and not the other boys nor our attacker."This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. "So, this whole thing was about your father covering his own ass." "Yes. There were many. But they singled out me, because I wasn''t smart enough to learn an education. I didn''t have enough brains for math or science. They lived in a so-called perfect society and I was imperfect and could not tolerate the existence of imperfection. My father said all the things they WANTED to hear, and they attacked me, because I''m the one my father threw into the crowd once they were ready to tear apart the first person they saw. He had them so fired up, they would have attacked anyone he threw at them. And BoomFuzzy saw what they did, he heard what my father said. He knew that none of this was about him, that all of this was about my father wanting to get rid of the last witness to his murdering my mother. So, he knew, if I lived, my father would do it again. Worse than before. BoomFuzzy became scared for my life, scared of how easy it would be to trigger my father into stirring up yet another mob. So, BoomFuzzy took care of me. Became my friend. My protector. That was how the man who sexually abused me when I was a child, went on to become my best friend, when I was an adult. He actually did care about me. No one else did." "I''m sorry. I. . . I don''t know what to say." "There is nothing to say. No one cared about me then. No one cared about me since. No one cares about me now. I am accused of things I did not do, because I was a child who was the victim of a sexual predator. For that, people make up rumours and gossip and lies about me, which they spread through every town, every state, everywhere I go, the rumours have been there first. I am accused of things I did not do. Judged unfairly, falsely accused, harassed, cast out, chased out, welcomed no where, forced to live my life forever alone, all because Humans are so quick to hate based on rumours instead of listening to truth, facts, and reason." "I''m sorry." "People who are truly sorry, stop doing the things they are sorry for. But people like you, say they are sorry and don''t mean it, because soon as my back is turned, outcome even more rumours and lies spread by their busy body tongues. If they were truly sorry, they''d stop doing it. It is far too easy to speak the words ¡®I''m sorry'' and far too difficult to actually mean it and act upon those words." Quaraun used his cane to pull himself back up. His movements were stiff and jerky. His hip pained him greatly and moving was difficult. The crippled Elf limped back to his pile of pillows once again, and slowly inched his way back down on to them, once again wrapping himself up in the fluffy, soft, orange and grey fox furs. "Come," Quaraun motioned his hand towards the furs. "Sit. Talk with me." "About what?" "Tell me about your evil sword. Do you know how to feed it souls?" "Well, that''s the thing. I had it for weeks and it did nothing and I thought maybe I got scammed. One night I hear a voice whisper ¡®feed me'' and a shadow comes out of the sword. Well, I didn''t know how to feed it souls, so I decide to see what happens if you feed it something other than a soul." "What did you feed it?" "Anything I could find. Bread, Butter. Jelly." "Jelly?" Quaraun looked up from lighting his pink glass encased votive candles. "You fed it jelly?" "Yes, jelly. Is something wrong with that." "I like jelly." "What?" "Continue. What else did you feed it." "Also, corn. Carrots. Potatoes. Green beans. Blueberries." "All things native to America." "Yes." "And did it eat them?" "It did. At least I think it did." "You don''t know?" "The food would vanish." "That doesn''t mean it ate it. I can make food vanish too. One wave of the wand and POOF! Gone forever." "That''s dark magic." "It is. But isn''t owning a soul eating sword, also illegal dark magic?" "Yes. That''s why I bought it." "You trying to get on Finderu''s bad side?" "No. I was going to give the blade to Finderu, next Guild meeting." "Why would you do that? If I know Finderu, he''ll charge you with necromancy and have you executed." "No. Finderu has asked Guild members to deliver to him any cursed blade we can recover." "Ah. So our dear Finderu has taken to collecting cursed swords, has he?" "No. Finderu has set out a search for The Elf Eater''s cursed obsidian dagger." "Ah!" Quaraun pulled a curved obsidian bladed dagger from his belt. The hilt dripped with several teardrop shaped pigeon blood star rubies. "You mean this?" "Is that. . ." Ghirardelli stammered. "It is." "How did you get it?" "You don''t know?" "No. Should I?" "Well, I am a mage who is likewise a merchant of pink silk. World''s most powerful wizard. World''s longest hair. It should be rather obvious how I happened to acquire the obsidian dagger of The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, now shouldn''t it?" "Should it?" "Enough about me. Tell me about your sword. What was Finderu going to do with it once you presented it to him?" "I''m going to have him remove the curse, of course." "You assume he can?" "He''s a powerful sorcerer." Quaraun scoffed. "You think he''s not?" "Honey. I have more power in my little finger than Finderu will ever have in his entire lifetime." "You really think you''re that powerful?" "I don''t think it. I know it. Look at my hair. But that''s beside the point. Tell me about the food that vanished." "I don''t know where it went." "You are not very good at being a witch are you?" "What?" "A mage who knows enough about magic to become a member of Finderu''s Guild, SHOULD, be competent enough, proficient enough, skilled enough, to figure out where things go when a magic sword makes them disappear." "Are you calling me incompetent?" Ghirardelli asked. "Yes. I am." "I''ll have you know I''m one of The Guild''s best mages!" "Indeed? Well then, times have changed. If you are the best The Guild has to offer, perhaps I should pay The Guild a visit, one meeting soon. Rid the world of every last one of you, all at once." "Rid the world us? Are you a mage hunter?" "No. I''m a wizard of The Di''Jinn Order who sells pink silk and has the world''s longest hair. You don''t get the joke." "That was a joke?" "Some would find it funny. Finish telling me about your sword." "Anyway, the sword seemed satisfied with the regular food instead of souls. So, I have this sword for a few months, while I''m researching the history of it. Supposedly it belonged to a serial killer, who was a knife salesman, so nobody suspected that he was a serial killer for a really long time. And the knife salesman somehow got his soul messed up, sold it to a Necromancer or some such evil wizard and he ended up with his soul trapped inside of his own sword and the mage used the weapon to draw souls out of the living." "Ah, well, then, perhaps you are in just the right tent, after all." "What do you mean?" "Souls are my specialty." "Souls?" "Souls and necromancy. Necromancy and souls." "I thought pink silk was your specialty?" "Yes. That too. Which would be why I am known as The Pink Necromancer." "The Pink Nec. . . Wait. No. You''re The Pink. . . No. You can''t be." "Oh, but I am. No one loves pink more than I. And no one knows necromancy better than me. And no one has a glorious head of hair like mine. Not even women possess hair as long as mine. I''m the world''s most powerful wizard." "Wait. You''re. . . my god! You''re Quaraun the Insane? The serial killer!" "I am NOT insane." "Isn''t that your name? Quaraun the Insane? That''s what everyone calls you." "Everyone likes to spreads rumours and lies and gossip. I don''t like that title. My name is Quaraun Swanzen. And I DID tell you I was the world''s most powerful wizard. Look at my hair. And everything is pink. With hair like mine, did you really think I was anyone other than The Pink Necromancer, world''s most powerful mage? How may I help you?" "Wait. I just realized something." "You should have realized a great number of some things by this point," the bad tempered little Elf chided her. "Considering you are the one who puts up my wanted posters in these parts. Anyone else didn''t recognize me. I wouldn''t have thought anything of it. But you?" "Me?" "Yes. You." "Why me?" "You are supposedly one of the justice mages hunting me, and here you are finding me, asleep and defenceless no less, and you don''t even have sufficient sense to recognize me, even though you know well that The Pink Necromancer is also a merchant of pink silk, which he wears. You had a right winning chance to kill me in my sleep, and instead you woke me up." "You are wanted dead or alive. Preferably dead. I SHOULD kill you." "I am the world''s most powerful wizard. Try to kill me now that I''m awake and I''ll just evaporate you into a pile of ashes." "Can you do that?" Ghirardelli asked. "Yes," the old Elf answered. "I do it regularly, to dumb asses like yourself who annoy me too much." "That''s not possible. Magic doesn''t do stuff like that. That''s only fairy tales." "And you are supposed to be the best The Guild offers these days? Ugh." "Mages can''t do stuff like that." "No?" "No!" "What exactly is it mages DO, do, hmm?" "They make healing salves and anointing oils and burn votive candles to petition intercessory prayers and mix up sachet powders and bath crystals for spiritual cleansing and. . ." "Bah! Mages these days!" Quaraun waved his hands in a motion showing utter disgust. "You are all nothing but quacks and hacks. Hacks and quacks, every one of you. You don''t know a thing about real magic." "That IS real magic!" "It''s folk magic. Granny magic. Swamp magic. And it''s NOT magic. It''s called medicine and science and herbal remedies. That''s apothecary. Green witchery. It''s NOT magic." "Are you saying that what we do isn''t magic?" "I just said as much, yes." "It takes years to learn. . ." "I KNOW it takes years to learn Hoodoo. I practice Hoodoo and I''m damned good at it too. But that''s NOT magic. That''s not snapping your fingers and POOF making things appear out of thin air." As he said this, Quaraun tapped his gold plated fingertips on the table and a plate full of pastries appeared. "THIS, my dear, is magic," Quaraun said pointing to the plate of glistening, honey coated confectionery. "What you are talking about is backwoods low country magic. Hoodoo. And while, yes, you NEED to learn it in order to learn the basics, it is not in and of itself magic. It is folk medicine. Learning it will help condition you for more advanced levels of learning. It takes great discipline to learn and master HooDoo RootWork, and yes, it''s very valuable to learn. Every mage SHOULD learn it, but you shouldn''t stop there. That''s just the beginning, entry level stuff. You''ve not even uncovered the tip of the iceberg if all you know how to do is Hoodoo." "How did you do that?" Ghirardelli stared bug eyed, gawking at the plate of food, Quaraun had made appear out of thin air. "I harness the energy around me and change it''s construction. Right now we are surrounded by air to breath. I simply focus on that air, change it''s molecular structure to whatever I want it to become. And right now I was hungry for pink strawberry frosted, honey glazed doughnuts, and now here they are." "That''s not possible." "Oh, but I assure you it is. I just did it and you just saw me." "No. It''s got to be a trick. Smoke and mirrors." "Did you see any smoke? Or mirrors?" "That''s Dark Magic." "No, Ghirardelli, it''s not. It''s just manipulating atoms." "Manipulating what?" "Atoms. . . I don''t think you know about them yet." "What do you mean yet?" "Never mind that. The fact remains, what you Guild members do, it petty entry level stuff at best. Which is fine and dandy if that''s all you want to do, but you can''t parade around calling yourselves the best mages on the planet, when what you do isn''t even remotely magical at all." "What you do, involves summoning Demons, consorting with Familiars, and performing blood sacrifices." "Yes." "That''s evil. It''s. . ." "It''s REAL magic. NOT grinding up roots and herbs and curing a child''s fever with tea. Anyone with basic knowledge of plants can do that. Only mages can wield ACTUAL magic." "You''re evil." "You wouldn''t know real magic if it came up and bit you in the ass." "I''ll have you know. . ." "You''ll have me know nothing," the annoyed little Moon Elf said in a huff, not letting the woman finish what she was going to say to him. "You''re an idiot. Part of a group of bounty hunters, looking for a necromancer who wears pink, lives in a pink tent, and is a merchant of pink silk, and you don''t recognize me, my dresses, my tent, or my pink silk when I''m sitting here staring you in the face. That tells me you are stupid. But tell me what exactly it is you think you have realized? Hmmm?" "I realized this is Pepper Valley. Home of The Elf Eater. You''re the Elf Eater''s lover. He had male lovers. You just told me you had a male lover who was from Pepper Valley." "Yes. I did. I said exactly that, and while sitting here dripping in pink, too." "His lover was an Elf," Ghirardelli said, her voice now trembling with fear, as the realization of whose tent she was in settled in to her mind. "Just like you." "Yes, exactly like me." "He was soul bound to a Moon Elf. That''s you!" "It is." The albino Moon Elf nodded in agreement. "I used to be just the Last Moon Elf, now I''m the Last Elf." "You''re Quaraun the Insane!" "We can teach you. How lovely. Would you like more tea?" "Tea? No, I can''t think of tea at a time like this." "Ah, well, you have your minor revelation over there and I''ll pour myself some more tea than." Quaraun waved his wand and a vase full of fragrant sweet smelling purple lavender. "That''s not tea," Ghirardelli stated, pointing out the obvious. "No, that''s delightful blooms of colour to brighten the mood." Chapter 10 Part 4: A Day In The Silk Weavers Tent If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Chapter 10 Part 5: A Day In The Silk Weavers Tent You''re wealthy. Why can''t you just give each one of them a gold coin. That''ll feed them for the rest of their lives." Quaraun shook his head sadly. "No. I tried that way already. This ain''t my first time trying to save this village." "Because you''re a time traveller?" "Yes." "How many times have you tried to save this village?" "Several. I can''t count. I told you. I don''t know math. It''s been many times though." "And giving them gold after the storm, didn''t work? Didn''t they rebuild the village? Replant the crops?" "No. They didn''t. They did none of that. Giving them gold was the first ting I tried the first time I came back here." "And it didn''t work?" "No. It SHOULD feed them for the rest of their lives, but it won''t. I''ve tried that method before. But when I return to the village the next year, they are just as poor and destitute as they were before I gave them the gold. They wasted it." "Wasted it how? On what? One of your gold coins is enough to feed a large city for hundred years. How did one tiny little village spend so much in so little time?" "Spend it on beer and vodka, gambled it away on horse races and dog fights. Spent it on whores and cards in saloons and taverns. Squandered it of frivolities and luxuries, tobacco and drugs and wine, while their wives and children starved. Greedy, selfish bastards, lavished themselves at the expense of their families. Giving them gold did far more harm than good." "So, you are saying they didn''t have enough common sense or moral decency to take care of their own families and spent the gold on themselves, and spent so much money, so fast on drinking and gambling that in just one year they were back where they started?" "Yes." "Than why are you helping them at all? Why don''t you just let them rot in their own filth?" "Is that how you think of your fellow mankind?" "Wait, aren''t YOU the one who hates Humans?" Ghirardelli asked. "Not. I don''t hate Humans as a whole. I do bed with your women, after all. I couldn''t do that if I hated you completely. What I hate is how deplorably, some groups, most groups, of Humans treat each other. You levels of racism and bigotry towards each other is rather astounding. I don''t understand it. I fear it. Humans scare me. I''ve seen far too many Humans commit atrocities and I don''t understand why you do it." "Okay, yeah, a lot of men are shit, I''ll give you that. But, why THIS village?" "What do you mean?" "I mean, if I were going to go back in time to save a village, I''d pick someplace big and important. Boston. London. Rome. Paris. This village doesn''t even have a name. They call it the garden by the see or the old orchard by the beach, and it''s nothing but opium growers and hash dealers. Look at the fields of poppies everywhere. Why pick this one? It''s all thugs and criminals and crime lords." "Yes. And in the 1920s it''ll get worse. And than in the 2000s it''ll get even more worse. Biddeford. Saco. Old Orchard Beach. The Tri-City Area. Nothing but gutter scum and filth. Welfare bums and slum lords. Honky tonks and race tracks. Topless bars and Speedo beaches. The things this valley will become a hundred years from now, two hundred years from now, would spin your head and turn your stomach. Immoral degenerates who run around guzzling beer and shaking their bare boobs out of their string bikinis, while waving Bibles over their heads and shooting black children and men like me. If there was nothing but Humans here to worry about, I''d let this place burn. It will in 1871 and it will again in 1963. I have to stop those events as well. A glacier will hit here in 1917, freeze every one to death for 30 miles around. I have to come back here for that too. Heaven and Hell are out to obliterate this regions, time and again, and if it was just Humans to worry about, I''d let it happen." "So, why save it?" "Because this is Pepper Valley." "It''s Saco Valley." "Yes, and that big bring building there is Pepperell Mill. Thus Pepperell Mill Valley." "It''s still not called Pepper Valley." "Yes. I know. But BoomFuzzy couldn''t pronounce the word Pepperell, so he always called this place Pepper Valley instead." "So, why not save one of the other places. Isn''t this storm covering a lot of area?" "You assume I desire to save it for grand reasons?" "Don''t you?" "No." "You aren''t trying to save Humanity?" "Trying to save Humanity?" Quaraun chuckled at the thought of saving Humanity. "Why would I, try to save Humanity?" "Well, what are you saving than?" "Hopefully as many of the local prostitutes as I can." "What?" "Jack the Ripper will kill a lot of women in London. And here in Saco Valley, Maine, one Dr. Bean is going to get the idea to be a copy cat killer. He''s going to pretend to be a mill girl over at the shoe factory, and he''s going to spend an entire summer killing mill girls who also work as whores. Dumps their bodies in the swamp. It''ll be another hundred years before any one finds the bodies." "You hate Humans, but you want to save prostitutes?" "Yes." "Why? Does one of those women go on to save the world or something?" "No. I''m afraid I am a bit selfish. You see, it important to me personally." "You. . . personally? How so?" "In my very first life time, before I became immortal. I fell through a portal and was badly injured. I nearly died. A young woman saved my life. Took care of me. Nursed me back to health. A few days after I left, her jealous husband got drunk and beat her to death. It was my fault that she died. She wasn''t supposed to die. So I went back in time and brought her out of her dimension into our dimension to save her life, only something went wrong." "And what does that have to do with this storm?" "Many years from now, right here on this spot, there will be a house. My grandson will live here. And he will one day, be important to others. He will become friends with a young boy and that young boy will accidentally discover time travel. If this village is destroyed now by this storm, time travel will never be discovered. Time machines will never be invented. And because of that, my lover and I will never meet. We are from different times, he and I. I didn''t know that then." "And the girl from the other dimension?" "Her husband was right to be jealous. She was pregnant, with my child. Her child is the mother of my grandson." "But you''re castrated." "Yes." "You can''t father children. Can you?" "I can. The four children I murdered, they were born nearly a hundred years after I was castrated." "How is that possible?" "I''m partly intact. I''m badly mutilated. Sex is difficult but not impossible." "I don''t understand." "I don''t think you''d understand unless I showed you my injury. I rarly have sex with women, not because I do not like women, rather women are usually repulsed by my scars and won'' have sex with me once they''ve seen how badly I am mutilated." "So, saving this village has nothing to do with actually saving the people out of the kindness of your heart? You''re just here to save some prostitutes and a girl you fathered a baby with?" "Yes. Just like you Humans, we Elves and we Thullids, we Archangels or Demons as some prefer to call us, we are driven by our own purely selfish motivations. You Humans like to make up stories about how Angels come to and fro in your service, willing to please your every whim, but I assure you that pleasing your Human asses is never why we fulfill your requests. We always have a selfish motive for everything we do. We are no different than you Humans in that regard." "Have you tried giving the women gold instead of the men?" "Oh yes. I did. Men beat the women to death to ¡®inherit'' the gold. So I came back again and gave the gold to the children, so the men murdered their children to steal the gold from them. The men who grow these old orchards on the beach, they are evil men, full of lust and greed, care nothing for women and children and will stop at nothing to kill everyone around them for gold. No. This way is better. If I give them free money, they just squander it and are back where they started a few weeks later. But if I give them Lich trees, they have a source of food that grows apples all year long, so they can sell apples all year instead of just one week of the year." "And you think my cursed sword will help you do that?" "Perhaps. It depends on what exactly it is that your sword does." "I just don''t understand why you would want a cursed sword?" "Why wouldn''t I want your sword, would be a better question, I think." "Oh. Well, why wouldn''t you want it? Wait. . . does that mean you''ve had this conversation with me before? You knew I was coming?" "No. This is different. Something has changed. This never happened before. It''s why I didn''t bother to put up a stronger barrier around my tent. I didn''t think I needed one. I''ve done this so many times now. And perhaps that is why you are here now. Perhaps, each time before you were here but you passed me because of the barrier. You didn''t see the tent." "I don''t understand. Why would you do any of this? Going back in time to change the past." "Your farmers around here depend on apples for their income. With all the apple trees dead, they will have no harvest to sell, no money to buy supplies, no way to survive the winter. Their families will freeze to death or starve to death. They need the apple trees." "And so, what does that have to do with you turning the trees into monsters?" "Liches." "What?" "I''ll turn them into Liches. Not monsters." "How is a Lich different from a monster?" "Monsters are generally just shambling beasts. Like Nzambies. Mindless. Controllable with no effort. Liches are intelligent beings. Sentient. With minds of their own. Capable of thinking rational thoughts." "Okay. Whatever. That doesn''t explain why it is you want to turn apple trees into Liches." "I turn the trees into monsters. "Liches. Because Liches are immortal. An immortal, undead, lich apple tree or monster as you call it, will provide the farmer with apples all year long, not just in fall harvest. Apple farmers will be able to feed their families all year long." "So, let me get this straight," Ghirardelli said. "You''re saying you use necromancy to help people?" "Yes." "I don''t understand." "What is there to understand?" "Necromancy is evil. . ." "No. Necromancy is neutral. It only becomes evil, when evil men use it for evil things." "I''m confused." "I''m an Elf." "Yeah. I can see you''re an Elf. What does that got to do with anything?" "You don''t know anything about Elves do you?" "Uhm, hello! Elves are extinct. They''ve been extinct for like 400 or 500 years or more." "I''m an Elf." "I can see that." "Elves are not extinct, so long as at least one of us is still alive." "True. But even if there were females around somewhere, you are castrated, so what difference does it make? You''re the last Elf and once you are dead, your species dies with you." "No. I already told you. I am still capable of reproducing and in fact I have with several Humans. So there are still a few half-Elves around." "Are half-Elves, considered Elves?" "Not by most pure blooded Elves,no." "Aren''t you a pure blooded Elf?" "Oh yes. The purest. I am an Ecrodon." "A what?" "We don''t call ourselves Elves. Or we didn''t. Elves is an Earth term, you Humans gave us after we arrived here." "Arrived?" "We are not native to your planet. Our planet suffered a super nova. Or rather our sun did. Precious few of us escaped. So, technically, I''m just the last Elf on planet Earth. In all likelihood there are still Elves alive on other planets. One only has to figure out how to get off your planet and go look for them."The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "I see." "Do you?" "No." "Than why say you did?" "Because I''d rather you explain to me what your being an Elf has to do with you turning apple trees into Liches." "Ah! Yes. I forgot I was saying that. Well, you see, it''s like this: Normally, Elves don''t become necromancers." "Elves don''t do necromancy?" "No." "But you do." "Yes." "And you''re an Elf." "So, why don''t Elves do necromancy?" "Necromancy has to do with death and we Elves don''t like death. We like life. We have a strong connection to the energies of the world. We feel the tears of the grass every time you cut it. We feel the pain from the tree, it''s silent agony as your axes cut through it''s flesh." "You''re saying plants are alive?" "Yes." "And they feel pain?" "Yes," Quaraun answered. "I am surprised you do not know this." "Why would I know that?" "You are a mage." "What''s that got to do with it?" Quaraun rolled his eyes. "They feel pain. And joy. And sadness. And sorrow. When two trees grow together side by side and one falls down and dies, the other weeps tears and becomes depressed. Gives up the will to live, and soon too falls over and dies. Plants, like you Humans fee all the same emotions you feel. As do birds and animals and fish and insects. All life, gives off energy and I feel that. I see the auras around life and the emptiness around death." "Auras?" "Glow of colour. . ." "I know what an aura is, but. . . you see them?" "Yes. Everything has a colour it gives off." "Does that have anything to do with why you wear pink?" "It does." "Can you see your own aura?" "I can." "Is it pink?" "It is. Sometimes." "Sometimes?" "Often it turns black." "Black?" "When I think about killing myself. The colour leaves my aura." "You think about killing yourself?" "Yes." "Why?" "I am unloved and unwanted." "That''s not a nice thing to say." "No. But it is the truth. And one must always speak the truth. I am unloved and unwanted. There is no way to say it and make it sound pretty or nice." "But, there must be someone out there who loves you." "Oh, there was. BoomFuzzy loved me dearly. But, he died, remember? Males bedding with other males is very evil and taboo, so we were punished for loving each other, remember?" "Yes, you''ve said." "And now he is dead and I am alone. Unloved and unwanted. Cast out. Unwelcome. Alone. I have no friends. No one to talk to. BoomFuzzy was my only friend and he is dead. He''s been dead for centuries. It is hard to go on. I try to make friends, but everywhere I go, people have already heard of me. I am famous. As you know. People fear me. So they hurt me. They won''t even try to get to know me. I''m a killer. A monster. That''s how they see me. I always alone. They only way I can get any one to spend time with me is if I pay them to spend time with me. It is distressing. I want so much to belong. Somewhere. Anywhere. I have no one. I am alone." "I''m sorry." "No. You are not. So do not say you are." "You don''t know. . ." "Yes. I do know. I am a Psion. I can see your thoughts. You are not sorry at all." "Why is your aura usually pink?" Ghirardelli asked, ignoring what the Elf had said. "Rape." "What?" "Rape." "You know. Of all the things you could have said, I think that is the last one I would have expected. What does rape have to do with the colour pink?" "People who suffer deep traumatic stress after having been raped, have a bright, fuchsia pink aura." "Really?" "Yes. I know immediately when a person has been raped, because they are the only people whose auras are brilliant shades of fuchsia pink." "No one else has a pink aura?" "No. No one else." "Only rape victims?" "Yes. Only rape victims have a pink aura." "Why is that? Do you know?" "I don''t know. It has something to do with the Archangel Raphael. I do know that." "You believe in Archangels?" "I do." "And this archangel. . ." "Raphael." "Yeah, what does he have to do with pink?" "Pink is a colour of protection. The Archangel Raphael, puts a circle of pink energy around rape victims in order to help their minds heal. It is why I weave only pink silk. I sell very few of my items. I tend to give most of it away to girls who have pink auras. It helps them to heal, emotionally, if they surround themselves with bright pink." "Helping people again?" "Yes. It''s what I do." "You''re actually good aren''t you?" "I try to be. I told you I am not evil and I''m not the monster that busy bodies and their gossiping rumours make me out to be. People make up horrible things about me all the time. I''m continually amazed the new things people come up with to accuses me of having done." "And, the apple trees?" "Apple trees?" "Yeah. You were turning them into Liches, you said." "Oh. Yes. That. Most Elves fear necromancy, same as you Humans do, because you fear death. And I started to wonder, why? Why fear death? Why can we not use death. Death is a plentiful energy force that exists all around us. Everything died, and the energy of the dead wanders, aimless and useless. We Elves, we seek to heal the world. Heal nature and Humans are part of nature, are they not?" "I suppose." "So many Humans are hurting and suffering. It''s terrible. I feel their pain. I''m a Psion. I''m used to living in a Hive Mind with other like me, but now the others are dead and I am alone, and alone in my head, same as you Humans are. So I try to find connections elsewhere." "And the apple trees?" "Elves avoid necromancy. In fact, I believe I may be the only Elf to ever become a necromancer." "Really? No other Elf before you ever became a necromancer?" "No. None. Not one." "Why not?" "Necromancy is usually used by Humans who are greedy and seek for power and control." "Are you saying Elves don''t seek power and control?" "Oh no. Nothing of that sort. It''s just that Elves live very long lives so we have plenty of time to think and plot and plan and wait for just the right moment to gain the power and control. Whereas you Humans live such short lives, that you are driven more rampantly, less patently, to seek out power and control." "So, because you live long lives, you don''t need to become necromancers to become powerful?" "Exactly. Plus we have different needs and desires than you Humans. Elves have a very low sex drive and we don''t lust for gold, though we do lust for pretty gemstones. Humans seek different things. Gold. Sex. Lordship. Government control. That is what drives most Humans to necromancy. So they use it for evil intent, leading others to believe necromancy itself is evil, when in fact necromancy is neither good nor evil. It can be used for good or evil, but men have evil hearts so they choose to use it for evil, when they could use it for good." "But why plants?" "I''m an Elf," Quaraun said. "So? You keep saying that, but I don''t understand what you mean by that." "We are guardians of nature." "Meaning what exactly?" "I am a Moon Elf, so my tribe, we guarded the life along the shore, life effected by the tide fluctuations caused by the phases of the moon. We restored life to areas decimated by blizzards and hurricanes, typhoons, and gales. We Moon Elves, travelled the coastline, following the storms, to right the damage the storms left behind. We tended to sick birds and wildlife, mended broken trees, replanted uprooted shrubbery. That is what we Elves did. Each tribe was assigned a different type of nature to look after. The Sun Elves, worked alongside us Moon Elves, they working in the heat of day, we working in the dark of night. Together we kept the coastline clean, the waters unpolluted, the plants and birds and insects and animals healthy. Wood Elves did the same, but inland in the forests. Meadow Elves tended the prairies of the West. Mountain Elves cared for the mountain regions. . ." "I get the picture," Ghirardelli said impatiently. "Do you?" "You are very condescending, you know that?" "Am I?" "Yes." "I''m sorry. I don''t mean to be. I''m not used to communicating with Humans. I don''t do it often. Do you understand what it means for us to be guardians of nature?" "You each had things you were assigned to protect and take care of and named yourselves after them. But why necromancy? That''s the part you didn''t explain." "Centuries ago, there were millions of nature guardians. Not just us Elves, but also Gnomes, Faeries, Dwarves, Dryads, Unicorns, Merrows, and others. . ." "You know most of those are mythological creatures that don''t exist." "You mean like us Elves?" "Yes. No. Wait. . ." "I am aware that because you Humans are so short lived, you don''t have memories of most of us, but I assure you, a thousand years ago, we were plentiful on the Earth." "Are you that old?" "I am. I am the Last Elf because I was one of the youngest Elves. One of the Last born. While you see me as old, I''m actually quite young." "Unicorns were real?" "Unicorns were real." Quaraun scoffed. "Do you know nothing? What are they teaching you young mages in school these days?" "I never went to a wizardry school." "Never went. . ." his voice trailed off. The thought of a mage, not attending a wizarding school, caught Quaraun off guard. He didn''t know how to respond to this and said nothing for several minutes while he mulled the concept of unschooled mages over in his squishy jelly brain. "No," he finally said at last. "No. It''s not possible for you to be anything close to competent at magic if you''ve never trained properly under wizards who actually know what they are doing." "You could teach me," Ghirardelli suggested. "Me?" Quaraun sounded utterly horrified by the very idea of teaching something as lowly as a Human, his level of magic skills. "Teach you?" "Why not?" "Why not? Why not? Do you even have to ask?" "Uhm. . . I just did." "Do you have any idea how absurd it would be for someone like me, to teach someone like you?" "What do you mean?" "I''m an Elf." "So?" "You are a Human." "Again, so?" "Do you know nothing of the kind of magic I practice?" "No. Tell me." "I''m a necromancer." "Necromancer?" "Yes. Necromancer." "But necromancy is illegal." "Yes. It is. But I''m not one to abide by Human laws. You see, I''m not a Human. I''m an Elf. So your laws don''t apply to me." "You''re a necromancer." "Yes. And necromancy is the most advanced magic possible to learn. It''s why there are so few proficient necromancers in existence." ""So shouldn''t one learn necromancy from the best necromancer there is?" "Well, yes, but, I don''t think you understand. I''m an Elf. And you''re a Human." "What does that have to do with anything?" "We Elves live for many hundreds of years. I am myself nearly a thousand years old. You Humans are lucky if you even live fifty years. A few may make it to sixty or seventy even. Once in a while a Human reaches a hundred years old, but that is very rare." "And this makes a differance?" "Well, of course it does." "How?" "I was over seventy years learning rudimentary magic skills. Basic level magic, that even the longest lived Human will never live long enough to master. I advanced those skills after that. And than after that it took me over a hundred years just to master the very basics of necromancy." "So you are saying Human necromancers, even the most powerful ones, don''t even know the minimal basics of necromancy, because they''ll never live long enough to study it?" "Exactly! The only reason I am the best necromancer in the world is because I''m the oldest necromancer in the world. Same for all my magic skills. I''m the world''s most powerful wizard, simply because I am the world''s oldest wizard. I''ve spent nearly a dozen centuries honing my skills and mastering my craft. It''s pointless for me to even try to teach you anything." "Would it be pointless to learn, even if one knew one could never master it?" "Perhaps not. Learning is always good. But you don''t even know the history of magical beings. You didn''t know Unicorns were real!" "Unicorns are taught to be things of fairy tales and Fantasy novels. No one believes they are real or that they ever were." "And yet, they were real, so short a time ago, that I remember feeding herds of them in the Di''Jinn desert, along the river''s edge." Quaraun sighed sadly. "I miss my little black Unicorn." "Isn''t that a perfect example of why mages like us, need someone like you to teach them?" "How''s that?" "Because people today have forgotten so much and you are old enough to remember the stuff we forgot." "It was but a few thousand years ago, you Humans started breeding in faster succession and you spread like a parasitic plague across the earth. That''s why Unicorns are gone, you know. That and because the Di''Jinn killed most of them, which is why I killed the Di''Jinn." "YOU killed the Di''Jinn?" "Yes. They were going to kill my little black Unicorn. The one with the gleaming silver horn. I loved my little black Unicorn. He''s dead now." "I''m sorry." "Don''t be. He''ll be back soon. I''m working on resurrecting him." "I thought you were resurrecting the Elf Eater." "I am." "And you are resurrecting the Unicorn as well?" "No." "But you just said. . ." "BoomFuzzy WAS the Unicorn." "The Elf Eater was a Unicorn? But I thought. . ." "The Elf Eater was a Phooka. Don''t you know what a Phooka is?" "Uhm. I''m not sure. It''s a type of Faerie. Kind of like a Demon." "No. Nothing like a Demon. Phookas are a type of Unicorn. Similar to a Kelpie. But where Unicorns are white and have gold horns and Kelpies are green and have copper horns, Phookas a black and have silver horns. Also Kelpies are huge, like Clydesdale, while Unicorns are more like Arabian racing stallions, and Phookas are like little Shetland ponies the size of a goat." "I never knew that. Wait. . . are you saying the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley was a HORSE?" "Yes. The Elf Eater was a Unicorn." "I thought he was a man!" "No." Quaraun shook his head. "BoomFuzzy was a horse. He could cast illusion spells to make you hallucinate and see a man instead of a horse, but he was always a horse." "So, you are saying there were lots of different types of Unicorns, right?" "Yes. Horses with horns on their heads, were once plentiful, but than you Humans showed up and ruined everything." "Ruined? How did Humans ruin everything?" "You destroyed nature." "No we didn''t." "Yes. You did." "How?" "At first, we thought you would help care for nature too, so we did nothing to eradicate you while we had large enough numbers that we still could. But then armies of you attacked and killed entire nations of our tribes, and well, you can see the result. Gnomes and Dwarves were the first to go extinct. I am the last Elf, unless there are a few others, like myself, travelling alone, but we Elves have a hive mind and I would have picked up on any survivors by now if there were any others out there. What few Faeries survived, opened up portals and fled to other dimensions. Demons did the same. The world is now left unprotected, defenceless against the infestation of your Humans. And you are destroying her." "Who? "Nature. Earth. A lot of America is utterly destroyed." "Is it?" "Yes. And it''s worse in the future. A lot worse. In the year 2525, the Earth will implode, and you Humans cause it. You fight amongst yourselves so much that you build weapons of mass destruction and kill most all life on the planet." Chapter 10 Part 6: A Day In The Silk Weavers Tent
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE: PREFERABLY DEAD: QUARAUN THE INSANE.
said as harshly as she could muster. your artist. Pose for my wanted poster. It would at least give a fighting chance of trying to catch me. Not that could. I am the most powerful wizard the world has ever known, after all. Now I ask you, does this even look anything like me? What were you thinking using this picture on my wanted poster? This looks nothing like me."Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Holy Roman Emperor Charlemagne died in 814 A.D. That''s. . . that''s. . . that''s a thousand years ago." embedding it into the wax. After a few minutes, the blaze died down and the fire burned itself out. But you''re being a female would explain the styling your hair and wearing your clothes as though you wee female. So, you are saying that you ACTUALLY are, quite literally, you ARE The ACTUAL Sacred Pink JellyFish?" Chapter 10 Part 7: A Day In The Silk Weavers Tent The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. you are a highly narcissistic, egotistical Elf." or admit to being vain and having pride issues." Arabia is several hundred miles north Iraq. Iraq is by Iran and Egypt. Arabia is by Turkey and Romanian. I am from the southern marsh land of the Tigris River estuary, not the big city metropolises of Arabia in the north." Chapter 10 Part 8: A Day In The Silk Weavers Tent nor underhanded." "So everyone tells me." Demons were. . ." Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. stated. in my body and half my soul is in his body. And than decades later when he commit suicide in a lich making ritual, the spell didn''t work because he wasn''t in possession of both halves of his soul. Now I am half lich and he is stuck in between lich and dead. I''m trying to correct that. Make him into the lich he wanted to be, and free myself of becoming a lich with him." y would you possibly think that I am any different from anyone else who would call this nonsense all smoke and mirrors?" said, trying to sound calmer than she felt and hoping the old wizard did not sense how scared she was of him. an Elf?" "So you are saying he wasn''t a murdering, serial rapist, cannibal, like everyone says he was?" Chapter 10 Part 9: A Day In The Silk Weavers Tent I don''t have to believe it. I know it." The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. in the habit of drinking poisons. My lover died from drinking poison and I''ve spent 400 years drinking poisons trying to die with him. It seems, because he and I were soul bound and he became a Lich, that I am now immortal on some level and putting poison in my tea has no effect on me. So. Now that, that didn''t work, now, how are you going to try to kill me?" The Pink Necromancer pulled one vial from its slot and held it up to the lamp, so Ghirardelli could see the contents of the vial. CASTRADED. Me." ed with fury. "Why? Because I dare fight back and defend victims who can not stand up for themselves? If that is your definition of evil, then you may want to rethink your own values and morals, for you may very well be evil yourself. Watch your tongue, dear sweet Ghirardelli, or you may just one day end up in my bag alongside them." Chapter 10 Part 10: A Day In The Silk Weavers Tent Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Chapter 11: Drunk More Clearly is very important for walking. It would do no good to walk if one was not standing upright beforehand. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Chapter 12 Part 1: Kelim Meets The Necromancer ~o0o~ Kelim knew where the house was. All the kids did. Ghirardelli, The Swamp Hag lived in a sod roofed, moss covered hovel, deep in the swamps, in the pine forests to the west of the salt marsh. Kelim had been here before, many times. On a dare. It was something kids did. Dare one another to go to the Swamp Hag''s house and rip a board of her fence as proof you did it. There wasn''t a kid in town who didn''t have a piece of the old Hag''s fence. Kelim began panicking as he thought of the fence. "What if she recognizes me as the one who stole a piece of her fence?" Kelim stopped walking and sat down on the grass. His head was spinning. He felt he was about to faint. The ground was still cold. The snow was mostly melted. Flowers peeked up through last fall''s dry leaves. Kelim lay on his back in the cool young spring grass and stared up at the tall towering pine trees. A sickly sensation of Vertigo sunk in his stomach as his gaze followed the trees up their 150 feet of height. Little brown birds ran down thick bark, head downwards and peeking under the cracks looking for ants. Kelim wondered how they did not get dizzy or fall off from the blood rushing to their head. He was getting dizzy just thinking about it. Kelim closed his eyes, but that did not make him feel any better so he sat up and looked out across the swamp in stead. "I gotta do this." Kelim hated coming out into the swamp alone. The water was black and sickly looking. Not the clean, healthy, clear water anyone would want to drink. It stank too. Ghirardelli wasn''t Human. Of this Kelim was certain. He was certain because everyone in town said it and it must be true if so many people said it. She wasn''t a Faerie either. Kelim didn''t know what she was. She was a Hag. But what was a Hag? What was a Swamp Hag any ways? A Demon? He didn''t know. He didn''t really care. Hags were not Humans or Faeries or Fairys or Elves or any other such race. They were some sort of Monster race. Something akin to a Demon. But.. He didn''t know. And. . . He didn''t care. He just needed to think about something other than that he felt like vomiting right now. Most of him just wanted to run back to town. Kelim looked out at the swamp again. Where the edge water sat still, there was a brown rusty coloured gelatinous foam coating the leaves and sticking to twigs. That icky looking sludge seemed to be the sources of the smell. Kelim got up and started walking again. He had to hurry if he wanted to talk to the Necromancer and still have time to get back through the woods again before dark. He walked round the edge of the water knowing that the Swamp Hag''s house was around here somewhere. The forest was getting deeper and darker. The trees closer together. The deeper Kelim went into the forest, the cleaner the swamp looked. The swamp widened significantly now. The water at its centre more like a shallow pond, but still black from the thick peat floating at its surface. Tall grass and prickly spiky vines grew around the water''s edge. Kelim suspected he was coming to the end of the swamp as he could hear the sounds of running water up ahead. He had yet to find the Necromancer''s home. Did he not live in the swamp after all? A woodpecker screamed from a rear by hemlock as if to answer. "Don''t be silly," Kelim scolded himself. "It''s probably all just a stupid rumour, anyway." Kelim passed the glade in front of the large thatched roof hovel of Ghirardelli, the swamp hag. A tall stockade fence surrounded the entire place. Kelim stood, counting the missing panels that created gaping holes in the ancient wooden fence. "She''s a Witch, and she has a Necromancer staying with her. Why do I let Witsnot talk me into these things?" Kelim counted the trees to keep himself from feeling like he was stuck in a nightmare. He tried to convince himself that he was just getting worked up over nothing. In the far corner of the swamp an old hovel was half hidden in the shadows of tall trees lined up behind it. It was the only sign of any life. So he strolled over, trying to look casual. He hesitated a second before knocking on the door. There was no answer at first. He knocked again. Still no answer. He knocked louder. Kelim was about to give up and leave when the door swung open so suddenly it made him jump back. He had expected the Swamp Hag to answer the door. But it wasn''t her who stood before him now. It was an Elf. Not a Common Elf. No. A High Elf. Kelim had not expected the Necromancer to be a High Elf. Nor had he expected the alien creature to be the one who would answer the door. The door had been answered by a pale skinned Moon Elf with long silken bum length white hair, large brilliant icy pale blue eyes, and dressed head to toe in eye popping bubblegum pink robes, embroidered with huge platinum beads and magenta silk hearts. The Elf''s opaline skin stood out in pale evening light, shimmering like moonlight on freshly fallen snow. Kelim had heard rumours that moonlight had this effect on the skin of a Moon Elf, thus their name of Moon Elf, but he''d never before seen it. An eerie prism like glow hovered over the Elf''s frosty white flesh, making the Elf look as though it had been carved out of ice. The effect terrified Kelim, who had heard rumours that the High Elves had a deep dislike for every race other than their own. Kelim had never met an Elf before. Common Elves were scary enough. But the High Elves were terrifying. Ruthless. Brutal. Emotionless. Cannibals. Predators. Emotionless predators. Sharp fanged. Vampire-like. Blood thirsty beasts that had fallen from the sky and were trapped on Earth against their will. Kelim knew the stories. No blood relation to the Common Elves. Not Elves at all. No blood relation to anything Earthly. Aliens from another time. Another world. Another galaxy. They hated being trapped on this alien planet. They hated all life on Earth. They kept to themselves and shunned all of Earth''s inhabitants. The High Elves were rare and even more rarely seen. So rare that rumours deemed them mere figments of over active imaginations. And yet, here was a High Elf. One of those rare alien vampires, was now standing face to face with Kelim. Kelim stared at the Necromancer, uncertain what to say. The Moon Elf was looking at him with an expressionless face. Kelim had not expected the pale Elf to answer the door. He was taken by surprise at this. This was the Swamp Hag''s house after all. Why would a stranger answer her door? And while this was clearly an Elf, he was uncertain if it was the Wizard or not. The strange, unearthly, shimmering, prismatic, somewhat phosphorescent skin of the pink robed Elf terrified Kelim. Kelim had heard rumours that the Moon Elves had a deep dislike for every race other than their own, and this Moon Elf was looking at Kelim with an expressionless face. Kelim may have prided himself in knowing the stories told about the Moon Elves, but the fact was, that Kelim really knew next to nothing about Moon Elves in general, or this the Last Moon Elf in particular. Had Kelim known the actual history of the Moon Elves, and the truth behind how Quaraun had become the last of his kind, Kelim would have been running scared shitless, to get as far away from The Pink Necromancer as he could. But Kelim only knew the stories. The rumours. Not the history. Not the facts. Not the truth. If he had known the history, and how they had died, Kelim would have known that what he was talking to was in fact NOT a Moon Elf, but rather a Thullid, whom had killed the Moon Elves and was wearing the skin of this Moon Elf, like a coat. Ghirardelli had known this. And Ghirardelli could have warned Kelim of the danger he was in, were she alive, which she wasn''t. Ghirardelli was dead. Quaraun had been a Moon Elf, many, many centuries ago. But now, like Ghirardelli, Quaraun was dead, and his hollowed out body was the skin worn by the Thullid living inside of him. Had Kelim known this, he would have known that the words Quaraun was right now muttering under his breath, were not Elvish, but rather, were Thullid. Kelim didn''t know Elvish or Thullid, so Kelim just assumed that the Moon Elf was speaking Elvish. Assumptions were a bad habit for Kelim. Making assumptions bout those around him, was the easy way through life. To act on assumptions and treat them as truth, was the lazy man''s way of facing the world. And Kelim, well, Kelim was as lazy as a lazy man could be. Except Kelim was not a man. Kelim was a pixie. A lazy Pixie. A very, tremendously lazy Pixie prone to making assumptions and acting without thinking. Kelim was making a lot of assumptions right now, as he stood gawking at The Pink Necromancer, in all his pink striped silk finery, dripping with gold jewellery, glistening with pink tourmaline, and warped in fuchsia pink marabou feathers. One: Kelim was assuming that he could get a wish granted, with little ease, and quickly be on his way, to find Ophelia waiting at his house to tumbling into his arms. After all, hadn''t Ghirardelli told every one in the village of the night The Pink Necromancer had visited three years ago? Had she not met him during The Great Gale of 1846? The day, when the factories collapse, the towns were levelled, the apple orchards razed, the railroads destroyed, and everyone woke up to find hundreds of cats and dogs roaming the streets of The Godforsaken City? Had Ghirardelli not told everyone of her encounter with Quaraun the Insane, and how easily he had granted her wish that the hurricane''s rain would turn into cats and dogs? Yes. Kelim knew the story. He knew it well. He''d heard Ghirardelli in town plenty of times, raving and ranting and trying to convince some one, any one, to believe her. To believe that the cats were not a herd of strays chased here by the storm. To believe the stray dogs were not a wild pack that had roamed in seeking safety from the flooding. No one believed her. Why would they? Rumours of The Pink Necromancer were ancient. No one believed he could still be alive after so many years. Had he not roamed the Earth in 800 A.D? Was it not now 1849? Three years after the The Great Gale of 1846? The infamous wizard would be well over a thousand years old by now.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. And so, people laughed. They laughed at Ghirardelli, and he story of a pink jellyfish, roaming the Maine forests, disguised as an Elf, granting wishes, and making cats and dogs rain out of storm clouds. But Kelim believed her. She''d been too convicted, too convinced, too certain, for it not to be true. Kelim believed Ghirardelli''s account of a wish granting wizard, garbed all in pink, capable of bestowing any wish you could imagine. This was Kelim''s first mistake. Second: Kelim assumed that what stood before him was a female Elf. This was Kelim''s second mistake. Three: Quaraun had been asleep moments ago. Asleep and plagued by visions of pumpkin patches, and grateful to be brought out of his reoccurring lucid dream, but resentful at being woken up none the less. Kelim had woken up a grouchy Elf who despised people demanding wishes from him. That was Kelim''s third mistake. Kelim stared up at Quaraun, reflecting about Ghirardelli''s account of wishes granted and pondered if he should request the pink robed wizard to grant his wish, or should he turn around and run? Quaraun grumbled and sputtered Thullid swears under his breath as he remained in the entrance, blood dripping from his hand, glaring down at the green-winged Pixie. The Moon Elves had perished three centuries ago, Quaraun being the last, and with them, their ancient Elven language had died out with them. All Elves were rare these days, and the Moon Elf language had been considered of as a dead language even when there were still Moon Elves alive. Quaraun had had to learn the many various languages of the Humans, the lesser Elf races, and other nonElven races in order to communicate with them. There was no one who could speak his native tongue. The Moon Elf language was as dead as Latin, which was why the poor Moon Elf had picked up the unhealthy habit of speaking to himself in order to keep from forgetting how to speak his native tongue. Unfortunately for Quaraun, what he did not recognize is that he long ago had ceased speaking the ancient Moon Elf language and was, in fact, speaking the Thullid language to himself most days. The Thullid language was not an Earth language. Being aliens from a distance galaxy, the Thullid ship crash landed on Earth centuries ago. The Thullid language comprised of mostly ¡®L''s, ¡®T''s, ¡®X''s, and ¡®I''s and little else. It''s slithering hissing words sounded very snake-like. The language was spoken quick, intermingled with screams, and shrieks. The shrieks and screams were actual words, but to Humans sounded like mindless screaming and shrieking. Quaraun, dressing as he dressed, talking as he talked, in his eye-popping pink beaded Samite silk gowns, pacing in circles, screaming and squawking to himself in a dialect that sounded nothing like a language at all, terrified most individuals. Kelim was terrified right now. Because Quaraun was right now, snarling to himself, in a hissing snake-like accent that frightened the little Pixie who stood trembling before him. Quaraun rarely spoke to anyone, as he was usually too busy having conversations with himself to notice there was anyone around to talk to. More often than not, Quaraun had bitter arguments with a map that he spent an inordinate amount of time yelling at. Quaraun had fallen asleep while having the most delightful conversation with the Swamp Hag''s severed head before the knock on the door interrupted him. He did not like being disturbed. Kelim had interrupted him. He immediately decided he did not like Kelim. Quaraun hated Kelim, for no reason, other than Kelim had knocked on the door and woken him up. Quaraun was out of Green Fairy Wine. He would rather sleep if he had no Green Fairy Wine to drown his depression in. Kelim had woken him up, so he concluded he hated Kelim and stood in the doorway contemplating if he should cut off the Pixie''s head now or after he had heard what the Pixie had to say. Most people who came across Quaraun, dressed as he dressed and chatting to himself in the Thullid language, heard nothing but a lot of wild rambling gibberish that sounded nothing like any Earth language they had ever encountered, so most people took Quaraun for a psychotically deranged, gibbering idiot and was very careful to avoid him. Few realized Quaraun was no longer an Elf at all, but was in fact a Thullid. Quaraun was a Thullid Spawnling. The Thullid had killed the Elf. That''s what Thullid do. They kill Elves and then take over their bodies. Even their closest friends won''t know they''re dead. The Thullid larvae hollow out their skulls and live inside the Elf''s head, fusing their tentacles to the nerves. Quaraun''s icy white blue eyes were cold. Distant. Empty. Completely devoid of any emotion. They were not the kind eyes of an Elf, but the empty emotionless eyes of a Thullid. Quaraun was not an Elf, not anymore. Quaraun the Elf was dead. He''d been dead a long time. A Thullid had taken up residence in his body. Possessing him. Infesting him. Infecting him. When Quaraun was just 3 years old, and eventually devouring his brain and replacing it with its own brain. Quaraun the Elf had perished centuries ago, at the young age of only 9 years old. All that remained was the hollow husk reanimated by the tiny pink jellyfish living in the dead Elf''s hallowed out, brainless skull. The Sacred Pink JellyFish had eaten Quaraun''s brain, and like a hermit crab, was residing in his empty skull. Looking into Quaraun''s emotionless dead eyes, Kelim knew something was definitely mentally wrong with him. His eyes looked like those of a squid. The wall eyed fishy glaze of his eyes, terrified Kelim. Quaraun was nothing but the long dead corpse of an Elf whose carcass had become the home of an alien sea creature. Quaraun had become someone else. He had turned into a Thullid. Had he known he was facing a Thullid, Kelim would have shuddered to think of the horrible agony Quaraun had suffered through upon his death to be captured by a Thullid, to have it hold him down and drill a hole into the back of his head, then implant a larva into his brain. The weeks and months of agony that followed as the larvae fed off the poor Elf''s brain, while rooting its spidering tentacles throughout his body, replacing his nerves with its own, hollowing out his muscles and refilling them with its own. The poor Elf had suffered in agony for years while the creature slowly took over his body and learned to replicate his words and actions. In all the Realms there was no death more horrific or more feared, then to die by Thullid infestation. Quaraun the Elf, only Quaraun the Thullid, meaning the real Quaraun had suffered in agony, alone, with no one there to comfort him. The real Elf had died such a horrendous death. Quaraun looked like an Elf, he outer body had been born an Elf, but it was the Jellyfish living in his brain, that is who Quaraun was now. It was for this reason that Quaraun could often be seen, talking to himself, in a language that was filled with squishy, fish-like shrieks and screams that made little sense to the people who met him. Quaraun spoke in 84 common languages. Quaraun, being the highly educated High Elf that he was, spoke most of the known languages of the region, and thus immediately shifted his own speech to match whatever language was being spoken to him. His ability to speak most every language could sometimes make talking to him difficult as he could, and often did, change languages mid-sentence and rarely realized he was doing it. Most of his conversation was thus a strange blend of his own native Moon Elf, mixed with Thullid in a bizarre language Quaraun had unknowingly created for himself in his last two hundred years of hermit like solitude. Kelim, unable to speak either Moon Elf and Thullid, could not pick up on this difficult self-language Quaraun had made for himself, which annoyed the Moon Elf, forcing him to speak the Pixie''s language, which pissed him off. But none of this mattered right now, for Kelim was unaware he was addressing a Thullid. In Kelim''s mind, this was an Elf. A Moon Elf. A pale skinned Moon Elf with long, silken, bum length white hair. A Moon Elf with large, brilliant icy pale blue eyes. A Moon Elf dressed head to toe in eye popping bubblegum pink samite silk robes. A Moon Elf with elaborately embroidered and beaded designs of hearts, roses, flowers, and jellyfish all over his furisode kimono and corseted gown. A Moon Elf who right now stood in the doorway staring down at Kelim. A Moon Elf with opaline skin which glimmered in pale evening light, shimmering in the moonlight. After his initial Thullid muttering to himself as he opened the door, the pink-clad Elf said nothing more and stood silently staring down at Kelim. Kelim wasn''t sure who he was addressing. He had come here looking for an evil male Necromancer. But this was. . . he wasn''t sure. He thought he might be staring into the cold dead eyes of a female prostitute instead. "Uhm. . . my name is Kelim?" It came out as a question, more than a statement. The thin albino Moon Elf just stared down at him and said nothing, which was making Kelim nervous. "I''m a Toadstool Pixie." "I can see that." The Elf sounded bored. Or tired. Or maybe both. Kelim was taken back slightly by the Elf''s voice. It was the deep, velvety voice of a male, but he could have sworn the Elf standing before him was a female. It looked like a woman. Dressed like a woman. The tightly corseted pink dress, with long flowing furisode sleeves. That was was women''s dress. The Elf''s eyes were kholed with black, lips painted blood red, and fingertips glistening with pink jewel encrusted gold claw tips. Fresh blood dripped from the tips. Sparkling pink and green watermelon faceted gemstones glittered from the many rings pierced through the Elf''s foot long pointed ears. A couple more jewelled rings were pierced through the side of his nose and glistening silver chains draped from the rings in his nose to the rings in his ears. Many dainty charms of silver, decorated with more tourmalines, hung from the chains connecting his nose rings to his ear rings. His long, silken white hair hung down to below his waist. If Kelim had met this pink gowned, bejewelled Elf on the streets, he would have sworn she, er, he, was a prostitute. "Uhm. . .I. . .I''m looking for the wizard called Quaraun." "Well, you''ve found him." "Are you Quaraun?" "I am he," said the Moon Elf, as he stretched one arm out straight and leaned on the door frame, showing he was unconcerned by either who or what Kelim was, and barring the entrance to his home at the same time. He slowly began drumming his long, thin fingers on the door. He left bloody fingerprints on the wood as he did. Kelim couldn''t help but notice the Necromancer had multiple large, sparkling diamond and sapphire rings on every single finger. No. They were not rings. It was jewel encrusted gold armour. But it wasn''t the rings Kelim was focusing on. It was the blood. Blood was trickling down the Elf''s hand. Down his wrist. Into his sleeve. Blood spatter was sprayed across several parts of the dress, and the hems were soaked heavily with more blood. The Elf''s skirts left bloody streaks and swirls on the ground as the hems swept the floor. "I''m sorry. . .you look. . .uhm. . .I thought you were a. . . Are you a man?" "I''m an Elf." "Are you a male Elf?" "If you mean, was I born with a cock and balls between my legs, yes." "You look like a. . ." "How I choose to dress, whether it matches the gender I was born as or not, quite frankly doesn''t concern you, now does it?" Kelim looked down at his feet and began twiddling his thumbs. Talking to strangers made him nervous. People with any authority made him nervous. Wizards made him nervous. Elves made him nervous. He was just now realizing that effeminate men in pink sequined dresses with lots of feminine jewellery made him nervous. Quaraun the Insane was all the above. Quaraun was making Kelim more nervous than he''d ever been before. He couldn''t think when he was nervous. Kelim didn''t know what to say next. He really hadn''t thought this part through. It had taken all the courage he could muster just to walk out into the enchanted forest in the first place. He''d almost turned back several times while going through the frozen swamp. And now here he was at the front door of a strange transvestite Necromancer Elf who was probably far more dangerous than Finderu the Masked. Kelim felt faint. Masked frightened Kelim. This wizard did not wear a mask like Finderu, but he might as well have. Quaraun perked up his ear to listen, waiting for Kelim to say something. His thin, pointed foot long ears twitched, nervously causing the chains connected back to his nose to shake and tinkle. The ears mesmerized Kelim. And the rings. And the chains. And the charms. Quaraun had 24 earrings in each ear. And 3 nose rings, 1 in the centre, and one on each side. Each ring in his ear had a tiny linked, delicate chain in it. Each chain connected back to one ring in his nose. Every few links of the chain had tiny pink watermelon tourmaline crystal point hanging from it. Kelim knew very little of Quaraun and was unaware that Quaraun was a priest and wore the very distinctive robes and jewellery as part of his religion. Kelim remembered the old Swamp Hag, Ghirardelli, saying though born in Quebec, Persian priests raised Quaraun in the marshlands of Iraq. Quaraun was the only Elf member of his religion. And was one of only two Di''Jinn priests still alive. The Di''Jinn were all dead, save Quaraun and ZooLock. Kelim heard Ghirardelli say these things, but had not paid attention. He, like so many others in The Godforsaken City, had turned a blind eye to Ghirardelli''s pleadings. A deaf ear to Ghirardelli''s warnings. Ghirardelli was just the crazy old witch from the swamps. No one listed to her. As Quaraun had predicted, three years earlier, no one believed her story of having met The Pink Necromancer. Nor had anyone believed her warnings that a Thullid invasion was upon them, because the Sacred Pink Jelly Fish walked among them. No. Like every one else in The Godforsaken City, Kelim had walked passed Ghirardelli, as she stood on the curb, screaming and wailing the terrors of brains sucked out and eaten by jellyfish. And so Kelim was unprepared for his own meeting with the self-same Thullid infested Elf, whom Ghirardelli had meet three autumn''s ago, during the The Great Gale of 1846. All Kelim knew was that standing before him was an Elf that looked to be a Muslim woman, but whom Kelim had been told was a male wizard, and Kelim stood very confounded and confused, and wasn''t certain what to say or how to address the pink robed Elf. The glittering chains and charms and crystals hanging from the 48 earrings and connecting back to his nose were what was troubling Kelim the most, for he could not see hardly any of Quaraun''s face. Quaraun was said to be beautiful. More beautiful than any other being ever born. And while it definitely appeared that man behind the veils and jewels was exotically beautiful, all Kelim could really see what his nose and his eyes. Kelim wondered if the rumours of Quaraun''s beauty were in fact inspired by the mystery of his mostly hidden face. Quaraun''s long ears make it difficult for him to wear the hijab style, veiling properly. Thus why he wore this elaborate network of rings and chains, as a way to keep his face covered. The jewellery acted as a veil, exactly as Quaraun intended it to do. Ghirardelli had not mentioned the chain veiling covering Quaraun''s face, because he had not been wearing it the night she had met him. Most of Quaraun''s face was obscured from view by of this massive network of jewellery. The chains act like veiling, with only his eyes and lips visible. The action of his abnormally long ears constantly moving with his emotions caused the crystal points and chains to make tinkling sounds every time moved his ears even the slightest bit. Kelim continued to gawk, awestruck, jaw dropped at the Elf''s outlandish eye popping pink, jewel encrusted female outfit, and it was annoying Quaraun. Quaraun was very shy, extremely introverted, kept to himself, lived as a hermit, did not like attention, and was easily made upset by people staring at him. Kelim was staring at him. Kelim was staring at Quaraun for a very long time. The awkward silence, combined with Kelim''s stare, was unnerving Quaraun. He felt the desire to pull out his dagger and rip the Pixie''s throat out. Quaraun did not like the Pixie. It was staring at him too much, for too long. It made Quaraun uncomfortable. He did not like it. Finally, seeing that Kelim was making no move to speak, Quaraun broke the silence. "What do you want?" the Moon Elf demanded, sounding a more than a little hostile. Kelim looked up at the tall, cross-dressed Elf. Quaraun wasn''t tall. In fact, he was short. But Kelim was shorter and Quaraun seemed taller than he was, by the way he carried himself. Quaraun lowered his eyebrows, into a guarded expression which said to Kelim, "You better have had a damned good reason for disturbing me. I have business to attend to and you are wasting my time." The Elf was clearly was growing impatient, and his icy blue eyes were cold and staring and served as a sufficient warning to scare Kelim into losing whatever courage he had mustered up on his way getting here. Chapter 12 Part 2: Kelim Meets The Necromancer or the rest of the area. He took a closer look at his host, and noticed that even though he had pure white hair, his skin wasn''t wrinkled, almost like he was hanging in between young and old. Kelim the Toadstool Pixie couldn''t decide which he was. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. IS a better word." monologuing and glared at the incompetent fool, who was stupid enough to interrupt him while he was pontificating. Foolish enough, not only to interrupt him, but to correct his speech. Quaraun momentarily contemplated ripping the Pixie''s head off than thought better or it and continued his monologued speechifying. City. She has been warning you of it for the past three years and yet, here I am, and here you are. Talking to be like nothing is wrong. Like a lamb to the slaughter, to troddle on into the spiderweb." "It is if I say it is YOU specifically, Kelim, YOU came here and smashed up the fence she hid behind. The fence she put up to protect herself. You violated her feeling of safety. The fence told me what you did and it told me how terrified she was by your actions. You gave no thought to her feelings. You thought only of yourself, even now." Chapter 12 Part 3: Kelim Meets The Necromancer If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. his rainbow wand around again. "This is nothing." THEY most certainly think of me as evil. As does most of the high populating snooty citizens of the world." Chapter 12 Part 4: Kelim Meets The Necromancer virgin women or female children, also virgins and reading how their entrails land on the ground as they run around screaming until they die." girls, and than removing their bones, chopping them up, tossing them in the air, and reading the patterns they make when they land on the ground. Same like you do for sheep on you use Humans instead." AM the best." Quaraun waved his wand again and the sky outside went instantly dark and storm clouds rolled in and thunder and lightning crashed around the building." Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Kelim, and he began to wonder, should he really be here. Was it even safe for him to be talking to Quaraun the Insane face to face like this? "Like they are a clubhouse and. . . and . . . they only help wealthy people with aches and pains, and. . . I don''t know. . . nothing any of them does ever seems like real magic." just a few miles away and it''s owned by the world''s largest transphobic royal pain in the ass. , he murders my great-great-grand children. And walks free because he has enough money to buy three district attorneys. That''s why I''m back here in 1849, right now. Did you know that? I have another grandson. Etiole. He''s in France right now, but in a few days, he''ll be arriving here." Salamander?" picked up another apple and took a bite out of it. "Tick tock, tick tock. We are starting yet another of Etiole''s clocks." four people to use this as a weapon, they way they did. Two to hold down the child. . ." They like heads, you know. Nail them to doors, with great frequency." Ten more to go." bureau who decided to kill my family, boil their heads in oil and nail them to my door. I''m returning the favour. Gypsy law. Eye for an eye. Tooth for tooth. Do exactly unto me as you want me to do unto you. my family to my door, and I will your family to your door in return. Let that be a lesson to you Kelim. Don''t double cross me. I''ll do to you, exactly what you do to me." Chapter 12 Part 5: Kelim Meets The Necromancer Quaraun''s brain. He died a horrible death, that I might live. If he was The Chosen One, he died before anyone had a chance to find out for certain. But there was something different about him. That''s why ZooLock chose him for my host. I was able to grown and reach my full potential with his body. Something I could not have done in another Elf." want me!" want me." Ophelia." need me, not trample me into the ground." need me. Whatever type that is." This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. now understood that this Elf was very self-conscious about his looks. Kelim lamented what he had said. Though Kelim did not regret it out of any concern for the Elf. Rather, Kelim regretted it because it seemed apparent that once concerned about his looks, the Elf had forgotten Kelim''s presence. Quaraun was too busy primping in the mirror. The Pink Necromancer was no longer concerned with helping Kelim to get Ophelia. And this was a problem for Kelim.
need her. To me that makes her more beautiful than anyone." need me." need her. . ." need her." want her to want me." Want is not a colour, Kelim." be with me." need her." want her. . ." Chapter 12 Part 6: Kelim Meets The Necromancer This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. want her."
. . . and but my soul, kind of. . . uhm.. I can''t get that back once I lose it, can I?" Chapter 12 Part 7: Kelim Meets The Necromancer . . . and but my soul, kind of. . . uhm.. I can''t get that back once I lose it, can I?" Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. need me." need you. Just make sure that''s how you word it when you drink the potion. One word out of place. . .. I won''t be responsible for what happens. And you''ll sign a contract to make sure of that. A Cupid Spell is what you are asking for. I''m not sure it''s what you actually want, but I''ll make it. It''ll take time. You come back to me, next week. I''ll have your spell. And the contract for your soul. She''ll love you forever, whether you love her back or not, and I know love, Boy, and I know, you don''t love her, but you''re just like the rest. You won''t listen to reason. You''ll have to learn the hard way, the nature of love. And how long forever really is. But it''s your life and you can do what you want with it. Who am I to stop you? You go home. And if next week, you still want the spell, I''ll be here with it." Swamp Hag''s hovel, running as fast as he could through the swamp, back out of the forest, and all the way to his house, where he jumped into bed and hid under the covers, terrified that the Necromancer had followed him and would pelt him with sea slugs in his sleep. Chapter 13 Part 1: The Truth Behind Kelims Lie Quaraun had attended a Guild meeting. The last meeting he''d attended, the Guild''s counsel had declared him a renegade wizard, a danger to society, and had ordered him to be executed. The Guild would have had to break their own codes to Thus Quaraun escaped. for two centuries, alone, never staying any place more than a few days, avoiding any village known to be the habitat of a Guild member. Quaraun struggled to break free of his attacker''s grasp, but Quaraun was a very small Elf, only standing 5''6" and barely weighing 130lbs. His attacker was a full two heads taller than him and far stronger. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. . The Elf squeal and scream trying desperately to push the man off of him. Quaraun was old and weak and frail, and lacked the strength to fight off his attacker. While he hated being accosted like this, he hated more the raging fury men went into, once they realized Quaraun was not what they thought he was. The girl screamed as the man mounted her and prepared to rape her. The girl''s cries echoed down through the alley, vibrating off the brick walls and reverberating into Quaraun''s soul. The man was on the ground struggling with the girl and did not notice Quaraun had returned. The Elf stood, not sure what exactly to do, and looked around the street to see if anything brought any ideas to mind. He knew using magic of any type in this town would attract the attention of the Guild, their headquarters being here. Near the corner of a nearby building Quaraun spied a dislodged brick, picked it up, whispered something to it and then dropped it on the man''s head. The brick, came down with a force far greater than capable of an object so small and knocked the man out cold. Chapter 13 Part 2: The Truth Behind Kelims Lie "I loved my children," Quaraun said. "But I loved BoomFuzzy more. I had no desire to choose between him or them. I loved them both. They turned my children against me. They made the choice for me." "How old were your children?" Ophelia the Lilac Fairy asked. "Ten and twelve. Two girls. Two boys. Two sets of twins." "They were so young." "They are dead now." "Your children?" "Everyone. All of them. I poisoned them all. Later. After. My father. My wife. My children. The people from the village. I executed them all. That''s the reason I''m wanted for murder. But it was not murder. They were evil people. That''s why it was not murder. They deserved to die. They tried to get away with their crimes. They claimed their corrupted atrocities to be respectable good deeds. Crimes masked as laws are still crimes." "You even killed your children?" "Yes. I did. I murdered my children." "Why?" "They all turned on me. Every one of them. People I trusted. People who loved me. People I loved. They tortured me. People I believed cared for me. People I cared for. Stoned me. People I admired. Beat me. People I cherished. They abandoned me. They hated me. There was no reason for it. I did nothing wrong. Turned their backs on me. Hit me in places you should never hit a man. I dared to share my love with the man I loved. A forbidden act, in their minds. A crime punishable by death. A harmless crime. We hurt no one. I bedded another man. That alone was crime enough to be punished by torture. My own father led them on. He hung me in the tree and stripped me naked for all to see. I hate being naked. I hate being touched." "Does it hurt?" "Hurt?" "Your. . . Where they cut you." She pointed at the Elf''s crotch. "It did when they did it. It was many years ago. I am healed now. Well, as healed as I can be." "And they did it in front of everyone? They cut you while your friends and family watched?" "Yes. My father did the cutting. He said I disgraced him as a son. And then after many days of hanging in humiliation, in the town square, they took me out into the woods, hung me another tree, and left me there, to be eaten by a Phooka. They sacrificed me to the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley." "But they couldn''t have sacrificed you. You''re still alive." "I know. I lived. I survived. They didn''t think I would. They didn''t know. . . My lover. . .. they never knew." "Knew what?" "That he was my lover." "Who was?" "The Phooka." "What Phooka?" she asked, confused by what the Elf was saying. He wasn''t speaking clearly. Only giving her half the information and thinking the rest silently in his own head. Leaving her confused by what he meant. "The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley." "The Elf Eater?" "Yes." "What about him?" "I sold my soul for his love." "Why would you do that?" "Phookas are shape shifters, they can be any one or anything they want to be. He lived in the village, disguised as an Elf. They didn''t know he was a shape shifter." "Did you know?" "I didn''t know, not then, not until they hung me in the tree to be killed by the Phooka. The Phooka came and slaughtered them before they had finished. He eat every one of them before turning on me, only he didn''t hurt me. I waited for him to to tear out my throat, to gut me and kill me and eat me as he had done the others, but instead, he cut me down and made love to me. Be careful what you wish for. I wished for his love, but I didn''t know what he was and I didn''t know the price I would have o pay to get it. In spite of my wounds. He still loved me, even after they mutilated me and left me unable to give my love to anyone. He took care of me, until I healed. It did not matter to him, what they had done to me. Even though I was damaged and not able to return his love, he still kept me as his lover. He pitied me. I was injured so badly that he could not bare to kill me. He made me his wife, taught me to receive his love like a woman. He shifted between BoomFuzzy and the Phooka, letting me see him as he truly was. That was when I realized BoomFuzzy was The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley and he would never hurt me. My lover wasn''t an Elf, he was a Phooka and a Necromancer. King Gwallmaiic, was the evillest Necromancer to ever walk the Earth and he was my lover, my BoomFuzzy wasn''t an Elf."This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. "The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley has murdered millions. He kills entire villages. He''s a horrible monster." "I know. I tried to kill him, because I knew what he was, and I couldn''t do it. Tis the nature of a spell cast by a wish. I wished for his love. To love him and be loved by him forever. The wish was granted. I got what I asked for, but at a terrible price. He loved me. I loved him and no matter how evil he was, I could not kill him, and no matter how much he lusted to eat my flesh, he could not kill me. The spell can not be broken. I''ve tried to break it so many times. I was so young when I made that wish. I didn''t know the power of wishes grants of the price that comes with spells cast by wishes. So I joined him. I became a Necromancer too. His love was true. It did not matter to him that I had been mutilated. He loved me any ways." "Can I see what they did to you?" "What do you mean?" "I''ve never seen a eunuch." "You wish to see what I have between my legs?" "Well, yes." "I''m sorry, My Dear, but that you will not see. I show no one what was done to me." "Why not?" "I did not like exposing myself when I was fully intact, I like doing so even less, now that I am damaged. Just know that I am damaged, and you and every other female, has nothing to fear from me. I am only able to be a vessel for the pleasure of other men now." "Are you and he still lovers?" "No. He died. A horrible death. In such pain and agony, lingering on for 3 days, suffering, alone, with no one to comfort him. No one to hear his cries. No one hold him as his body wracked with pain. My people killed him. They murdered him so horribly. They killed my BoomFuzzy and I could not live without him, so I brought him back. Oh! What have I done? He''s worse now than he was before. I turned him into a Lich. And now he lives on forever, killing tens of millions, whipping out entire nations and it''s my fault. I created him. And that is why your father wants me dead. That is why everyone wants me dead. I am the most evil wizard ever known. I created the Lich Lord that kills so many. That''s not what I wanted to happen. I just wanted to be his lover. That''s all I wanted. He''s a powerful lover. I swept away with the immense power of his passion. He is so intense. His addiction to sex is incredible. He is so full of rage and anger and passion and all that comes through in his love making. He had many lovers. Male and female. He took whomever he wanted, whither they wanted him or not. He raped me. I hate being raped, but he was different. I can''t explain it. His love was like a drug. I had to have more and more. I wanted him to love me and only me and no one else. I shouldn''t have cast that spell. I am so evil." Quaraun covered his face with his hands and burst into tears. "You know, it''s kind of hard to think of you as evil, when you''re dressed in a glittering pink dress and sitting in the middle of the street balling your eyes out over a dead lover." "I''m sorry. I''ve not had a good life. Pink distracts me from thoughts of death. I''ve tried to kill myself so many times, but I''m an Elf. Do you know how hard it is to kill an Elf? I try to occupy my mind with happy thoughts. Glitter send glows of light on everything. It''s so pretty. So happy. I need to surround myself with happy thoughts, to keep from slicing my wrists every day." Quaraun held out his arms, pulling back the sleeves so the girl could see the many scars and more recent slash mark covering his arms. "You''ve cut yourself! Why?" "I am so lonely. I am hunted and hated, abandoned and unloved. I have no one. I''m so alone. The entire Elven race, not just the Moon Elves, but every last Elf on the planet has cut me off of the Hive Mind. I am outcast. And I''m a coward. I try to kill myself to end my suffering and I haven''t the guts to do it properly." "I''m sorry." "All because I wanted to be loved. That''s all I wanted. For one man to love me. And he did, but he''s the only one. He loved me and for that the whole rest of the world hates me, and now he''s dead and I have no one." "If you''re the Elf Eater''s Necromancer, that makes you Quaraun the Insane." "I am Quaraun the Insane, last of the Moon Elves, Lover of the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, Murderer of Gibedon the Great, Resurrect of the Black Dragon of Fire Mountain, and I am the only one who can stop the Lich Lords, because I built them." The girl laughed. She obviously did not believe the Elf. "You are Quaraun the Insane! Haha! Oh you''re funny. I think you''re right, you got hit on the head too many times. Wait til I tell my father I meet Quaraun the Insane." "Please don''t. Please. I don''t want to hurt you. I don''t want to hurt anyone." The girl wasn''t listening. "He''ll love it. He''s had it out for Quaraun for decades. The whole Guild has. He''s the most wanted wizard out there. There is a huge reward on his head¡­." Quaraun heard a sound. The girl looked to see the rapist, groaning and getting back up. "You little bitch of an Elf, wait till I get my hands on you¡­." he said to Quaraun as he pulled out another knife. The girl turned back to Quaraun but he had scuttled out of the light back into the shadows. "Tell no one you saw me, please, I beg you," he said to the girl as he disappeared back down the dark alleyway, leaving her to the fate of the man whom had attacked them both. ~o0o~ "Yes," Quaraun said to himself as he remembered the day in question. Quaraun contemplated the possibility of how Kelim might have come to believe the events occurring as they had. "He could have shown up after. Hmmmm. Possible. Entirely possible. I did leave. She could have been attacked again. Yes. Maybe the little Pixie is telling the truth. But if that''s the same day. . . The same girl. Then the girl he thinks he''s in love with, is Finderu''s daughter. Oh my. Oh my, my, my! Oh what a fortuitous turn of events. But it could be a trap. I must prepare for this, in case he comes back. I must tell Ghirardelli. She''ll be so pleased." "Do you hear that Ghirardelli?" Quaraun asked the swamp hag as he pulled her head out of his heart bag. "If all goes well, you and Gibedon will have company soon. Finderu will be joining you. Isn''t that marvellous?"