Iron Hooves and Burning Roads, Krampus on Wheels
{TW: I think this requires a trigger warning.}
A Pink Necromancer Fiction Short, featuring The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley

Part 1 is here: The Red Hakama

Iron Hooves and Burning Roads, Krampus on Wheels

The air reeked of oil and scorched rubber. Motor fumes clung to the icy wind, a foul stench that choked the frozen streets.

Quaraun stood on the broken asphalt, leaning on his cane, watching the bandit camp flicker with firelight. Behind him, the wreckage of his caravan smouldered. Shattered wood, ripped silk, trampled bodies half-buried in the frost.

Human work.

Humans had attacked The UnSeelie Camp, while Quaraun was at the market.

They’d come through the night on bikes — big, black monstrosities belching smoke and screaming through the forest on spiked wheels. Bandits in studded leather, faces hidden behind tinted visors. They’d come for the silk. For Quaraun.

Big mistake.

BoomFuzzy had warned them.

Quaraun’s blue eyes narrowed toward the tree line. The engines were getting louder. Yellow lights flickered through the trees.

BoomFuzzy was out there.

And they didn’t know what was coming.

A low rumble rose beneath the sound of the bikes. A deeper growl. Bone-deep, vibrating through the ice. The sound of something big and angry waking up.

A red light flickered between the trees. Then another. And another.

Headlights.

A shape emerged from the dark.

The Elf Eater.

The Phooka, in his Krampus form.

A creature of nightmares.

Tall. Massive. Shaggy black fur hanging in thick, matted ropes from broad shoulders. Horns gleamed beneath the flickering neon haze.

Twisted and jagged, curling up over a battered helmet strapped over his wild grey dreadlocks. A long black trench coat swept the snow behind him, dragging across the ground beneath the chains looped over his massive chest.

Spikes lined the sleeves.

Cloven hooves crunched into the frost.

And behind him — the bike.

It was huge.

A low-slung black monstrosity with chrome fangs curling over the wheel wells. The engine pulsed like a heartbeat, steam hissing from the sides. Spiked chains coiled around the frame, dragging behind it like metallic whips. The seat was upholstered in purple tartan leather. The handlebars curved up like a bull’s horns. Black runes flickered across the gas tank in bloody-red neon.

BoomFuzzy stepped into the clearing, claws flexing. He adjusted his goggles, his gold-plated teeth flashing in the moonlight.

Crude makeshift shelters lined the overpass, tattered tarps billowing like rotting sails.

Burned-out cars stacked like barricades, rusted machine guns mounted on twisted frames.

A war camp.

A gang’s den.

BoomFuzzy knelt beside his bike.

It wasn’t just a bike.

It was a monster.

Blackened steel welded into jagged spikes and twisted antlers curling from the handlebars. Chrome skulls mounted on the fender, their empty sockets burning with flickering red LEDs. Chains snaked down from the frame, dragging behind like iron tendrils. The engine rumbled low and deep, snarling like a hungry beast. Smoke poured from the vents.

Hot, choking smoke, thick with charred incense and brimstone.

BoomFuzzy’s fingers flexed on the throttle. His claws gleamed sharp under the red neon glow of his bike’s lights. The leather of his black hakama creaked as he shifted, adjusting his purple tartan sash. His silver goggles caught the light, hiding his pale, dead eyes.

“You sure ya want tae watch, Love?” BoomFuzzy grunted, voice gravel-thick. His gold-plated teeth gleamed when he smiled.

“I always watch,” Quaraun murmured, voice soft but cold.

The bandits were laughing in their camp. Fires crackled, their stolen loot piled high.

Bolts of silk, glass bottles of absinthe, and bloodied knives looted from Quaraun’s caravan.

Engines growled in the distance, a low, guttural hum that rattled the ice-caked trees. Pale moonlight filtered through the black branches, fractured beams cutting through the toxic haze that lingered above the snow-covered ground. The air stank of burnt oil and stale blood.

They hadn’t seen the bike yet.

“Ya ken what happens next,” BoomFuzzy rumbled.

“Yes.”

The lead biker cut his engine. Stood. Towering, seven feet of cybernetic muscle encased in reinforced combat leather. Cybernetic limbs glinted under the light. His face was half-metal, one glowing red eye cutting through the dark.

“Well, well,” the biker sneered. “Looks like we missed one of you silk traders.”

Quaraun’s fingers curled over the Rainbow Wand. His silver hair coiled and uncoiled over the ice.

“I would not say that,” Quaraun murmured.

BoomFuzzy growled. The sound rolled through the clearing like a landslide. The chains at his sides rattled as they began to slither.

“You must be the guard dog,” the biker said. “I think we’ll keep the Elf. He’ll sell well.”

BoomFuzzy’s smile widened. His lips curled back from jagged, golden fangs. His goggles flashed as his head tilted toward Quaraun.

“Love,” BoomFuzzy growled. “Did he just call me a dog?”

Quaraun’s pale pink pupiled eyes gleamed under the moonlight.

“He did.”

The lead biker’s cybernetic hand whined as he flexed his fingers.

“Maybe you ought to sit down before you get hurt, old man.”

BoomFuzzy’s claws clicked together.

Chains hissed across the ice.

“Ya dinnae ken who yer messin’ with, laddie,” BoomFuzzy said, stepping toward the biker. His hooves clinked against the ice, steam curling from his breath as his shoulders rolled beneath his trench coat. “I’m nae a guard dog. I’m ya worst nightmare straight from the pits of Hell.”

BoomFuzzy twisted the throttle. The bike roared like a demon waking from a nightmare. Sparks shot from the pipes, spitting fire as the wheels spun.

The ground rumbled beneath Quaraun’s boots.

BoomFuzzy grinned wide, too wide. A jagged, twisted smile splitting his face. His goggles glinted red as he pulled a black iron long beaked plague mask down over his face.

Curved horns crowned his head, black as tar, curling back like blades.

He kicked the bike into gear.

The chains screamed across the pavement as BoomFuzzy shot forward. Smoke poured from the tires, rubber shrieking as the black machine tore down the crumbled asphalt. Sparks spat from the rusted metal plating along the wheels.

He hit the first barricade at full speed.

The twisted metal exploded beneath his bike. Chunks of steel and broken glass flew like shrapnel. The bandits jumped to their feet, scrambling for weapons.

Too late.

BoomFuzzy was already there.

He twisted the handlebars. Chains lashed out from the bike’s sides, snapping like iron vipers. A bandit shrieked as one of the spiked chains curled around his throat. BoomFuzzy yanked hard. The man hit the pavement with a wet crack.

The bike spun, spraying sparks as BoomFuzzy looped through the camp like a whirlwind of smoke and steel. His chains danced in the air, biting deep into flesh, dragging men from their feet.

A shotgun roared from the shadows.

BoomFuzzy laughed.

He lifted one hand and caught the slug in his palm. The metal sizzled against his skin, smoke curling from his palm as if the bullet had landed in a forge.

“Nice try, laddie,” BoomFuzzy growled. “But I’m a Lich, laddie and ye canna hurt me.”

The bandit’s eyes widened.

BoomFuzzy’s chain shot out again, snaring the gunman’s wrist.

A brutal tug and the man’s arm tore free at the shoulder.

“Unicorn…” Quaraun’s voice whispered through the air.

The chain shot back to BoomFuzzy’s wrist, rattling and clanking as it coiled around his arm like a steel serpent.

BoomFuzzy reached down, claws curling around the bandit’s ankle. He dragged the screaming man to the flames.

“Please!” the bandit sobbed. “I-I didn’t know! We didn’t know he was yours!”

“Ya do now,” BoomFuzzy growled.

He flung the man into the fire.

The screams were short.

The bike roared to life behind him. The chains snapped taut, twisting around his arms like metallic serpents. Sparks hissed beneath the wheels as the spikes bit into the ice.

The biker raised his arm , his cybernetic limb flexing with hydraulic strength.

“Old man, you’re — “

BoomFuzzy lunged.

He was fast.

A blur of black fur and chrome. His claws closed over the biker’s throat. The man’s feet left the ground as BoomFuzzy slammed him into a tree.

Bark exploded in a shower of splinters.

The biker screamed. BoomFuzzy leaned in close. His golden teeth gleamed beneath the ice-crusted fog curling from his breath.

“Dog, eh?” BoomFuzzy whispered. “Ya still think I’m a dog?”

His jaw distended. Rows of serrated fangs gleamed beneath his curling lips.

“Ya ain’t never seen a Phooka before, have ya?”

The biker’s red cyber-eye flickered.

BoomFuzzy’s tongue curled over the man’s throat.

“Naughty lad. I’m the Elf Eater of pepper Valley, Lich lord of Fire Mountain, and I don’t just eat Elves, ya know.”

The biker screamed. Until BoomFuzzy bit down.

Blood sprayed across the snow.

“Holy shit!” one of the other bikers shouted. He spun toward his bike. “We gotta get the fuck out of — ”

BoomFuzzy turned toward him. Chains slithered over his arms.

“Oh no, laddie,” BoomFuzzy growled. His grin widened. “Ya don’t get off that easy. Come to pappa, you’re the guest of honour for tonight grand UnSeelie feast.”

He yanked the chains. The spikes on the ends tore through the frost, wrapped around the man’s leg, and ripped it off.

The biker hit the ground hard, screaming.

BoomFuzzy stepped over him. His cloven hoof pressed against the man’s chest. His eyes gleamed white beneath his goggles.

“Ya hurt me wee pink JellyElf,” BoomFuzzy said softly. “Didn’t think old granddaddy Krampus would come callin’, eh?”

The man’s trembling hands pressed against BoomFuzzy’s hoof.

“Please!”

BoomFuzzy’s mouth curled into a savage smile.

“Nae.”

The chains snapped.

The last biker staggered toward his bike. He revved the engine . Wheels spinning against the frost . When a flash of pink light lanced through the air.

The Rainbow Wand’s red beam sliced through the front wheel. The bike exploded in a shower of sparks.

The last biker tumbled across the ice.

BoomFuzzy crouched over him. Claws slid beneath his helmet, prying it off to reveal a pale, bloodied face.

“Naughty,” BoomFuzzy whispered. “Naughty! Naughty! Thought ya could out run The Pink Necromancer and his Lich?”

The biker whimpered.

BoomFuzzy’s mouth stretched wide. Fangs glinted.

Quaraun watched from the edge of the clearing, his cane resting against his shoulder.

BoomFuzzy’s mouth closed over the biker’s face.

Crunch.

Silence.

Chains rattled as BoomFuzzy turned back to the bike. He twisted the throttle, revving the engine. The pipes belched flames. A sickly green fire that licked up the twisted frame.

The bandits still breathing scattered into the dark.

BoomFuzzy didn’t follow.

“Let ’em run,” BoomFuzzy muttered, voice low. “They’ll tell the story. Spread fear in us far and wide.”

He rode back to Quaraun, smoke trailing behind him. His black iron mask hung loose around his neck, blood spattered across his fur-trimmed coat.

Steam curled through the frigid air as BoomFuzzy straightened, chains dragging behind him. His lips were smeared with red. He padded toward Quaraun, strong arms settling around the Elf’s delicate waist.

Quaraun’s gloved hands brushed over BoomFuzzy’s blood-soaked coat.

“Ya al’right, Love?” BoomFuzzy growled, breath hot against Quaraun’s ear.

Quaraun’s gaze flicked to the twisted corpses, then to the wreckage of the gang’s camp. His fingers adjusted the sleeve of his pink silk robe.

“Perfect,” Quaraun whispered. “They will not touch me again.”

BoomFuzzy grinned.

“Aye. They won’t.”

He grabbed Quaraun’s waist, dragged him forward, and kissed him hard. The taste of blood and smoke lingered on BoomFuzzy’s lips.

“You smell like gasoline,” Quaraun muttered.

BoomFuzzy grinned wider, pressing his forehead against Quaraun’s.

“Aye,” he chuckled. “Smells like victory.”

BoomFuzzy chuckled, pulling Quaraun close as the black bike rumbled behind him.

“Hop on, Love,” BoomFuzzy purred. “Let’s ride.” 

Quaraun and BoomFuzzy

The Pink Necromancer, Moon Elf silk weaver & merchant: Quaraun on Noodle Beach. His master chef Phooka turned Lich husband: BoomFuzzy with his 1968 VW Bus Beach Noodle Food Truck. And their on again/off again mad scientist Sheep Demon lover: GhoulSpawn with his 1974 AMC Gremlin time machine. Time Travel setting swings back and forth between 40th century Maine after a comet hit the moon decimating the planet, and the 1970s, Maine. Quaraun in the main character, he and BoomFuzzy are a married gay couple. GhoulSpawn is their shared live-in lover. Art by Wendy Christine Allen.

BoomFuzzy

Quaraun

GhoulSpawn and BoomFuzzy

GhoulSpawn

GhoulSpawn and Quaraun

Faeries vs Elves (In The Quaraun Series) A Pink Necromancer World Lore Post

The Pink Necromancer: The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane aka The Twighlight Manor Series

🌸🦄🌸 Furry Yaoi Fiction about Elves and Faeries and Satyrs and Demons and Unicorns and Technomancer Wizards and Liches living in a Lighthouse and surviving as Travelling Merchants and Food Truck Chefs in Cyberpunk Dystopian 40th Century Maine, and Zombie Apocalypse and Time Travel but it’s Slice of Life Vignettes of Mundane Daily Lives of The UnSeelie Court’s Royal Family trying to survive after a comet hit the moon and turned the Earth into a CyberPunk Ice-Age. 🌸🦄🌸

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