The Phooka's Dragon School

The Phooka’s Dragon School

The sky above was a black void, thick with dust and debris from the comet’s wrath. Not a single star pierced the veil. Night was endless and absolute, unbroken by even the faintest celestial glimmer.

Only the faint glow of campfires and scattered bioluminescent fungi clinging to ancient trees gave the caravan any reprieve from total darkness.

The pink silk tent, shimmering faintly in the firelight, stood at the heart of the encampment, regal and strange. Around it, a crescent of smaller tents huddled together, their canvas walls shivering under the cool night breeze.

Inside the silk yurt, the air was heavy with the fragrance of fur pelts and the lingering scent of Quaraun’s incense.

The heady aroma of patchouli mingled with the earthy bite of sandalwood. Delicate notes of rosewater drifted above it all, tempering the heaviness. Beneath the floral sweetness lingered the faint, narcotic tendrils of opium smoke. The blend was uniquely Quaraun’s, clinging to his tent and robes, as inescapable as the Elf himself.

The Elf lay curled on a nest of soft furs near the central fire pit, his breath shallow but peaceful. His long silver tentacle hair draped across his fragile form, catching glimmers of light with each slow rise and fall of his chest. Exhaustion clung to him like a shadow, the burden of his pregnancy weighing heavily upon his frail body.

Quaraun’s silver tentacles lay coiled around him, glinting ominously in the firelight. They shimmered like strands of living moonlight, deceptively beautiful but deadly. Each tendril bore stinging nematocysts, primed to unleash venom potent enough to paralyze or kill. Even in sleep, the tentacles pulsed faintly, curling protectively around their master.

BoomFuzzy sat cross-legged beside him, silent and watchful. The warmth of the fire painted golden highlights across his dark, weathered face. His steampunk goggles perched atop his head, lenses glinting like twin moons.

The Phooka’s expression softened as he watched his beloved sleep, his usual mischievous grin absent. Beneath the fierce exterior of a king and warlord lurked a heart that worried far too much for the wellbeing of this stubborn Elf.

The sudden clattering of hooves and the unmistakable jangle of GhoulSpawn's coat buttons clanking against his utility belt, shattered the tranquillity. The Sheep Demon barrelled into the tent, his curly golden fleece glinting under the firelight.

"BoomFuzzy! The Goblins are at it again—"

BoomFuzzy raised a hand, his eyes narrowing.

"Shush, ya noisy goat. He's sleepin’."

GhoulSpawn halted, blinking in surprise.

"Oh. Right. Sorry. I didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep already." He lowered his voice, though it still carried an excitable edge. "I just thought you'd want to know the other tents are up, and everyone's waitin' for your orders."

"Aye, well, they'll wait longer. Quaraun's exhausted. This bairn's been rough on 'im." BoomFuzzy’s voice softened as he glanced at the sleeping Elf. "We oughtnae be travelin’ so much. He needs rest. I'm thinkin' we stay here a few days. Maybe weeks. Let 'im heal. Might be best to stay til after the wee one is born. If the strain of travel too much we risk losing me Elf and me bairn."

GhoulSpawn shifted uneasily, clearly not used to such gentle concern from the King of the UnSeelie Court.

"If that's what you think is best."

"It is." BoomFuzzy’s tone left no room for debate. "An' tonight, ye'll be sleepin' in yer own tent."

GhoulSpawn's brow furrowed.

"My own tent? But… uhm… I… I don’t have one."

BoomFuzzy's expression darkened.

"Ya've been with us three bloody years, Ghouly. Ya oughta have yer own tent by now."

"I... didn't know that was a thing," GhoulSpawn admitted sheepishly. "Do you have your own tent?"

BoomFuzzy grunted.

"Aye, I’ve got two. I’m the King. One for sleepin’, which I dinnae use 'cause I prefer stayin’ here with me wee pink JellyElf. He lets me. And one for court business, though I ain’t used it in years. Other factions’ve been too quiet for that nonsense."

GhoulSpawn’s utility belt rattled as he strode across the tent, a chaotic symphony of clinking vials, metal instruments, and gears. The sound echoed in sharp contrast to the tent’s tranquillity. His coat buttons, large and decorative, occasionally struck against the cluttered belt, adding to the cacophony.

GhoulSpawn glanced around, perplexed.

"So... this tent's Quaraun's?"

"Aye. His personal lab an' workshop." BoomFuzzy’s voice softened again. "An' his sanctuary. Now, away with ya. Find a tent or build one. But let 'im rest."

GhoulSpawn opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it.

"Right. Sleep well, I guess," he muttered, retreating with a clatter of hooves.

BoomFuzzy sighed as the tent flap settled back into place, restoring the peace. He looked down at Quaraun, brushing a gentle hand across the Elf’s silver hair.

"We'll stay here, me love," he whispered softly. "Long as ya need."

The fire crackled, its warmth wrapping around them both as the night stretched on, silent but for the creak of the pines and the steady, rhythmic breath of the Pink Necromancer.

The wind roared through the towering pines, battering the tents and shrieking like a banshee lost in endless fury. Canvas walls flapped violently, straining against their stakes. Branches whipped and cracked, bowing under the relentless onslaught. The cold was a vicious thing, biting deep into flesh, making even the warm glow of the campfire seem feeble and hollow.

GhoulSpawn’s cloven hooves clattered across the frozen ground, kicking up dust and brittle pine needles. His digitigrade legs moved with an awkward grace, the fur on his lower limbs thick enough to guard against the biting cold.

The tent flap rustled softly as GhoulSpawn peeked back inside. His golden fleece glimmered faintly in the firelight.

"BoomFuzzy?" he whispered.

The Phooka glanced up from where he sat near Quaraun.

"What is it now, Goat?"

"I—uh—I don’t have a tent yet," GhoulSpawn admitted sheepishly. "I’ve always just stayed in this tent. Can I stay here? I promise I won’t wake him."

BoomFuzzy sighed, his gruff demeanour softening.

"Aye, fine. But ya best keep yer bleatin’ mouth shut."

"I will."

GhoulSpawn grinned, settling himself quietly near the edge of the pelts.

BoomFuzzy shook his head.

"Always underfoot, like a wee lost lamb," he muttered.

GhoulSpawn smirked.

"I'm a Sheep."

"Aye, sure ye are," BoomFuzzy grumbled, settling back into silence.

Just then, Quaraun’s eyes flickered open.

BoomFuzzy knelt beside Quaraun, brushing a hand over his partner’s belly.

"How's me wee Pink Pumpkin doin'?"

Quaraun exhaled slowly, a hand resting protectively on the taut curve.

"I think it is twins again."

BoomFuzzy blinked, his silver eyes widening behind his goggles.

"Twins? Again? Ya’ve given birth to a dozen sets o’ twins already!"

"Yes," Quaraun sighed. "They always come in pairs with me. Not uncommon for Elves though. We often give birth to twins. I would be unusual if we did not."

BoomFuzzy chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well more reason for ya to rest.” BoomFuzzy kissed Quaraun’s face. “Go back to sleep.”

The next day…

The comet dust muted sunlight filtered through the thick canopy of ancient pines, glinting off frost-covered branches and scattering faint prisms across the camp. The air was crisp and cold, biting even through layered wool and fur. Despite the lingering winter chill, there was a sense of warmth and purpose as the caravan transformed their temporary camp into a semi-permanent settlement.

BoomFuzzy’s voice thundered across the camp as he barked orders at the Kelpies stationed near the forest's edge.

"Oi! Ya useless nags! Keep yer bloody eyes sharp! JellyElf’s in no condition tae run or fight. I want nae threats slippin’ past ya, aye? Ya first job is to protect me Elf."

The Kelpies snorted in response, tails flicking with begrudging obedience.

Quaraun sat at the entrance of his pink silk tent, the thick curtains tied back to let in the weak daylight. His frail frame was wrapped in a thick knitted blanket, and he reclined against a massive beanbag cushion stuffed with down and wild grasses.

Quaraun shifted against the plush beanbag, wincing as he adjusted the thick blanket draped over his lap. The weight of his swollen belly pressed heavily against his fragile frame, making standing a near impossibility. His breath came slow and measured, each rise and fall of his chest laboured.

"Dammit," he muttered, resting a hand atop the gentle curve. "Wears me down quicker than a battle."

Several of his half-Phooka and half-Satyr Elf children clustered around him, their tiny faces eager as they focused on their embroidery hoops.

“Remember,” Quaraun instructed gently, his voice soft but firm. “Your stitches must be even and precise. Proper Elven embroidery is not just decoration — it is art. It tells a story. And you all shall look like right proper Elven nobility when you are done.”

His slender fingers, pale and graceful despite the golden prosthetics gleaming at his wrists, demonstrated a delicate stitch. The silk thread shimmered in hues of pale pink and silver as he pulled it through the fabric. The children mimicked his movements with varying degrees of success, some tongues sticking out in fierce concentration.

One of Quaraun’s handmaids approached, balancing a steaming glass of spiced tea on a silver tray.

"Here, milord," she offered softly. "It'll ease the morning sickness."

Quaraun accepted it with trembling fingers, his lips brushing the rim.

"Do ya need anything else, milord?" the handmaid asked, concern in her voice.

"No, just quiet. Too tired for much else."

A mischievous Phooka child with wild black curls held up her fabric triumphantly.

“Mine looks like a unicorn!”

Quaraun arched a thin brow, examining the chaotic swirls of thread that vaguely resembled a horned beast.

“A rather abstract unicorn, but aye, creativity is commendable.”

A young half-Satyr girl with soft curls set down her embroidery hoop and crawled closer to Quaraun.

"Daddy, can I feel the baby?" she asked, eyes wide with wonder.

Quaraun arched a thin brow but nodded.

"Gently, yes."

Her small hand rested on his belly, where a sudden, sharp kick made her giggle.

"Tis strong!"

Quaraun smiled faintly.

"Yes, already fighting its way into this world."

Nearby, BoomFuzzy’s booming voice cut through the camp like the snap of a whip.

“Ya lot, stop standin’ about like blitherin’ idiots! I said go gather lichen an’ mushrooms! We ain’t gon’ starve jus’ cause yer lazy arses don’t wanna get yer boots muddy! If we’re gonna be here a few months, we need to scout the area! Move yar bloomin’ arses!”

Gnomes scattered in every direction, baskets bouncing against their backs as they scurried into the woods.

BoomFuzzy stood in the centre of the camp, clad in his black hakama and purple kilt, his gold-embroidered haori billowing in the breeze. His dreadlocks were tied back with purple ribbons, and his thick woolly beard bristled as he barked more orders at the Goblins hauling bog stones from the forest.

“Stack them higher, ya daft wee imps! I’m buildin’ ovens, not a stone circle for dancin’ under the bloody moon!”

The Goblins grumbled but obeyed, sweating under the weight of the heavy stones as they formed the foundations of massive baking kilns.

BoomFuzzy’s large cooking area was already taking shape — tables arranged in a neat arc, pots and cauldrons gleaming in the pale light.

On the far side of the camp, GhoulSpawn was practically vibrating with excitement as he oversaw the construction of his very own science lab tent.

The Cotswold Sheep Satyr tinkered with a blueprint spread across a flat rock, his cloven hooves tapping excitedly against the frozen ground.

Goblins, less enthused but under BoomFuzzy’s orders to assist, hammered stakes and secured ropes under his direction.

“This’ll be brilliant,” GhoulSpawn muttered to himself, golden fleece gleaming as he leaned over the plans. “Finally, my own space! I can build everything! Quantum portals, perpetual energy generators, maybe even a trans-dimensional spice rack…”

One of the Goblins snorted.

“Oi, Goat, ye talkin’ to yerself again?”

“I’m a Sheep!” GhoulSpawn snapped, waving a wrench at the Goblin.

“Looks like a Goat, sounds like a Goat,” the Goblin muttered under his breath, earning a glare from GhoulSpawn.

Despite the ribbing, GhoulSpawn’s spirits remained high. He had spent most of his life as an outsider, orphaned and wandering through time and space. Being given his own tent was more than just a convenience — it was a symbol that he was truly accepted by the UnSeelie Court.

Back at the pink silk tent, Quaraun glanced up from his embroidery as BoomFuzzy approached, his booming presence momentarily softened.

“How’s me wee JellyElf?” BoomFuzzy asked, crouching beside Quaraun and brushing a stray tentacle of silver hair from the Elf’s face.

“Tired,” Quaraun admitted. “But content. The children are learning well.”

BoomFuzzy’s gaze flicked to the cluster of children, who were now embroiled in a debate over bead colours.

“Aye, they’ll be proper artisans yet. Ya’ve got the patience of a saint, Love.”

Quaraun smiled faintly.

“It is peaceful, here with them. I needed this.”

BoomFuzzy nodded, his expression softening further.

“We’ll stay as long as ya need. No rush.”

As the camp bustled with activity, the warmth of family and belonging settled over them like a thick, protective blanket. The wild world beyond the camp’s borders could wait. For now, they were together, building something more than just a camp — they were building a home.

A few nights later…

The camp glowed with golden lanterns strung from tall poles and tent lines, casting warm light over the icy ground. Despite the frozen wasteland beyond the encampment, the air near the grand tables thrummed with life and joy, fuelled by the scent of BoomFuzzy’s culinary wonders wafting through the night.

BoomFuzzy had outdone himself.

Long feast tables groaned under the weight of delicacies — trays piled with golden-crusted lobster rolls, steaming tureens of creamy clam chowder brimming with fat clams, delicate baked brie oozing beneath crisp pastry shells, and towers of succulent fruit tarts glazed to glistening perfection. Bowls of decadent macaroni and cheese sat beside platters of herbed breads, their crusts crackling under the gentle heat of enchanted warming stones.

Everything smelled rich, warm, and inviting — a rare indulgence in a world often haunted by scarcity.

Quaraun sat at the head of the largest table, swathed in layers of thick pink silk robes and wrapped snugly in a soft knitted blanket. His face was paler than usual, with a sheen of weariness clinging to his delicate features. One hand rested protectively over his rounded belly, his twelve foot long jellyfish tentacles of silver hair curling across his shoulders and lap, their gentle luminescence catching the lantern light.

His handmaids fluttered around him like anxious birds, smoothing his blankets, refilling his glass with rosewater tea, and fussing over every detail of his comfort.

"I swear," Quaraun muttered as one tucked another cushion behind his back. "You smother me with kindness."

BoomFuzzy sauntered over, wiping his flour-dusted hands on the folds of his purple tartan great kilt. His oversized goggles gleamed in the firelight as he surveyed Quaraun with a critical eye.

"Ya look like ya've nae eaten a thing all night, JellyElf," he said, placing a hand on Quaraun’s shoulder. "Ya dinnae want me tae force-feed ye, do ye?"

"I have eaten," Quaraun assured him, though his plate was still mostly untouched.

"Eat more," BoomFuzzy insisted. "Ya need tae keep yer strength up for the wee ones."

A ripple of laughter and shrieks echoed through the camp as Quaraun’s many children dashed between the tables, whooping and playing games of chase. Their half-Elf, half-Phooka, and half-Satyr features shimmered in the lantern light — some with delicate Elven ears, others with tufted tails or curling horns. Their joy was infectious, weaving through the gathered crowd of Gnomes, Goblins, Kelpies, FarDarrig, Spriggans, and Leprechauns. Even the usually dour Kelpies snorted with amusement as children darted around their hooves.

GhoulSpawn lounged near the edge of the gathering, grinning proudly beneath the bright orange and yellow striped canvas of his new tent. His coat pockets jingled with the clatter of tools as he leaned against one of BoomFuzzy’s kiln stones, his golden fleece catching the firelight.

Quaraun watched the festivities with a rare, contented smile, though his expression faltered when BoomFuzzy returned, this time holding a bottle of absinthe, which he had just taken from a Goblin whom was about to serve it to Quaraun.

Quaraun’s eyes lit up at the sight.

"Ah, Unicorn, you have read me mind."

BoomFuzzy shook his head firmly, setting the bottle well out of reach.

"Nae tonight, Love. Ya're pregnant."

Quaraun’s smile soured.

"Ya've nae issue wi' me drinkin' it when I’m nae wi' child."

"Exactly," BoomFuzzy said, crossing his arms. "But ya are wi' child. Drink yer rosewater tea like a good Elf."

"You are a cruel creature," Quaraun grumbled, though there was no real venom in his tone.

"Ya'll thank me when ya've got healthy bairns bouncin' on yer lap." BoomFuzzy grinned wickedly. "Besides, I ken ya'll sneak a drop when I’m nae lookin’."

Quaraun huffed but returned to sipping his tea, casting a wistful glance at the forbidden bottle.

The night carried on with music and laughter. Goblins thumped their makeshift drums, while FarDarrig sent wild, haunting melodies spiralling through the air. The scent of BoomFuzzy’s feast mingled with the crisp tang of the icy wind, creating a heady atmosphere that made even the most hardened creatures of the UnSeelie Court relax.

BoomFuzzy sat beside Quaraun, his weight causing the bench to creak.

"Ya alright, me wee Pink JellyElf?"

"Yes," Quaraun sighed, his voice softer now. "Tired, but... it's a good night."

BoomFuzzy nodded, his gaze sweeping over the lively camp.

"Aye, it is. Even Ghouly’s got his own tent now. He looks like a bairn wi' a new toy."

Quaraun chuckled faintly.

"Glinta deserves it. He's family now."

BoomFuzzy's expression softened.

"Aye, that he is. He’s fathered enough of ya babies now."

“You have fathered just as many.”

The two sat in companionable silence, watching their chaotic, beautiful court revel in the feast BoomFuzzy had prepared. Despite the hardships of their world, nights like this reminded them that joy was still possible, even in the midst of ruin.

Quaraun leaned against BoomFuzzy's shoulder, exhaustion tugging at his eyelids.

"Thank ya," he whispered.

"For what?"

"For all this. For lookin' after me. For... everything."

BoomFuzzy's grin softened into something gentler.

"Always, Love."

As the night deepened, the sounds of the feast began to mellow, laughter fading into contented murmurs. Quaraun's children curled up on blankets near the fire, their embroidered garments shimmering in the firelight. GhoulSpawn tinkered with something near his tent, his golden fleece catching the last flickers of lantern light.

BoomFuzzy stood, brushing crumbs from his great kilt.

"Come on, Love. Let's get ya tae bed."

Quaraun nodded, his weariness finally overtaking him. BoomFuzzy helped him up, supporting him as they made their way back to the pink silk tent.

The feast had been grand, the night joyous, but now it was time for rest. And as BoomFuzzy tucked Quaraun into their nest of fur pelts, he knew that their greatest joy was still to come. Quaraun drifted off to sleep.

The morning mist clung to the frozen landscape, tendrils of frost curling around the vibrant fabric of the encampment’s many colourful tents. Sunlight glimmered weakly through cracks in the grey clouds, casting shimmering light over the feast remnants from the previous night. Crumbs of buttery pastries and shards of fruit skins lay scattered across long wooden tables, now deserted but for a few mischievous Kelpies licking syrupy drips from the benches.

Quaraun stirred late from his nest of fur pelts inside his pink silk tent, a rare indulgence prompted by his wearied body and swollen belly. The heavy weight of pregnancy pulled at his frame, making each day increasingly difficult to navigate. Normally fastidious, he would have risen hours ago to clean up the camp and oversee his handmaids, but this morning exhaustion had held him captive.

The piercing cry of a child — no, many children — shattered his brief moment of peace.

Quaraun’s eyes flew open, the tent flaps rippling as a sudden gust of wind swept through.

A looming shadow passed over the silk walls. His heart skipped a beat, and panic gripped him as he recognized the unmistakable shape — a long, serpentine dragon circling overhead.

“Kelpies!” Quaraun screamed, calling for the guards. “Protect the children!” Quaraun’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding despite the tremor of fear underlying it. “There’s a dragon!”

He struggled to his feet, wincing as his lame leg protested and his heavy belly threw off his balance. Hobbling as quickly as he could manage, he burst from the tent, robes billowing around him in a swirl of glittering pink silk.

The sight that met him was not one he had prepared for.

Dozens of small serpentine dragons with gleaming scales and feathery manes swooped and soared above the camp, their cries blending into a a clamour of joyful shrieks and whoops.

Iridescent wings beat the air, creating gusts that sent loose leaves and stray bits of silk flapping across the frostbitten ground. Children — his children — were laughing and roaring, their bodies twisting in midair as they gleefully experimented with new shapes.

At the centre of the chaos stood BoomFuzzy, grinning like a man possessed. His stocky frame shimmered, shifting seamlessly from his usual Faerie form to a tiny purple Shetland pony Unicorn with silver hooves, and then to a magnificent lilac Chinese dragon with gleaming scales and a mane of fluffy white fur. He soared into the air, looping gracefully before landing back on the frost-covered ground.

Set up around him were art easels displaying meticulously detailed charts of various types of long, serpentine Chinese dragons. BoomFuzzy gestured animatedly at the diagrams, barking instructions to the children as they flapped and tumbled through the sky.

“You’ve got tae hold yer form steady, else yer scales’ll fall off!” BoomFuzzy called out. “Aye, ya there, keep yer tail from waggin’ like a dog’s! Ya’re a dragon, nae a bloody sheepdog!”

A small blue dragon with stubby wings wobbled uncertainly before crashing into a pile of snow. The child-turned-dragon giggled, shaking frost from its shimmering hide.

Quaraun’s eye twitched violently. His scowl deepened as he scanned the chaotic scene, his brain struggling to process what in the Moon Goddess’s name was happening.

“Unicorn!” Quaraun’s voice was sharp enough to slice through the noise.

BoomFuzzy, mid-transformation back to his Faerie form, paused and turned, his lilac scales shimmering before melting away into ebony skin. He grinned wide, gold teeth gleaming.

“Ah, me sweet Sugar Plum, yer awake!” he called cheerfully, completely unfazed by Quaraun’s glare.

Quaraun’s hands trembled as he fought to contain his fury.

“What is this madness?”

BoomFuzzy spread his arms grandly, gesturing to the airborne swarm of child-dragons.

“Dragon school, Love! The wee ones wanted tae learn shapeshiftin’. Every one of ’em got the natural ability, but ya ain’t been teaching them to use is. Like any skill shape shifting needs to be practiced if it is to be mastered. Thought tae meself, ‘Why nae teach ’em tae be dragons?’ Fun thing to learn to be, and me being Mongolian, I thought, ‘Why not Chinese Dragons?’ Jolly good fun they having, eh?”

Quaraun’s lips parted, but no sound emerged. His mind reeled, struggling to reconcile BoomFuzzy’s logic with the sheer absurdity before him.

“Dragons,” Quaraun finally managed, his voice strained. “You taught them… to be… dragons?”

“Aye, dragons are majestic, powerful beasts,” BoomFuzzy said proudly. “Good for teachin’ discipline and grace. Look at ’em go!”

As if on cue, a particularly daring child swooped low, narrowly missing GhoulSpawn, who had come clattering out of his orange and yellow striped tent, grease-streaked hands clutching a strange mechanical contraption.

“What the — ?” GhoulSpawn yelped, ducking as the small dragon shot past. He stared wide-eyed at the scene, his golden fleece catching the weak sunlight. “Are those… Quaraun, are those your kids?”

Quaraun pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm himself.

“Yes. Apparently, Unicorn thought it wise to turn them into dragons.”

GhoulSpawn blinked.

“Dragons?”

“Dragons.”

BoomFuzzy clapped his hands together, beaming.

“Aye! Ye should try it, Goat — erm, Ghouly. It’s grand fun!”

GhoulSpawn’s face twisted in bewilderment.

“I’m a Sheep, not a dragon.”

“Nonsense!” BoomFuzzy declared. “Ya’ve got the heart of a dragon, Ghouly. I can tell.”

Quaraun’s glare could have frozen fire.

“Unicorn, turn them back. Now.”

BoomFuzzy’s grin faltered.

“But they were havin’ fun…”

“Now,” Quaraun repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a reluctant sigh, BoomFuzzy snapped his fingers, a ripple of magic washing over the camp. One by one, the children shimmered and morphed back into their half-Elf forms, giggling and chattering excitedly about their brief adventure as dragons.

BoomFuzzy turned to Quaraun, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

“Me wee pink JellyElf, ya’ve gotta admit, it was a bonnie lesson. look how well the wee scamps did.”

Quaraun’s eye twitched again.

“Next time, ask before you decide to teach them how to be mythical beasts.”

“Aye, aye,” BoomFuzzy agreed, though his mischievous grin suggested he had learned no such lesson and fully intended to do this again.

GhoulSpawn shook his head in disbelief.

“Only you, BoomFuzzy. Only you.”

As the children returned to their games, Quaraun sighed heavily, rubbing his temples.

“I am surrounded by lunatics.”

BoomFuzzy draped an arm around Quaraun’s shoulders, his voice warm and teasing.

“Aye, and ya love every one of us lunatics.”

Quaraun huffed but didn’t pull away.

“Unfortunately.”

The camp slowly settled back into a semblance of order, though the memory of flying dragons lingered in the frosty air, a testament to the unpredictable mischief of a Phooka king.

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

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. 🌸🦄🌸

• eBook Editions from this series can be found on: GumRoad

• Kindle, eBook, Print Paperback, & full colour illustrated Hardcover Editions from this series can be found on: Amazon

Meet The Characters

This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine. All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © [oldest articles written 1978],[website founded - 1996] –

This story is published in:

• Picking The Perfect Pickle

Includes the following stories: Picking the Perfect Pickle BoomFuzzy’s Hearth The Phooka's Dragon School Sea Glass & Silken Worries A Quiet Night on The River The Cursed Grimoire Ignoramus — An Utterly Ignorant Crowd of Humans The Littlest Keeper of the Lantern Excited For The New Baby Quaraun's Candle Business The Sacred Pink Secret There Are a Million Reasons to Be Grateful A Thousand Little Kicks The Sun was Shining, a Rare Thing in This Dystopian Ice Age Morning Sickness at The Shattered Stein A Night for Spoons Pink Silk and Soup The Book of Tortured Souls I Need To Feel Safe Cakes for a Kingdom

2025 edition cover art Original 2016 cover art

Books By Wendy Christine Allen
Currently Available on Amazon Kindle:

Index of the Quaraun novels, novellas, & short story collections on Amazon

And GumRoad:

Index of the Quaraun short stories on GumRoad

On Medium:

An Index of the more than TWO THOUSAND Quaraun Short Stories on Medium

(NOTE: a $5 or $15 per month paid subscription required to access stories on Medium)

On Vocal:

Index of the Quaraun short stories on Vocal

On Notd:

Index of the Quaraun Short Stories on Notd

On OnlyFans:

Index of the Quaraun Short Stories on OnlyFans

(NOTE: a $4.99 per month paid subscription required to access stories on OnlyFans)

Pink Necromancer Merch: On CafePress:

An Index of the Quaraun Merch on CafePress

Pink Necromancer Merch: On Zazzle:

Index of the Quaraun Merch on Zazzle

Not Quaraun:

This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.

All Rights Reserved.