This week we should be celebrating the 9th birthday of my son.
Instead we are celebrating the 9th anniversary since his murder.
If you have any information, please call FBI Portland Office @ 207-774-9322
ask for Agent Andy Drewer.
November 14, 2013 10PM @ Southern Maine Community College Art Studio Bug-Light Parking Lot: 3 strangers armed with golf clubs, attacked me from behind while I was loading bags into the backseat of my car. They were a blond woman 60s-ish whom the others called "Claire", a natural red-haired woman also 60sish who called herself "Kendra", and a bald man, football player-body-type-build in his 30sish. I was 8 months pregnant. They murdered my baby, ruptured 3 discs in my spine, shattered 3 vertebra, broke my pelvis, hips, and knees. I was paralyzed for 5 months and was 18 months relearning to walk. The nerve damage has left me with limited use of my hands, legs, bladder, and intestines.
On top of that, they have also taken to harassing the baby's father, a disfigured, homeless, WW2 veteran, whom they call "Etoile". They spread hateful rumours about him claiming he is a cryptid, a demon, or most often what they term "an amphibious alien". He lives in pine branch lean-toos he builds in Old Orchard Beach and Ocean Park, and they have been hunting the locations of them, tearing them down, and smashing up his belongings.
April 10, 2015 1PM at 146 Portland Ave Old Orchard Beach Maine a gang of estimated 74 people, some of them wearing ku klux klan robes, invaded my farm, used a Blow Brothers sewage truck to pump 500+gallons of sewage into my motorhome flooding it to over the kitchen counters deep, ripped out all the cabinets and built in furniture, while 14 men armed with guns, held my family down on the ice and snow, with guns to our heads, and used cinder block bricks and a metal pole with metal wire loops to beat and behead 10 of my 12 foster children (the youngest age 4, the oldest age 16). May 15, 2015 they returned and nailed their heads to my front door. The 3 people of the November 14, 2013 attack were among the group.
September 12, 2015, 9AM a dozen+ of these same people arrived again in my driveway at 146, this time chanting: "Too gay for the family friendly town of Old Orchard Beach. Kill of be killed. Remember Saco Shaw's, Transgender Murder Store, kill the transvestites before they kill us all", one white haired man in a dark green pick up truck was leading the herd, while waving a rifle over his head and shooting at me and my pink motorhome, he shot several holes through my neighbour's shed. The crowd was accusing me of being a male-to-female "transgender terrorist" (they thought I was Muslim because I wear Catholic veiling).
June 26, 2016, the same 2 women of the first 2 attacks, arrived at my Scarborough WalMart workplace, and in a near repeat of the first attack, again while I was leaned over the back seat of my car putting bags in, this time they attacked with a chopping cart, re-injuring my spine, hip, and pelvis that was not yet fully healed from the first attack. The blond "Claire" woman was screaming "That's EelKat, she tried to kill my husband!" while the redhead screamed "I'm Kendra Silvermander it's my turn the shine!" They sped away in a early2000s-vintage gold Volvo SUV station wagon. This attack left me permanently crippled, and bedridden from 2016 until May 2022.
November 21, 2021: They shot "Etiole" in Biddeford, while he was staying at the tent-shanty-village with about 50 other homeless people along the Saco River in Biddeford. They made the claim he was a "suicide demon" citing that he was driving locals to suicide by putting "evil eye curses" on them.
These people murdered my baby, attempted to murder the baby's father, drove a backhoe over our house, and left me crippled for the rest of my life in their attempt to murder me.
I do not know who these people are. I never saw them before these attacks, and I've not seen them outside of these attacks. The police and FBI believe I was not the intended target, and that they were likely after my mother because of posts she makes on FaceBook and got us mixed up. The Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford Police and the FBI are seeking information leading to their identity and arrest.
These people who show up to vandalize, while they scream about aliens and demons and Etiole, prove how retarded they are by their own words.
Why?
Because only a retarded person believes in aliens.
Because only a retarded person believes in ufos.
Because only a retarded person believes in demons.
Because only a retarded person believes in ghosts.
Because only a retarded person believes in haunted cars.
Because only a retarded person believes in demon possessed cars.
Because only a retarded person believes in alien abduction.
The inbred insect locals of Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford, Maine are too damned retarded to know how much of a fool they make themselves look when they run around calling my cars demon possessed, calling my husband an alien, and calling me an alien abductee.
More Info @ eelkat.com
Long detailed info on the over 200 attacks they have done between June 2001 and May 2022, including photos of them driving a backhoe over our house on August 8, 2013 and the details of the malicious "amphibious alien" rumour they have been spreading about a local homeless disabled veteran @
https://www.eelkat.com/AmphibiousAliens.html
Images:
July 4th 2013: my car in front of my house.
August 8, 2013: me getting home from work to find a backhoe sitting on top of my house.
The FBI already found the people with the backhoe incident, and learned that the backhoe driver was paid $600 and given a fake demolition paper, the paper stating one of my relatives (the one who paid him the $600) owned my land. The backhoe driver was unaware that the man he was dealing with was not the owner. I have lived at 146 Portland Ave since 1975 and have owned the land since 1983, it has never been owned by anyone else, even though we have now learned that both my mother and my father and 3 of my uncles had been actively going around Old Orchard Beach claiming they owned my land.
This happened 3 months before my son was murdered and the police and FBI believe my son was murdered BECAUSE of this picture being posted on FaceBook, and my mother making inciting/inflammatory posts about it on HER FaceBook, where she falsely accused me of being a witch. The FBI and OOB police believe the golf club wielding woman of November 14, 2013, is somehow connected to the backhoe driving over my house incident.
Since the murder, 3 other different backhoes have invading my land to dig up my yard, looking for the grave of my son. There is a family cemetery on my land, the stones dating mostly in the 1500s and 1600s, with a few from the past hundred years, the most recent being my son in 2013. 146 Portland Ave has belonged to my family since 1530, and I inherited it in 1983 from my grandmother Helen Ricker Allen. The most recent backhoe attack happened September 19, 2020, when they illegally cut down several trees in my yard, and started construction of a road through my yard between my pink 1975 Dodge Sportsman motorhome and BackElder Brooke, again the backhoe digging up and destroying large portions of my farm, in their search for my murdered son's grave. They dug up 16 of the graves in this attack.
We have had to remove the grave markers from the family grave in order to stop these vandals and their illegally trespassing construction equipment from destroying the graves.
The FBI believes these construction crews are being hired by the golf club wielding women, and believe she is trying to destroy the grave of my son, due to a fear of his golf club smashed skull being used as court evidence against her.
The most recent attacks by these people occurred November 21, 2021 and March 27, 2022 when they attacked my painted Volvo while it was parked at my dad's apartment in Biddeford, both times the vandals also cut all the wires to electricity, internet, and cable off the apartment building, effecting all 9 families living there.
The Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford Police Departments as well as the Portland FBI are seeking any information regarding any and all of these attacks on my family, my home, my land, or my cars.
If you have any information, please call FBI Portland Office @ 207-774-9322
ask for Agent Andy Drewer.
And no... to those who asked... the FBI is not looking for info on the 4-door white truck driver... the FBI has ALREADY ARRESTED the driver and owner of the 4-door white truck - 2 different people. The 4-door white truck was owned by Old Orchard Beach Town Hall clerk and Old Orchard Beach Police Department Dispather Kathy Smith, Relief Society President of the Saco Ward of the Agusta Stake Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Her son was the driver. They were both arrested and sentenced in 2017, and were also both excommunicated from the Mormon church as a result of their MANY hate crimes, which included but were not limited to the 4 door white truck attacks of 2013 to 2016.
Yes. A LOT of arrests have already been made. Do keep in mind the April 10, 2015 attack involved 74 people who were wearing Ku Klux Klan style white robes and pillow cases over their heads (which is how you can tell they were not real, actual Ku Klux Klan members as the REAL Ku Klux Klan wear miters on their heads, NOT pillow cases). There are in total MORE THEN 74 people actively being hunted down by twenty-one different Maine police departments, the Maine state police, the Florida State police, the Connecticut State police, and the FBI.
Since the backhoe attack of August 8, 2013, there have been a whooping 24 arrests JUST IN TWO CHURCHES:
The Saco Ward of the Augusta Stake of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints
and
The Sanford Ward of the Exeter Stake of the Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints.
There have been additional arrests at the following three churches which all have the same owner:
Grace Point in Biddeford
New Life (aka That Church in front of WalMart) in Biddeford
and
Curtis Lake Church in Sanford
Due to the alarmingly high rate of arrests and prison sentences made at these 5 churches, the police and FBI have focused the bulk of their investigation on all members of these five congregations, with the bulk of the investigation being on the two Mormon churches and all friends, family, and relatives of the members of those five churches, as it is believed that ALL people involved in the murder and 20+ years of harassment of my family, are all members of these 5 churches and or friends, family, and relatives of these five churches.
To date, 64 of the 74 suspected white hood wearers of April 10, 2015, have commit suidice, four of which when killing themselves, also killed 5 or more members of their families with them at the same time. One of them was Old Orchard Beach Police officer Bruce Savoy, who killed his entire family and then himself.
The police and FBI believe there is a suicide pact between the 74 attackers who arrived April 10, 2015 on my farm at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine... as 64 of them have now commit suicide, between 2015 and 2023.
Additionally, Agent Andy Drewer was NOT the original FBI agent heading the case. Laura was. FBI agent Laura was murdered February 6, 2021, during her attempt to arrest a murder suspect who was in Florida at the time he murdered her. So in addition to murdering my son, these people have now also murdered an FBI agent.
People around local, seem to forget that what happened April 10, 2015, was not some local hick beating up one person... this was a large PREMEDITATIED ORGANIZED EVENT which drew in a CROWD of WELL OVER ONE HUNDRED PEOPLE to activly participate in beating to deth and beheading ten children, the oldest being aged 16 and the youngest being aged just 4 years old.
What the people of Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford, Maine did was monstrous on levels of extreemes.
And then when the FBI agents tried to arrest these people, they ganged up again on February 6, 2021 and murdered, not one, but THREE FBI agents.
This is an organized terrorist group that is activly killing people here in Maine.... and this Claire woman that murdered my baby, the one the FBI believes is the ring leader who has been organizing these events.... and when I say events... I was NOT the first family attacked.
According to the FBI, the April 10, 2015 attack was the ELEVENTH such attack to happen on Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine since June 2001.
And since the April 10, 2015 attack on my family, this VERY LARGE hate group has repeated this even seven more times, to seven more families all on just one street, all on Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine... in total, this extremist fanatical Christian hate group has murdered more then 120 CHILDREN, just on our one street alone.
And in every case, the grand of white hood wearers was chanting the same mantra: "Too gay for the family friendly town of Old Orchard Beach, kill or be killed, remember Saco Shaws".
This terrorist group is murdering anyone on Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, whom they believe of being gay or transgender, whether or not they are gay or transgender.
These people are beyond evil. And this Claire woman is their leader, and she's the one the FBI wants.
If you have any information, please call FBI Portland Office @ 207-774-9322
ask for Agent Andy Drewer.
I have a weird text message… from the woman, a relative who looks enough like me to pass for my twin…from the women, who keeps pretending to be me, the one who lat Aprile pretended to be me and tried to sell my land, the one who in 2007 pretended to be me and hired a guy with a backhoe to dig holes in my land under the guise of putting in a septic system that I never ordered… the woman who in 2013 hired the same back hoe to drive over my house…
the woman the FBI suspects of being the one who hired the golf club woman also in 2013 to cripple me nd murder my baby… the same woman who was in my yard April 10, 2015 again pretending to be me when she locked her cats in my motorhome, the same woman who took out 27 credit cards in my name and ran them each up to $20k max, me, who’s never had a credit card in my life because I can’t count or do math so also can’t do money or numbers, …. The same woman who creates several online accounts pretending to be me on those… that woman… just sent me a text message, wants me to go with her to Bug Light lighthouse tomorrow…
Uhm… Bug Light lighthouse art studio is where I was November 14, 2013, when the Claire and Kendra women broke my spine with a gold club… so, why does this woman who has a 50 year history of impersonating me… the woman who convinced half of Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford that she owned my land, and has half the locals convinced that SHE and not ME, is me… she, suddenly wants me to met with her at the exact location where the blond Claire and red haired Kendra women - whom the FBI are still trying to find out the identity of - crippled me 9 years ago… and she won’t tell me why.
Well, at the moment I am recovering from, a broken pelvis, so, I can’t get out of bed, I haven’t been able to get out of bed since December, it’s not February. So, even if I would meet up with her, which I wouldn’t, right now, I can’t anyways.
She’s an Atwater… yes, the sister of Bruce Atwater… you remember him, he’s the one who was a member of Heaven’s Gate, and is so obsessed with aliens, that he and her, she helped him by pretending to be me, yet again… went around with the whole “amphibious aliens” rumors, making the claim I was abducted by aliens, calling my husband Ben Wildes, an aliens, dubbing him Etiole… he is by the way, the guy you see walking my dog with me in Biddeford… so, yeah you locals have met and talked to “Etiole” quite frequently, he attends the Saco Ward Church or Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and spent 48 years as the High Preist Quarum Leader of the Sandford Ward of the Church of Jesus Christ of atter Day saists, he left the Mormon church in May 2015, after our children were murdered… thhey were kidnapped April 10, 2015, the same day the impersonator bitch locked her ten cats in my motorhome and tried to pretend they were mine, called the police, the police, Will Watson specifically, took her cats, and did not arrest me, because, they weren’t my cats… then she spent the past 9 years running around saying they were my cats and because it happened the same day, she also tries to convince people that mychildren never existed and that her cats are my children… what the fuck? She’s a raving lunatic.
She’s the one who who runs around screaming “Mark and Dan this and Mark and Dan that” and I don’t know who the fuck her Mark or her Dan are, however, the psychotic gun totoing white haired man with a green pickup truck, regularly arrives in my driveway to yell at me a, claiming he’s Mark, while saying I’m deframing him, and I don’t know who the hell he is… but apparently, he’s the Mark she keeps talking about, and she’s fighting with him while claiming to be me, so now, he’s mad at me because of something she said, but I don’t even know who the hell he is or what he’s talking about.
This is the same woman who ran around cutting the internet and electric wires off my Biddeford apartment building in 2021, while screaming about Tod Murphy, and I still don’t know who Todd Muruphrey is yet… except she and her friends claim he was hit by an Amtrak train Nov 21, 2021 at 10PM, and you can check the police records, no one was hit by a train that day… However, as you all saw on my dog walking livestream on Nov 19, 2021 at 6:27pm, 4 women on bikes chased a homeless man on the the freight train tracks a quarter mile away from the Amtrak train tracks… I have it on video and I’m the one who called the police. Apparently, that’s the train accident she was talking about, be she had all the dates and times and names wrong, AND, for a full 8 months after that, I had to deal with her Atwater hoodlums and their friend vandalizing my car… they did more then $10k in damages, which yes, that why I don’t have my car again, in case you hadn’t noticed a 40 year old antique car is rather difficult to find parts for.
This woman… the one who does all of these things… oh yeah, by the way, you remember the woman who cut my 1964 Dodge 330 in half on May 9, 2010… yeah… same damn woman… and the same woman who took a fucking sledge hammer to my 1974 AMC Gremlin… that woman, the same one woman who has done ALL of these things… just sent me a text, wanting me to meet her at Bug Light lighthouse, where her Claire and Kendra buddies crippled me and murdered my baby 9 years ago.
No!
Fucking no!
Why can’t this bitch leave me and my family alone!
WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH HER!!!
Bug Light? Really? The location where my baby was murdered and I was left crippled for the rest of my life?
Really. She wants me to meet her at Bug Light Lighthouse.
Why?
I don't know.
She won't tell me. It's all a big secret.
Everything's always a big secret with the Atwaters. Because everything has to be a secret with criminals. If their crimes get found out, they end up in jail. That's how criminal thugs operate. In secret. So she she can't do anything without it being some big grand secret.
Why do you want me to meet you at BugLight, the lcation where my baby was murdered?
It's a secret, I can't tell you, you just have to come and find out.
No.
For one thing my car is not here, because oh, fucking Atwater scum bags vandalized it.
For another thing, I have a broken pelvis, I have been able to get out of bed since a week before Christmas 2022.
This is the 3rd time my pelvis has rebroken, since it was originally broken by the golf club weilding Claire bitch at... oh, BugLight lighthouse!
This is the same woman and her Mark simp from the day the police showed up at my Biddeford apartment to ask:
Police: "You're EelKat, right?"
Me: "No, that's what people call me though. EelKats a fictional character from my books."
Police: "This is Biddeford, right?"
Me: "Uhm? Yeah?"
Police: "And I'm standing here in Biddeford right now, talking to you, right?"
Me: "Uhm? Yeah?"
Officer starts talking in his phone to officers Will and Robby of Old Orchard Beach Police Department: "Yeah, she's right here with me, I'm talking to her right now. Got her Autism car here and everything."
Will and Robbie: "Yeah, that's what I been saying. This isn't her."
Me: "What's going on?"
Police: "Wolfboy is trespassing on your property again…"
Me: "Wolfboy? Who's Wolfboy?"
Police: "Mark. We call him Wolfboy. He calls 911 a few dozen times a day. Constant false complaints about every one. Boy who cries wolf you know."
Me: "Who's Mark? I don't know anyone named Mark."
Police: "Town busy body. Gossips and complains about every one. He's a real pain in the ass. Pardon my French. Can't leave anyone alone."
Me: "Why is he in my yard?"
Police: "Citizens arrest. Says he's arresting you."
Me: "Me?"
Police: "Yeah. He's got some bogus court documents that say you are not allowed on your own property because you're gay."
Me: "I'm gay? How am I gay?"
Police: "Yeah. Well Wolfboy thinks everybody is gay. He's waiting for the gaypocalypse, you know?"
Me: "What's the gaypocalypse?"
Police: "He thinks us guys are going to mass murder all the Christians. We have to deal with his fake 911 calls reporting us gaaaaaayz all the time."
Me: "I take it you're gay?"
Police: "Ahyap, several of us on the department. We don't like jerks like Wolfboy. He harasses people like you all the time."
Me: "Like me?"
Police: "Disabled. He targets disabled women. Thinks it makes him a man. You might not remember me. I was the one who came with the ambulance. You know? I knew you were laid up in bed here and couldn't be in Old Orchard right now, seeing how you can't walk, let alone drive."
Me: "And you said he's in my yard right now?"
Police: "Yep. He says you hired him to dig a septic tank."
Me: "I what?"
Police: "Yeah, we know. We checked. It wasn't you. We got this woman who's impersonating you. She's the one he's trying to arrest right now. She hired him to dig a hole in your front lawn. She says she's EelKat. That's why I'm here, to make sure you are here in Biddeford and not in Old Orchard Beach, right now. Buddy Will and Robbie are dealing with it."
Me: "Why is there anyone in my yard? There should never be anyone in my yard!"
Police: "Yep, we know. Wolfboy and crew do this sort of thing every day. You have no idea how often we have to deal with his crew of chronic 911 false report complainers. Whole family's crazy."
Me: "So, you're telling me there are two people in Old Orchard, right now, on my land, fighting over my land, and one of them is claiming to be me?"
Police: "Yeah, that's the deal."
Me: "He says I hired him to build a septic tank?"
Police: "Yep."
Me: "Do I look like I can afford to have a septic tank built? I have twenty million in medical bills. I can't even walk! What would I even do with a septic system, my bladder and intestines don't work, I wear adult diapers because I can't even use a toilet! Why would I of all people have a septic tank put in?"
Police: "Yeah. I know. I don't think Wolfboy and crew know how crippled you are. That's why we knew whoever he had in your yard, wasn't you. I also, don't think he's ever met you. We showed him a picture of you, and he swears that it wasn't you. We showed him a picture of *name removed* and he says that's you."
Me: "She's not me."
Police: "We know."
Me: "She's been after my land for decades. Was trying to get it aways from Grammy Helen, before I inherited it."
Police: "Oh, we know. Police reports from your Helen Ricker go all the way back to the 60s. They been after the Ricker farm since before you was born. Wolfboy's bitten off more than he can chew this time. He don't know who he's dealing with. He never should have gotten messed up with the Bacon Street Gang."
Me: "Bacon Street Gang?"
Police: "Ahyep. That's who Wolfboy has got tangled up with."
Me: "Who's the Bacon Street Gang?"
Police: "A gang. Think of them as kind of like the local Mafia, only worse. Most of them are doing time for murder. A few of them are out now. I don't think Wolfboy knows that's who he's dealing with any more than he knows who you are. He wouldn't be down there right now claiming she's you if he'd ever actually met you face to face."
That woman and that Mark, are the ones behind most of the rumors and misinformation spread about me.
The woman I know. She's a relative, with a long list of mental health problems.
Her Mark buddy, that the local police call Wolfboy, I don't know. I've never seen him. Never met him as far as I know. Obviously he's some friend of hers, probably one of her exs as she has a lot of them. She's got a bad reputation for slutting around with married men and breaking up families.
But all these wild alien abduction, transgender, ufo, nutcase rumors that get spread about me, whenever I ask "Who told you that lie?" They always say it came from her, my Uncle Bruce, or some guy named Mark.
And clearly this Mark guy is talking about her, but he uses MY name when he does it, because he's convinced she is Me. It's incredibly obvious this Mark guy has never met me and has no clue he's being scammed by her. But it is incredibly annoying because, I'm the one who is crippled for the rest of my life because some blonde bitch named Claire beat me up with a golf club at Southern Maine Community College Bug Light Art Studio on November 14, 2013, while screaming "Kill or be killed, gotta kill the transvestite freaks before they kill us all!" I was 8 months pregnant. That mystery Claire bitch not only left me crippled, she also murdered my baby. Why? Because this mystery Mark guy runs around calling me transgender and gay even though I'm not trans or gay. And he's only doing that because this nut job Atwater woman who pretends to be me, is after my land, so she runs around doing crazy ass shit while pretending to be me, in order to start the crazy ass rumors in the first place!
This Claire woman is the one the FBI is looking for information on. Because no one knows who the hell she is. She's just some random nut job who clawed out of the woodwork and showed up at college one day to attack me and kill me baby, while screaming utter insanity. The guy with her called her Claire, beyond that we've no clue who she is.
This Claire woman is the one wanted for murder, agitated assault, and owes me $20million in medical bills. If she's ever identified, she's also got life in prison for murder to look forward to.
No, I can not identify her: I am blind.
Did you forget I am blind? I've been blind my whole life.
I am legally blind. I can not see faces, not even if you are close to me. I can not make out the colour of skin because there is so little variation in colour from light to dark. I can only identify the attackers by their hair colour, because I am blind and can no see their faces. That is why I do not know who these people are. I'm blind. I've been blind since I was 8 years old. I can only identify people by their scent and the sound of their voice. Yes, the golf club woman attacked a blind pregnant women, and the FBI needs help to identify her because, I'm blind, I can only id her by the sound of her voice, and I've only encountered her twice...
November 14, 2013 when she crippled me with a golf club and murdered my babyat SMCC, and June 26, 2016 when she attacked me with a shopping cart at Scarboror WalMart, she drove away in a gold volvo station wagon. The first time 2 people were with her and they called her Claire. The 2nd time only the red haired woman was with her, and she was screaming "My name is Kendra Silvermander It's my turn to shine!"
I do not know what the faces of wither the blond Claire who drove a gold volvo wagon or the redhair Kendra Silvermander are because I'm blind... I can see exactly 8 inches from my nose, I can't even see the ground to see my own feet. That's why the FBI is in need of witnesses to come forward and identify the 2 women who murdered my baby.
I'm blind, I don't know what they look like, I only know them by their voices.
If you have any information, about the Claire bitch who murdered my baby at BugLight Lighthouse on November 14, 2013, please call FBI Portland Office @ 207-774-9322
ask for Agent Andy Drewer.
I am severely disabled. I have been since November 14, 2013. I was paralyzed for 5 months. It took me 18 months to get out of a wheelchair. It's been 9 years and I'm still using a cane and walker to get around, but, after standing and walking for an hour or two, I collapse and have to be carried back to bed, where I end up staying for days, sometimes weeks, before I can attempt to stand up again.
And since that happened, there have been a lot of local rumores.
Plastic surgery reconstructed my face, but I noticeably don't look the same as I did for 40 years prior to becoming disabled. And this has led to a lot of local rumors... people call me a demon, or demon possessed, or an alien, or say I was abducted by aliens and that's why I look different.
Welcome to Maine, where the average person believes aliens and demons are real, and think nothing of driving a backhoe over my house, because im just a demon who deserves it, they vandalized my car repeatedly every few months I who am already disabled and severe difficultly getting out and to the store, have even less ability to get out when my car is in the shop for repairs months to a time, multiple times a year.
This is the reality of how we horrifyingly disabled people are treated, at least here in Maine.
Being attacked in the college parking lot by 3 strangers with golf clubs is what dramatically changed my appearance. Doctors, plastic surgeons, rebuilt my face as best as they could, and they did a very good job all things considering. My vertebrae are broken in such a way that my spinal column is severed and so I have almost no use of my left hand and arm, I have no control over my bladder or intestines so have to wear adult diapers. And Doctors can't operate on this injury because there is an 80% chance of me becoming paralyzed from the neck down if they even attempt surgery.
I have been sent to the top neurological surgeons in America and they've all said, they wouldn't dare take the risk of doing the surgery.
I have been 9 years, actively studying everything I can find on the subject of spine surgery. I follow every medical journal, hanging on every update, watching and waiting for the day, when surgery advances to the point that it is an option for me.
Interestingly, as a side effect of this, I started reading and watching Horror genre, something I did not previously do. Things like The Island of Dr Moreau have become my favorite books and movies. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it is because I can identify with the characters who have those radical body changing surgeries in those books and movies.
In short, I have become fully obsessed with studying all aspects of radical surgery, both real and fictional, in some sort of hope of finding, something, anything, that will help me walk again.
THIS is what this Claire woman with the gold Volvo station wagon did November 14, 2013... and made worse when she attacked the second time June 26, 2016.
The Claire woman with the gold Volvo station wagon, not only murdered my son, she completely destroyed my life, my health, my ability to function on even the most basic levels.
I can't walk, my baby is dead, there's a giant fucking hole in my yard that looks like a Moon crater, and I'm homeless because a fucking backhoe drove over my house.
And because I was paralyzed for 5 months, and spent 18 months relearning to walk, and still can't walk on my own now 9 years later, I also have $20million in medical bills, which is why I can't afford to rebuild my house.
In the meantime, some jackass with a green dump truck that has a black and silver striped nose, dumped hundreds of loads of garbage, actual literal black bags of garbage that he stole from the town dump, and dumped them in my yard. Do you know how much garbage he dumped in my yard? It was one hundred and seventy three feet long, thirty feet wide, and twelve feet tall… yes, the pile of garbage was 173 feet long, 30 feet wide, and 12 feet tall… and it cost me $12k March 2015 to have a garbage company come in and haul it away.
What the fuck?
And you know what the police said? They think this woman and her Mark buddy are having a fuel, but because she's convinced him that she is me, and he's never seen me, so he doesn't know she's not me, that the police think, he's the one doing all the harassing of me and my family, but he thinks he's harassing her and her family and doesn't know he's harassing the wrong people, because she gave him my address as her address.
So, I'm being harassed by some guy who is a total stranger to me, because he's mad at some psycho bitch who was pretending to be me.
And because of all this, I'm crippled for the rest of my life, my baby is dead, a backhoe drove over my house, and then on April 10, 2015 my 10 foster children were kidnapped, and then on May 15, 2025 there heads were nailed to the door of my big pink motor home. So, now not only am I homeless and crippled, but my family has been murdered as well, all because some bitch impersonated me spreading weird ass alien abduction lies, weird as transgender lies, and weird ass gay lies about me, because for some reason she thought that would get her my land, and in doing so, she passed off some guy who went psycho serial killer on me, while thinking he was attacking her.
Yeah.
And so, two criminal ass thugs are funding with each other, and now I'm homeless and crippled and my family is dead, and the FBI is here now, and according to them, me and my family was never the target, me and my family got attacked by mistake because at the start of all this, some ufo nut, thought it would be funny to impersonate me and try to make it look like I believed in aliens, because this whole thing started because of some phoney ass alien abduction ufo haunted car hoax started by my uncle Bruce back in the 1990s, because he was mad, that Stephen King filmed The Thinner movie on my land, and my uncle Bruce was mad that he didn't get to be in The Thinner movie.
All of this started because Stephen King filmed a movie in my yard almost 50 years ago, and an uncle of mine was jealous, so he had his sister, pretend to be me to start some crazy ass alien abduction rumors, her running around claiming she was me while claiming to be abducted by aliens, while dubbing my husband as "etiole" and "amphibious alien", because in their minds that was some kind of revenge porn for not being in a Stephen King movie, and they've spent almost 40 years running with their alien abduction hoax, adding more and more to it all time time, including to start calling me a transvestite... and then, these people who used to live in Utah, my uncle and his sister, come back here to Maine to run around spreading the alien and trans rumour on a local level around Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford, because, I have no ide why... they are just pure evil, and evil things like this are what hate filled evil people do.
Jealousy and hate. That's what fuels her. Pure raw jealousy and hate.
And my family is dead, my house is gone, and I'm crippled, all because some uncle of mine, whom I never even knew before any of this started, wanted to be in a Stephen King movie, and wasn't in a Stephen King movie and for some reason that was justification for all of this.
I don't get it.
The Atwaters are just hate filled, evil scum. You can't do something like this and be anything OTHER than pure evil scum.
Buglight lighthouse is where my baby was murdered on November 14, 2013 by the Kendra Silvermander and Claire bitch duo... why would I want to go there?
What the hell is she even thinking?
Every one who knows me knows my baby was murdered at Buglight lighthouse the beach behind the art studio at Southern Maine Community College in South Portland, on November 14, 2013, the same event that left me crippled for the rest of my life.
So why in the hell would anyone dare ask me to meet them at fucking Buglight lighthouse?
How much more evil can you be?
Update: February 19, 2023
??? Weird. ...
So, I just got a flurry of weird text messages… about FabeBook posts? I’ve not seen said posts, so I don’t know exactly what they says, but I’ll respond to the text messages about said posts:
ONE... who is in my yard? It's certainly not me, I broke my pelvis a week before Christmas and haven't been out of bed in 3 months. There should never be anyone in either of my yards, not the one in Biddeford nor the one in Old Orchard...
TWO... when did my cousin Danny die? First I heard of it. Last I knew he was living on a farm up by Heath road in Saco. I haven't seen him since a few years before the grease fryer bomb blew up my house, that happened on October 16, 2006... so it was sometime before 2004 last time I saw Danny. Didn't know he died. That's sad. I liked Danny. He was one of the few good Atwaters...
Three, uhm, what garden? My land in Old Orchard is bare ledge. Not even any soil to plant anything in. It's been that way for nine years. When the backhoe drove over my house August 8, 2013, it also came in with a green dumptruck and strip mined my land, they stole all of my roses, apple trees, grapes, blueberries, and flowers, and took all the top soil down to over six feet deep, strip mined my farm down to bare shale and granite. It would cost over $three-million dollars to buy new top soil to replace what the vandals stole, and I don't have that kind of money, so I've not had a garden since, no vegetables, no flowers, nothing, can't plant anything on bare ledge....
so, yeah, weird, this latest rumor, which states I stole something from Danny's grave to put in my garden. Seeing how, I didn't even know Danny died and I also don't have a garden.
........... Update February 22, 2023
So, because I didn't know Danny died, people have started sending me these long lists of Atwaters whom have died since 2015... apparently there are well over 30 - thirty - dead Atwaters, none of whom I knew had died, and many of whom, I never even heard their names before. I'm told they are largely from the Utah division of the Scottish Traveller clans. But I did notice, half of the original twelve are dead? Is that true? No one told me any of this. I had no clue. It says here that uncle Peter and his wife, Bobby's wife Cathy, and even my uncle Brucie are all dead? When did all this happen and why did no one tell me? There a bunch of cousins, second cousins, and thrid cousins on the list too, but I've never heard any of their names before I have no clue who any of them are.
There also seems to be some weird thing where they are saying no one ever told them my son was murdered November 14, 2013... my mother, my father, my step father Wade, aunt Barbara, uncle Dickie, uncle Brucie, cousin Danny, and Danny's wife Amanda all knew about this. Barbara showed up at the hospital and tried to get me to join her in some stupid ass medical scam she said she was running via her EMT job, she wanted me to be some poster child for some medical scam website she was running, she said she could get more money if she had a real cripple on her website. Dickie and Brucie were both at my Water St apartment the night it happened and they were mad that the police showed up to question my family and found them there with my daddy and some private detective, I don't know who the private detective was... according to the FBI agent in charge of the murder investigation, my dad hired the private detective to trail my mother and her then husband Wade, and Dickie and Brucie were helping my father with that.
Barbara, Dickie, and Brucie were all at the hospital November 2013, when I was paralyzed.
Barbara knew I was in a wheelchair, because in 2014, at Saco Shaw's, she stopped to talk to me, while I was shopping and in the wheelchair.
I'm also being told most of them are claiming they didn't know a backhoe drove over my house. Uncle Joey in Australia, not only knew about the backhoe driving over my house, by the FBI has copies of the $600 wire he sent to the backhoe driver. My father is the one who forged the demolition permits, with some guy named Dan who I never heard of before.
Also, you remember Barbara's ex Paul Martal... do you know what he's in prison for? FBI arrested him in 2016, for not one, but many bombs that he built, including the bomb that blew up my house October 16, 2006 and wait for it... the Boston Marathon bomb in 2013, he built it and sold it to ISIS.
The Atwaters claiming they know nothing of the 2006 bomb, is a lie, considering the FBI arrested some of them for it.
The Atwaters claiming they knew nothing of the backhoe driving over my house August 8, 2013, that replaced the bombed house, is a lie, because because Joey is the one how organized and funded it and he's going to straight to prison if he ever sets foot in America again, the FBI is ready to arrest him the moment he sets foot outside of Austraila. They have uncovered all the evidence they need to do so.
Barbara posted the message on my FaceBook wall: "The next head nailed to a door will be yours", she posted that message May 14, 2015... the DAY BEFORE my foster children's heads were nailed to the door of my motorhome. I didn't know she posted that message... the FBI agent, had screenshots of it that he had made, he showed them to me in June 2016... I didn't know she had posted that on my wall.
Yvonne and Shem, posted on my FaceBook wall more then two hundred pictures of themselves holding various guns, and on every post they wrote the words: "This is the gun I'm going to kill you with." Again, I did not see the posts, because I was in the hospital, paralized, I was paralyzed 5 months, I was 18 month relearning to walk... I've been bedridden for the last 9 - NINE - years... I found out about the death threats Shem and Yvonne were posting when an FBI agent, the one, who is now dead. Larua, she was murdered February 6, 2021... arrived, at my 6x8 tarp that I was living under in my yard... she arrived, with a huge stack of printed out screenshots of death threats posted by them, along with 27 FaceBook accounts all owned by Brucie, most of them using variations of Doris's name... all 29 of those accounts spent the entire of 2014, 2015, and 2016 DAILY posting death threats on my FaceBook wall, and often mentioned the November 14, 2013 murder of my son, the August 8, 2013 backhoe, and the April 10, 2015 SWAT team... the SWAT team being something I never mentioned online... also... the police department is in search of a VERY UNIQUE murder weapon that was used in the May 15, 2015 beheadings, and the crackhead Camilla, the cocaine dealer for the Bacon Street Gang, who is an Atwater, has been since October 2021 showing up on my Biddeford front porch to gibber about... that murder weapon... the police and the FBI never released to the public what the murder weapon was, because it is a VERY UNIQUE one of a kind hand made item. And yet, MANY of the Atwaters... 23 of them, showed up in my Biddeford driveway January 8, 2021 to gibber about that murder weapon while also chanting "God-King-Trump".
January 15, 2021, a few days later, the fbi shows up with half the fucking plice department, here at my biddeford apartment, said they followed lucy and barbara up here from some attack on the president in washington dc and wanted to know if U'd seen them? what the fuck? I have no clue. I've not see Lucy since 1994 and I've not seen Barbara since 2013 the day she tried to get me to join her weird medical scam plot. But according to the FBI... they were watching my Twith livestream tht day, so they saw the "God King Trump" chanters, as did all of my viewers, I was live and my webcam faces the driveway window so, they were chanting "God-king-trump" on my Twitch livestream... according to the FBI, those 23 people were Lucy's crew and the had stolen stuff from the White House, and were carrying the stolen white house stuff while chanting in my driveway... the FBI wanted to know if I recgonined any of them, and I didn't, the FBI had tons of pictures of them, and I don't know who any of them were... but according to the FBI, they are the adult children of several of my cousins, via Lucy and Barbara's kids. What the hell?
I am so sick and tired of the FBI showing up here and questioning me every few weeks, because of some fucking ass shit Barbaras family is doing, when I don't even know Barbara's family! I haven't babysat for her kids since I was 12 years old and that was fifty fucking years ago!
Tell me, how do so many Atwaters have inside information about the murder weapon that was used to behead my ten foster children on May 15, 2015... when those police records are sealed, were classified by the FBI, and only me, 6 FBI agents, 3 police officers, and of course the murderer, know what the murder weapon was?
I don't know who contacted the FBI... it wasn't me. I assume is was police officer Will Watson as he was the original head of the police investigation. And yet, I have many THOUSANDS of hate emails, hate snail mail letters - hand written and signed by Atwaters, accusing me of sending the FBI to "snoop in on them" as they put it. Good god! The FBI is over here interigating me 2 or 3 times a fucking month! The Atwaters act like they are the only ones who have to deal with FBI agents hanging around all the time! At least with me the FBI are here trying to help solve a crime, not interigating me of being a criminal... my fucking son was murdered! Atwaters bitching about the FBI questioning them, well maybe they shouldn't be posting death threats all over my FaceBook wall constantly none stop, the same week my sn was murdered, but that's what they are being questioned about.
I never sent the FBI anywhere... I don't control the FBI, and anyone who thinks that is got some serious mental retardation issues.
I didn't even know the FBI was actively going from Atwater to Atwater questioning them, and I wouldn't have known, had the Atwaters not been writing long hate letters and mailing them to me.
My son was murdered in 2013... it was 3 years later, when the FBI showed up to talk to me, for the first time, and yet they informed me, they'd been on the case for three years at that point and had some pretty daming evidence, about one Atwater: Paul Martal, whom I've never met, didn't even know he existed... he got 14 years in prison for the 2006 bomb that blew up my house. But what the FBI wanted to know was: Why me? It appeared he didn't know me any more than I knew him. According to the FBI, Paul Martal was in heavy contact with 2 people, and the FBI believes it's one of them, who hired the golf club woman to murder my baby November 14, 2013...
...and the problem is, I've not mentioned it to the family, The Atwaters, so they don't know, not even my parents know, but on September 12, 2021, there was another attack. I've not released any details, nor have the police or the FBI, One of the biggest ones yet. The FBI pointed out one thing... the attacks stopped when one of te two primary suspects died. They said they had reason to believe the one, of the two suspects, whom they believe murdered my son, died... so how did the the September 12, 2021 attack happen?
When that attack happened the FBI asked me to repaint paint my car: put the info from 2 different events, with the dates reversed, to see WHO would notice it was wrong. Someone DID notice it was wrong: Crackhead Camilla, cocaine dealer of the Bacon Street Gang, she showed up on my Biddeford porch less then ten hours after I painted my car. She noticed the incorrect date for the incorrect event... and she has said WHO told her... and it was one of the three people who arrived at the hospital November 2013... except, 2 of those 3 people are now dead, and the one she's naming, is the one still alive.
Who is it, who runs around telling people I believe in aliens? That same person. I don't believe in aliens. I'm the one who proved aliens and alien abductions to be a hoax, did that in 2007, posted my findings proving aliens a hoax here: https://www.eelkat.com/AmphibiousAliens.html
Who is it, who runs around claiming I say things about Utah Atwaters, people who I've never heard of, people I've never met? That same person.
Whose husband is right now sitting in prison for building the bomb that blew up my house? That same person.
Camilla was the bridesmaid of who? That same person.
Who KNEW I was paralyzed for 5 months, 18 months in wheelchair, and 9 years serverly crippled, bedridden... but neglected to tell anyone in the family? That same person.
Who is it, who is right now spreading rumors and lies about me, my brothers, and my mother, all over FaceBook? That same person.
Do you know what gaslighting means? Look at what she's doing. It's called gaslighting. It means she is trying to cast doubt on the victims, in order to make the victims look guilty, as a way to try to hide, her own crimes.
Ask yourself why you didn't know my son was murdered?
Ask yourself why you didn't know I was attacked by a blond woman with a golf club, left for dead, almost died, and have been crippled on paraplegic levels ever since?
Ask yourself why you didn't know I was paralyzed for 5 month?
Ask yourself why you didn't know I was in a wheelchair for 18 months?
Ask yourself why you didn't know my foster children, where not only murdered, but their heads were nailed to my door?
Ask yourself why you didn't know when Barbara, Brucie, and Dickie were all at the hospital, and knew what had happened. Why didn't they tell any of you? Why did they pretend not to know? Why did they hide for the rest of the family, what had happened to me?
Here's an important thing to ask: Why did none of you know the FBI was here investigating a very brutal murder that coincided with a LOT of harassment, vandalism, and hate crimes that were on levels of alarming extremes?
It's called impeding and FBI investigation.
Someone, in the Atwater family, has been very actively lying to all of you about what happened to me and my family... why? What is their motive? If they have nothing to hide, then why arethey bending over backwards to try to keep every one of you from finding out what happened to me, my son, my house, my yard, and my foster children?
Why?
Only the person doing these crimes, who any motive to try to cover them up.
Only the person who murdered my son, would have any motive to go out of their way to do everything in their power to try to make you forget he ever existed.
Only the person who did these things has any motive, to try to cover it up.
Only the person behind my son's murder has a motive to try to convince you I believe in aliens, when it's damn well documented that I don't believe in aliens.
Think about that, next time an Atwater starts spreading rumors about me, my mother, my father, my brothers, my husband, my dead children, or my dead son.
Also... who is it who told you that I knew about all these deaths in the family? Was it one of the three people who was at the hospital and knew what happened to me, but never told you all?
Also, yes... I have noticed that Dickies supposed death date is a full 3 months before he was at the hospital, before he was visiting my dad with Brucie and and having a meeting with the private investigator about Wade Witen... that's puzzling... but then again Brucie had faked his own death 4 times since the 1980s, each time to invade IRS fraud, so the Atwaters do have a history of faking their deaths. I know this because the FBI has all that info too and when interviewing me, they wanted to know if I was aware of the faked death, by 3 of the original 12 Atwaters... yep, three of the brothers have faked their deaths multiple times. So... when you people tell me Dickie and Brucie are dead, yeah, I kind of don't believe you.
Also, Barbara is the one going around telling everyone that Danny is dead and his grave is being vandalised... several people have told me that Danny is dead, his grave was being vandalised, and I a bedridden crippled, was being blamed for the vandalism, and I asked each of these people who told them this, and every one of them stated they recieved either a rtext, post, comment, email, or phone call from Barbara, some said she told them face to face in person... near as I can tell NO ONE other then Barbara os saying Danny died, no one other then Barbara is saying his grave is vandaised, and no one other then Barbara is saying I did it... also newsflash... my camera runs 24/7/365 ever since the day my foster children's heads was nailed to my door, so I can prove where I was and what I was doing every minute from May 16, 2015 to right now. The camera runs 24/7 in hopes of catching the murderer returning to attack again. Smile... if you've ever said anything to me online or offline, I have video footage of you doing it.
In case you've forgotten who Barbara is, besides being Bruce's sister, she's the 2 year old girl who was run over by this car. https://www.eelkat.com/images/1964dodge330_theGoldeneagleWorldsMostHauntedCar.jpg My 1964 Dodge 330 the one that was cut in half on May 9, 2010 by raving lunatics of the Saco Ward church calling it demon possessed. She's the one who started the rumor that the car was haunted, possesed by a demon and tried to kill her. The car used to belong to Dr Larochell, who paid Barbara $20k to stop her from spreading rumors about his car. Her rumours about his car got so bad that locals started attacking him, so in 1975 he sold the car and I bought it specifically to prove that it was niether haunted demon possessed and Barbara was just delusional and trying to get attention.
After I proved the car not haunted, I let a local elderly homeless man sleep in the car at night, while the car was parked behind my barn, 175 feet from the road in the forest where it could not be seen from the road, so no one knew the WW@ veteran was sleeping in my car... until that is, in 1978, Barbara tresspassed on my land, found him there, declared him first a demon, then in the 1990s started calling him "The Amphibious Alien"... Barbara is the only Atwater who ever learned French and guess what, she is also the one who coined the name "Etiole" and started calling the homeless WW2 vet "Etiole" and she is the one who has been vocal in instigating EVERY SINGLE attack on Etiole and my 1964 Dodge 330.
Also, do take a look at Barbara... we look alike, she and me... we can almost pass for twins. And what keeps happening around locally? People keep saying they are encountering me doing and saing things in places I've never been to, to people I've never heard of!
Also, every time I go outside, people - ttal strangers - keep coming up to me and asking me why I am emailing them stuff about aliens, and newsflash: I don't even use email! What the hell? I couldn't eail some one even if I wanted to!
In November, this guy comes up to me, he's about 90 years old and carrying this massive stack of sheets of paper - like 300 sheets, it's an entire reem of paper, and he starts waving it around and says it's print out of all the emails I sent him just in the past week, he says he gets more then three thousand emails from me on a daily basis and it's all crazy stuff about aliens... I looked at the papers and, the emails are coming from tons of emails with the word "eelkat" in the name, but they aren't mine. I'm not sending these things out to people and I don't know who is... but I do know who has a history of impersonating me with emails: Barbara!
In 1996, she started an email war with the Atwaters, with two emails, one that she said was heres, and one that she said was mine.
At that point... I had never had contact with an American, or TV, or electricity... I had never heard of computers or internet or email... he email war, was her, impersonating me, and sending hundred of hate filled emails to my aunts, uncles, and counsins... I found out about it a year later when Bishop Paul Morgan of the Cape Elezabeth Ward (no, not the Portland Ward, but yes the same building) called me in to his office one day, to ask why I was sending so many hundreds of emails about aliens and alien abductions to him and 750 other members of the church. No that's not a typo... seven hundred and fifty members of the church...
I had 3 questions for Paul Morgan:
1: What's email?
2: What are aliens?
3: What's alien abduction?
I had never heard of those 3 things before.
Paul Morgan had print outs of those emails, and it took me over a month to read those more then six thousand sheets of paper, but I read every one of them.
Paul Peterson, administrative director of Pine Land Center Insane Asylum... he showed up at church a few weeks later, yeah... turns out, several Atwaters used to be, how shall we call it... straight jacketed in padded cells because they were insane... and Pine Land Center, government run mental health institute, lost funding, shut down, in... oh look... 1996... and literally just let formally straight jacket nut cases, walk free out the front door. It's not hard to find out who the inmates of Pine Land Center were... the micro films are available in New Gloughster. So, yeah, that evidance exists and says a lot.
ALL of the rumors about me, my mother, my father, my brothers, my husband, my cars... all the Demon rumors, all the alien rumors, ALL of it... every single rumor, all the way back to the 1960s... all of them, were started by one person, Barbara, because, she was the 2 year old girl who was hit by that car, and she's pissed that I bought it, and she's even more pissed that Stephen King, my neighbour at the time, made a movie about it... did you know my real name is Christine and that's why the car is named Christine in the movie, even though the real car was named The Goldeneagle.
After Christine, Stephen King returned to film Thinner on my farm, and THAT is why, Barbara, has had endless amounts of jealosue rage and hatred for my farm, my land, my house... did you know I've rebuilt my house 5 times now... the backhoe has driven over THREE houses on my land, we keep rebuilding and it keeps coming back... but before the backhoe there was the bomb... and who did the FBI arrest for building that bomb again? Barbara's husband Paul Martal. That's what he went to prison for. He built the bomb that blew up my house, the FBI found him with the bomb parts in his house and car.
That's why, I always ask, when these weird rumors about demons and aliens show up... who told you? And EVERY SINGLE PERSON, EVERY SINGL TIME... they always say: "Barbara told me", "Baraba said it" , "Barbara called me" , "Barbara emailed me"... and so, I'm not surprised to find out that the rumors flying around this week, are once again, started by the same person who always starts them: the pissed off now adult, 2 year old girl, who 60 years ago was run over by the world's most haunted car, and is the one who both declared it haunted and dubbed the homeless man living in it as "Etiole"
Know your sources people. Do your background checks. Find out if the one spreading the rumors about me, might actually have a motive. Barbara REALLY hates that car. And at the core, her hatred of that car, her rage that Stephen King made it famous, is the cause of everything.
But guess what: Barbara and Brucie and their fucking endless jealose rage, is why I'm crippled, why my son is dead, why I've had to rebuild my house on my land five fucking times now... I'm not bothering any of them, I never have , and I don't know why they are bothering me! I want those bastards to fucking leave me, my family, my cars, my land, and anything else of mine alone.
Uhm… okay… so, a member of the Sanford ward church was just in a rage yelling at me about the drug raid across the street last year at the missionary apartment and this being the 18th anniversary of the dead girl in the Scarborough marsh… and, I'm not sure why they are yelling at me about it…but they were mad saying: "Why is the FBI here talking to you about the dead girl in Scarborough. You aren't family."
Uhm… no, but I am the one who found the body and called 911 to report it. And I've had to deal with police and FBi questions in regards to her death for the past few decades every single time they get a lead they show up and ask me:"So tell us once again what you saw." And I tell them yet again about the girl with no head, the thirty dogs with no heads, and that, I never saw her or the dogs before.
I was driving to work and they were all laid out ritual like in the road, not a one of them had any heads. Not the girl, not any of the dogs.
First experience with headless bodies… but far from the last. And police and fBi believe the killer was there and saw me call 911 and that's why my 75 pet roosters had their heads cut off and their bodies tied in rope nooses and hung in my Orchard fruit trees and rose bushes shortly after.
I can show you where ever body was the girl and the dogs. The first one was at the Ross rd Portland rd intersection at the light by where the medical building is now. The next one was at the Eastern trail Bridge just before the rv center. There was another at the cascade rd intersection by the flea market... they continued like that all the way to the Scarbourogh marsh. All black dogs, mostly Rottweilers and black labs, more than 30 of them, leading in a path to the dead girl. None of them had heads. Not the girl or the dogs.
It was after dark, I was on my way to Macy's.
The fbi says they think it was the same person who beheaded my cousin Murphy in 2013, beheaded 75 of my roosters and hung them from nooses in trees in 2007, murdered my son in 2013, and beheaded my mother's cats in 2015... he says there were 11 other beheading like this between 2001 and 2015 all of them invloving a huge amount of pets, mostly dogs and cats, but also birds and horses… in title more then 500 pets just on Portland Ave in old Orchard beach alone, the first one was a German Shepherd in June 2001 whose head was hung on the bucket of his owners bulldozer, and there have been 7 more since 2015 to 2021, all on Portland Ave, Ross rd, and Cascade Rd.
The dead girl in Scarborough had no head, neither did any of the dogs. I'm the one who called the police.
I was there when they found Timmy Murphy on cascade and Ross rd intersection. He had no head either.
My cousin Murphy, the newspaper said he was hit by a truck. But that's not what happened. I was there. Police made me wait 3 hours while they looked for his head. I got questioned all over for that. It happened June 2013. Backhoe drove over my house August 8, 2013, and golf club woman attacked November 14, 2013... fbi thinks the backhoe and golfclub attacks were both because I was there when Timmy's body was being wrapped up by police. The police found his head 2 weeks later down by my driveway on Portland Ave almost a half mile from where they found his body.
They believe the killer of my cousin Timmy was at the scene while the police were questioning me, and that's how the killer knew to target my house with the backhoe a month later… the issue with that is, one of my uncles, paid the backhoe driver, but that uncle lives in Australia and wired the money to the backhoe driver. The police have all the paperwork for this. And the police can't figure out, why it appears that my Atwater relatives are heavily invested in impending the investigation of what police are calling "the Ouellette case".
It appears the Atwaters are being egged on by someone involved in the murder of the headless Scarborough marsh girl, and that the Atwaters are being deliberately needled into a frenzy at me and my family in a bold attitude to through police off the killers trail.
The thing is, the Atwaters have gone into wild extremes bringing in weird alien abduction rumors that are just outlandish… but then… one of my uncles, when the FBI went to interview him… he had dozens of dead, headless black dogs, black cats, and black chickens laying in weird pentagram ritual formations, all over his yard, in his driveway, around his house, hanging on his fences… and… well… dead headless black animals were all around the Scarborough marsh that day of the dead girl… and so… it kind of looks a lot like one of my uncles either is the murderer or at least is the one supplying the murderer with dead black pets.
So, this lead the FBi to ask me more questions, because now it looks like the Atwaters lashing out at my family has a far bigger motive then, them just being crazy lunatic ufo nuts.
I've been a witness at 4 different beheadings.. and was the one who called police each time.
The raid at the Saco Ward missionary apartment across the street…I never said the raid across the street was a drug raid... the state drug force wasn't there. Ive seen drug raids before. My Atwater relatives are notorious for drugs, ive been in the house when two drug raids happened, one in 1982 and one in 2016 and both times the state police drug team was the one who did the raid.
State police drug team wasn't there at the raid on the missionary apartment across the street last year, it the US Marshalls and FBI there. They had 8 people handcuffed face down in the road in front of our apartment. And they said it was about the Ouellette case, specifically the headless girl in Scarborough marsh. I know this, because thry asked me if i recognized any of these 8 people. One I did, she's been my dads nurse since 2009. Fbi was here asking me about that raid, because he wanted to know if the dead cats and birds in the road here in front of our Biddeford apartment were lined up same way as the dead dogs were back in Scarborough years ago with the dead girl.
Me and others locally have been finding dead pets lined up on Main Street, western Ave, Cutts St, West Cutts st, James St, and Bradbury st every since summer 2021, I sent videos footage of all the dead pets to fbi, because it DID look like same ritual pattern used in my yard with roosters in 2007 and my mother's cats in 2015 and those dogs with the dead girl at the Scarborough marsh.
That's why I stopped walking around our apartment at night... dead cats and birds are being set up around my apartment and also my mothers apartment... looks like whoever killed cats and roosters in Old Orchard, wanted me to know they knew where I lived.
The officers think the person leaving the dead pets all around our apartment is whoever killed the headless girl at the marsh... they think that's why the attack on my roosters happened in 2007, the backhoe in 2013, the golf club women who killed my son and crippled me in 2013, because I'm the one who called the police about the headless dogs in Scarborough with the dead girl.
Weird, this Sanford Ward Mormon, who was just here at my apartment, made the comment: "But the dead girl in Scarborough wasn't beheaded."
I don't know if there's a different girl too or not. I only know about the headless girl, the one I called 911 about all those decades ago. I never looked up the news reports so I don't know if they ever mentioned the thirty dead dogs or her and the dogs having no head. I don't know what the news said about it. I don't even know her name. I just know whenever the police or FBI ask me to retell how the dogs were laid out, they always call it "The Ouellette Case". Beyond that I know nothing about it.
My focus has always been on the attacks on me and my family. I don't know any of the other families. I just know the officers said the April 10, 2015 attack on my farm was the 11th such attack on Portland Ave since June 2001 and that they now tell me there have been seven more such attacks on Portland Ave since 2015. They said a lot of details have not been released to the public, but that there are a few common things recurring in every attack which indicates it's just one person (group of persons) doing it. They say they keep going back to all 18 of our families reasking us for details we can remember because they are trying to match up the similarities of each case.
I know what details were left out of reports about the attacks on my family. I don't know anything about any of the other 17 families at all.
I don't understand these Saco and Sanford ward church members who keep showing up all upset because I'm trying to find out who murdered my son and left me crippled. What is their problem? It's MY family that's dead, not theirs, what the fuck business is it of theirs? Why are they so damned ruffled up about me asking for anyone with information to call the FBI? By being upset like this, they are just making themselves look suspicious. When they are mad that I'm asking people for help finding the killer, they just make themselves look like they are involved, they make it look like they know who the killer is, they make it look like they are protecting and defending the killer. Do they not realize how suspicious they make themselves look when they get angry that I ask on Facebook for anyone with info to please call the FBI and help put my son's killer in prison?
Do you remember Timmy? He's the same age as you and me. He's the one who lived at the black house next door to my on Portland Ave. He was the used car dealer, the one who always have a dozen or so cars lined up for sale across his front lawn. He also owned Etiole's swamp, my abutting neighbour from the back side of the land. He used to help me babysit Barbara's kids back in the 1970s and 1980s, we used to duo babysit together.
Timmy Murphy was the one beheaded June 2013 at the Ross Rd and Cascaed Rd intersection.
That's why I can't understand these Todd Murphy fucktrds who spent the entire of November 2021 to May 2022, daily arriving in my Biddeford driveway, chanting "Todd Murphy! Todd Murphy! Todd Murphy! Todd Murphy! Todd Murphy!" while vandalizing both the building and my car. They did $10k+ in damages to my Volvo and they did so much damage to the building that landlord Matt Holiday couldn't afford to repair the apartment building so he sold it because the city of Biddeford was going to condemn the building and kick out all 9 families at 409 Maine Street, because the Todd Murphy fucktard attackers did so much damage to the building. People know about them cutting all the wires off the building, but it was a lot more then that. They did huge amounts of stucture damage to the building itself as well. That's why Matt sold the building. He just didn't have enough money to repair the damages.
But the thing was, these vandals were acting like they thought I knew who Todd Murphy was, and I never heard of anyone by that name before. I think they mixed up whoever this Todd Murphy was with my cousin Timmy... who is not an Atwater... what the fuck are the Atwaters even talking about? Timmy was my dad's older sister's god-son. My aunt Victoria from Portland? The one who lived in that big tower on the waterfront up on the Promanard.
Why are the Atwaters so damned fucking arrogant that they think they are the only relatives I have? The Allens of Allen Ave in Portland are my relatives too you know, and Timmy Murphy was one of them. You know, the whole family who founded Amatos... the woman who founded Amatos was my dad's great aunt. That's why we always get free food at Atmatos, their family. The Atwaters don't hold a fucking monopoly over me, what the hell is wrong with them? You know, I'm sick of the Atwaters barging their way into everything and trying to make everything be about them. They aren't the center of the world and they need to stop acting like they are.
Near as I can tell, these Todd Murphy vandals are conneted to the Atwaters somehow, but I don't know how. And again, they are impeeding a fucking FBI murder investigation. Do the Atwaters know how to do ANYTHING other then stick their busy body noses in places they don't belong? What the fuck?
Do you know what the police said? They said Todd Murphy is the son of someone my mother and Barbar fight with on FaceBook. I've had my mother and Baraba both blocked on FaceBook since the shit they pulled back in 213 after my son was murdered. I don't have a fucking clue who my mother or Barbara are friends with on FaceBook, I have them blocked. I've had them blocked for 10 years this Novmber.
But then, I have fucktards from the Sanford Ward church showing up here now, do you realize how far they have to drive to get here to my driveway? What the hell? And they claim that Todd Murphy was a member of the Sanford Ward... you know what he's not on the rouster. You know I'm a member of that church right? I got access to the rouster, because my husband is the high preist quorum leader of that church... there's no one named Todd Murphy who is a member of the Sanford Ward church, and there hasn't been in the last 48 years that I've attended that church. So now I'm left wondering, even more what the fuck?
Who the ell is Todd Murhy and why the fuck should I care? I haven't got a clue what these people are talking about. I don't know who they are and I don't know who their Todd Murphy is.
Only thing I can figure, is somehow, something my mother and Barbara said, convinced these people that when I talk about Timmy Murphy's murder case that I'm talking about Todd Murphy. But why? Was Todd Murphy murdered in 2013 of the Ross Rd in Old Orchard Beach, same as my cousin Timmy Murphy, who was also my abutting neighbor and had the same birthday as me, so we celebrated our birthdays together, you know because we grew up together and knew each other own entire lives?
I mean, what the hell? And what does Todd Murphy have to do with The Ouelltte case aka the beheaded girl in the Scarborogh Marsh from 20 years ago? That's what they were talking about last night... thee Snford Ward members who were here in my ard in Biddeford last night, who yes, I do know who they are, but I don't know who this Todd Murphy is that they are talking about or what he has to do with my cousin Timmy Murphy and that girl, both being beheaded down the street from my Old Orchard Beach farm?
I asked, no one in Timmy's family knows any one named Todd. None of my Scarborough or Old Orchard Beach Murphy relatives know or have ant relatives named Todd, so none of them, know what the fuck these people in Biddeford are talking about. You know just because someone has the same last name, doesn't mean they are relatede, right? Do these Todd Murphy people who won't stop hrassing us, and now clearly have a connection to the Sanford Ward realize that?
And what is with Joel Bailey? What? Yeah... they're bringing Joel Bailey back into stuff? He went to prison in 2013, he, if you forgot was the counsellor of the Bisiop of the Saco Ward church, the entire bishiprisk went to prision, 2 to 10 years each one, along with the Old Orchard Beach Town Manager, oh wait, he was one of the bishipric, and 13 people from the Old Orchard Beach town hall and police departments, all members of the Saco Ward church, for stealing a little bitty number of thirty MILLION dollars in Old Orchard Beach tax funds out of the town hall bank account, which I only found out about, because they tried to forge my name onto the documents and that was why FBI Laura, the agent ho was murdered in Florida on Feberuary 6, 2021, was sent to interview me in 2007, 2010, and 20134... the Saco Ward church bishopric stole $30million from the Old Orchard Beach town hall and tried to pin it on me, only, I can't count, mI never learned math, and they didn't know I couldn't possibly have written the math figures. I don't know how to do money and only someone really good with money could have done the things they did. They also put a lot of stuff in Ken Shoop's name. That Joel Bailey, the one who is now out of prison and likes to walk circles around my Biddeford apartment all summer long in 2022. Yeah, I am aware he's back, the mini-Winnie RV that parks at the Biddeford High School at night, he is the one driving it.
Given his past history, no, I'm not surprised at all to find his name bring brought back up. Though the Saco Ward Mormons now trickling out of prison and back on the streets, would explain why the vandalism started up again, seeing how they were the ones who used to do most of it and the vandalism did stop when they went to prison.
I'm sick of the Atwaters and their Mormon friends. They're nothing but criminals, drug dealers, and gangster thugs.
The fact remains, the only thing I'm focused on is finding my son's killer and the Atwaters and their Mormon thugs, are interupting that, and I want to know WHY? No one who is not guilty of being involved in my son's murder has any reason or incentive to be here harassing me and telling me to take the FBI phone number off my FaceBook wall, and that's what they are doing and I want to know why. What business is it of theirs if the FBI phone number is on my FaceBook wall and what is their involvment with my son's murder that they think the FBI phone number on my FaceBook wall effects them?
Here's a weird one… I just got a text message from a Sanford Ward Mormon which states: "I've known you for 40 yeas I would remember you being attacked how come you never mentioned it before now"
Uhm… since 1996, my website, originally known as Space Dock 13, has documented daily blog posts of every day of my life.
The July 2, 2001 attack, when a house mover cut our house in half, put it on a flatbed and drove it to Waterville, was documented the day it happened. It was also the first attack. My neighbor's German shepherd dog was beheaded and left in the bucket of his bulldozer that same day.
Go look at my blog… every day since July 2, 2001 , every attack, from the minor paintball attacks to the big house bomb attacks, are all documented, each blog post written the day it happened. There are more then ten thousand daily blog posts just on that one blog, chronologizing every event of every day of my life and including every attack, since June 2001.
That fact that they only just noticed it now, does not mean, I've never mentioned it… it just means they were too self absorbed to notice anything going on around them. It also means I was never important enough to them, for them to notice I was homeless, or in the hospital, or had a baby that was murdered. … their shock of just discovering these things, says more about their lack of caring about me, then anything else.
As for the headless girl and dogs in the marsh, the murder of my cousin Timmy Murphy, and the golf club attack ,the 3 events they specifically brought up in their text…
I had Squidoo articles about all 3 events. Squidoo went out of business in 2014.
I have more then a thousand blog posts published between 2007 and 2013, on Tumblr, BlogSpot, and WordPress, about those 3 events.
On YouTube I had more than 2k video uploads between 2008 and 2017 that did absolutely nothing but talk about those events, and included the interrogations by police and Fbi, which I've recorded all of since May 2015. So, yes, you can go watch FBI agent Andy Drewer, lawyer Gene Libby in the Biddeford District Court, and police officer Will Watson, and dozens of others talking about these events, on YouTube, because my camera catches everything.
Since 2008, I have posted daily on Facebook and Twitter asking for witnesses to come forward about the dead dogs and the marsh girl...
Since June 2013, I added Tim Murphy to my daily Facebook request for witnesses to come forward,
Since August 2013, I added the back hoe driving over my house info to my daily Facebook requests for witnesses to come forward.
since November 2013, daily every single day requests for witnesses to the attack at phi theta Kappa ceremony at bug light lighthouse, where my baby was murdered and I was left crippled for the rest of my life.
I'm still crippled by the way, are they going to tell me they didn't notice that either? Did they not notice I was 5 months paralyzed, wait I know that person noticed because in February 2014 that exact same person carried me to their car and from their car into the hospital precisely because I was paralyzed and couldn't walk…. The person who carried me to the hospital because I was paralyzed and had to be carried is the exact same person who is now saying they don't remember this… and yet, they are the ones who had to fill out the paperwork to admit me in the hospital and their signature is on those documents. So, proof they are lying, right there.
after the June 2016 attack by the 2013 golf club woman, this time at walmart, the fbi gave me a hotline number for witnesses to call... this phone number has been on the flyers in the windows of my Volvo ever since June 2016 and these events are printed on said flyers.
Also in June 2016 the Old Orchard Beach Libby library and the Biddeford McArthur library and the Old Orchard Beach Salvation Army Church all printed up flyers about these events, and spent the summer handing them out to tourists and the fBI number was on all of those.
This is all very well documented as, I have been post them DAILY for over a decade now... and I talk about it constantly in my livestreams which I started doing in May 2015.
Just because one person had their head shoved too far up their church's ass to know what was going on in their own family, and they only just now noticed what was going on around them, doesn't mean I only just now started talking about it.
This is why I don't like churches. Church people are so focused on their Bibles that they haven't got a clue what's going on in the real world around them.
Not to mention all of the police reports, there are more than four hundred police reports, which span twenty one police departments, in three states as well as the Maine state police and the Florida state police, plus the FBI besides! Most of those police reports are public record, you can go read them for yourself. As far as I know only 3 of them were classified and sealed from public access which means there's still 400+ that can be read. There were newspaper reports of some of the attacks. And even though I don't own a TV so have never seen the tV news reports, I know those exist because there were so many TV station news reporters showing up in my yard with camera crews asking for interviews with me. This case is so damned well documented. It's utterly ridiculous to think there is a single person in Southern Maine who is so self absorbed and so oblivious that they have never heard of this case or any of the events that have happened within it in the last 18 fucking years!
But the worst part is, this my own church, a church I have been a member of for 48 fucking years, that is saying, they never heard of this! What the hell? There were more than 24 people from the Saco and Sanford Wards arrested by the FBI just since 2015, because of their involvement in this case. Several of them are still in prison. These people are really that oblivious that they didn't know I was in the hospital, they didn't know I was in a wheelchair, they didn't know my son was murdered, and they didn't noticed 24 members of their congregation disappeared because they went to prison for their involvement.
Really? Wow do these people really give a shit about their fellow congregation members or what? They not only didn't notice I was missing from meetings for 9 years because I am bedridden now, they also didn't notice 24 other members not in meetings because they are now in prison. Talk about dense numb skulls.
It appears the High Priest is back. You, Paul, have met the High Priest. You met him at WalMart. You met him at McDonalds, where you had a 4 hour long conversation with him. You met him my yard in Old Orchard when you visited a few days after the April 0, 2015 attack, and can I add here that you are the ONLY person since that happened, to ever once stop by and ask how I was doing, it’s you’re the only person I knew before the murder of my family, whom I still talk to. You ARE the only person, who ever showed you actually cared about what was going on.
Not one single member of my family or my church has ever stopped to see how I was doing, has ever asked online how I was doing.
But, since November 2021, Sanford Ward mormons have been showing up, all of them in wild raging infernos, and all of them talking about people and events I know nothing about, so I have no clue what any of them ae talking about, but they act like they think I know who the names they mention are, in particular they are cult-like worshiping someone names Todd Murphy whom I can only assume they have gotten mixed up with my beheaded cousin Tim Murphy of Pine Point district of Scarborough and Old Orchard Beach, somehow.
They showed up near daily from November 21, 2021 until May 17, 2022. They were lead on by two blond girls who looked like twins, and have mega long knee-length hair they kept in pony tails, and a smaller pudgier girl with a mint-green pixie hair cut. I don’t know these girls, they looked to be in their 20s. They are the same girls who spent the entire summer of 2021 harassing the homeless man who was living under the trestle bridge across the street from us. They would show up on bicycles every night around 1AM, chase him up out of the ravine, then chase him up the old back tracks along the dirt road to South Street, up towards your place. They did that every night for about 5 months, until he got hit by a freight train on Nov 19, 2021 at 6:27PM. They started attacking my and my family Nov 21, 2021, I think because they knew I had video footage of them harassing the homeless man and I think too they were pissed that I call the police when they killed him by cornering him at the bridge overpass so he couldn’t get out of the way of the oncoming train. Outside of them nightly harassing the homeless man, and then spending Nov 21, 2021 to May 17, 2002 chanting “Todd Murphy” in my driveway while vandalizing my car and apartment building, I’ve never seen these girls before of since. They seemed to have completely vanished May 17, 2022. Not seen them at all and the vandalism stopped cold turkey that day. I assume the police must have finally caught and arrested them, but the police never said they did, and in the past when someone harassed me, the police would always ask me to go to the station to ID them after the arrest.
In any case, the “Todd Murphy” dipshit bitches stopped harassing us May 17, 2022, and I heard no more of them, until this past month… only it’s not them showing up this time… this time it’s older people, elderly people in their 70s and 80s, members of the Sanford Ward Mormon church across the street from Curtis Lake Church… Curtis Lake Church being the congregation that shows up in my Old Orchard driveway with the “god hates fgs” signs and calling me a transvestite and calling my car gay, and marching around chanting “too gay for the family friendly town of Old Orchard Beach”... several Curtis Lake members have been arrested by the FBI and gone to prison for their involvement in both the April 10, 2015 attack on my family and the headless Marsh girl. However, to date,, the killer has not been found, every one arrested so far has always been weird “cultist-like” gay-haters who are attacking people in the area while chanting “kill or be killed remember Saco Shaws” and then rambling gibbering about heads in ice cream. The people arrested, for 5 different local churches, are all outspoken in radically preaching a doctrine of beheading anyone suspected of being gay, while stating that they are doing so on god’s orders.
That’s why there has been so much difficultly in finding out who killed the marsh girl and my cousin Murphry and my family, because, it looks like it’s not just one person, but rather an entire group of people involved, and so far, all evidence has pointed to those 5 churches: Saco Ward, Sanford Ward, Grace Point, Curtis Lake, and New Life, all in Biddeford, Saco, or Sanford, and all run by just 2 families. One family runs 3, another family runs the other 2.
Anyways, I was just thinking, and I think I figured out why the Sanford Ward Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints members are seemingly so clueless and unaware that I have been crippled and bedridden for nine years and why they were unaware that 24 members of their congregation have gone to prison, arrested by the FBI for being accomplices in the The Ouellette Murder Case aka The Cascade Murders aka The string of beheading on and around Portland Ave, Ross Rd, and Cascade Rd the past twenty years, which included the headless girl I found in the Scarborough Marsh, my cousin Timmy Murphy whom I found headless on the Ross and Cascade Rod crossroads, the beheading of my own foster children… Ben is the common link to all of them.
Ben, as you know, has severe dissociative identity disorder, that was brought on when his brother Willy commit suicide.
Ben has seven different, very distinctive different “people” living in him, that we know of, there could be moe then 7. Etiole is the one most locals are familiar with, though he does not call himself Etiole, Etiole being a name locals dubbed him. However, there is the High Priest, who is the one you, Paul, are personally most familiar with.
I’ve not seen the High Priest since April 10, 2015. Ben WAS there the day of the attack, he was also attacked… the attackers had me, my mother, one of my brothers, and Ben, all on the ground with guns to our heads, while they use a weird looking long pole with a piano wire-like loop on the end, to cu the heads off of everyone else who was there. Me, my mother, one of my brothers, and Ben, were the only ones to walk out of that attack alive. Ben’s favorite daughter Bella was one of the ones beheaded. His mind snapped, because, he recognized one of the attackers as “Rick”... When the attackers arrived, Ben ran up to one of them and said “Rick! What are you doing here?” Ben does have a friend named Rick… I know Rick. Rick is a very violent, vicious spouse abuser. His wife Paula used to come to church been to a pulp every week. Broken arms, broken legs, broken nose, black eyes. It went on for years. She finally divorced him and fled to Utah when he beat and nearly killed their teenage son. Rick has beaten me up, right in the Sanfard Ward church building. He’s a major bully, a huge bigot, and an extreme white power racists. Rick WAS there April 10, 2015… he didn’t have a white pillow case over his head like the rest of them did, but I don’t kow if he was a part of the attack or not, I was too busy trying to fight the bastard who was holding me own with a pistol in my face, to notice what Rick was doing. It was Rick though, his face in unmistakable… he has no face. Elephant man disease, I think you cal it, but you can’t mistake Rick, and he WAS in my yard April 10, 2015 the day my family was murdered, I just don’t know what he was doing there or if he was involved in the attack or not.
The thing is, something snapped in Ben that day. ALL 7 of his multiple personalities vanished, including the High Priest, thankfully. You know how bad the High Preist could get, you met him several times.
Ben left the Mormon church. I don’t know what triggered him more: his favorite daughter Bella being beheaded in front of him or his best friend Rick, seeming to be the one leading the charge ahead of estimated 74 people in white robes and white pillow cases over their heads.
In either case, Ben has developed a server hatred for the Mormon church and refuses to set foot in a Mormon church building… he who was High Priest Quorum Leader of the Sanford ward for so many decades.
The thing about the High Priest, was he was everything so far the opposite of who Ben, my husband, actually is.
The High Priest Quorum Leader of the Sanford ward boldly proclaims to be a virgin. Ben in not a virgin. Not even close. He had a prostitute problem back in the 1980s when I met him.
The High Priest Quorum Leader of the Sanford ward boldly proclaims to not be married, yet Ben and I got married on the Old Orchard Beach Pier August 13, 1987, so he’s been married several decades and still is, we don’t live together because he’s terrified of the Bishop finding out he has a wife. Keeping in mind Mormons don’t forbid priests from marrying, however Ben grew up extreme strict Catholic and his brother is the current leader of Opis Dia and he has to keep up appearances of being a Catholic Priest for his brother, from times when he visites from Italy, which happens a few times a year. Ben became a High priest in the Mormon church, but then goes to several local Catholic churches when his brother is in America, so that he can say he’s a High Priest without lying about it, and keeps his brother thinking he’s Catholic High Priest when he’s actually a Mormon High Priest. In other words, Ben lives a very big double life of trying to juggle his priesthood in two religions, hiding it from each other religion, while also maintaining a (very annoyed) wife (me) that he hides from BOTH religions.
Which is WHY, I’m allowed to PUBLICLY be friends with you, because it helps him to keep up the facade of “see, I’m not married, she hangs around with Paul”, which yes, that IS what Ben tells people at church about you.
Yes, Ben is a dick, I am very aware of this.
But, here’s the thing… Ben TELLS ME he is no longer in contact with any Mormons whatsoever, claims he hates, them, claims he shuns them, claims he’s not spoken to any of them since April 10, 2015…. HOWEVER… he was caught in July 2022, giving one of the Sanford Ward Mormons a ride to the store…. And Rick specifically, has been one the phone with him, when I came in the room and he thought I was elsewhere, causing Be to run around in a panic, knock his glasses off, break them by stepping on them, all while Rick was screaming out of the phone, “Ben, ya there? What happened? What’s going on?”
It appears the High Priest is back…. However, I suspected this in November 2021… the High Priest uses specific pontificating phraseology that none of Ben’s other personalities use…. And on november 24, 2021, the same night the Sanfard Ward Mormons were here cutting the wires off our Biddeford apartment building, Ben started talking like the High Priest again. It’s really distinctive. Normal people don’t talk in long winded drawn out droning, monologuing pontifications about Jesus, and of Ben’s 7 known people living inside him, the High Priest is the only ne who does this. Ben was here and witnessed the wire cutting event, he even went out side and talked to the crowd of “Todd Murphy” chanting lunatics to try to talk to them… and,... he said one of them is Todd Murphy’s grandmother from the Sanford Ward. Ben indicated at that point that he knew who Todd Murphy was, but since then, has denied knowing who Todd Murphy is. But, he came in, and told me outright that “I know her from the Sanfard Ward, she’s Todd Murphy’s grandmother”..
Each of the 7 people who live in Ben have no knowledge or memory of the other 6, and when one of the 7 does or says something, none of the other 6 have any memory of doing or saying those things.
It appears that The High Priest knows Todd Murphy, not only that, but also knows the attackers who came here daily from November 21, 2021 to May 17, 2022… and it looks like Ben, in his High Preist version of himself, is the one who told them where I live and is the one who worked them into a frenzy to begin with.
I have video footage of the homeless man who died Nov 19, 2021… a LOT of it. He knew Ben. That was obvious. Me and Ben were walking Main Street every night the summer of 2021 and the homeless man from under the trestle bridge would stop to talk to us a few times a week. And those weren’t just videos, those were Twitch livestreams so everyone watching my channel saw this homeless man stop and talk to Ben… he said he knew us. I did not recognize him, but Ben… I don’t know… Ben acted like he did know the homeless man, but didn’t want me to know it, so he told the homeless man he was mistaken. But people around local are saying that thie homeless man who kept showing up in my videos IS Todd Murphy, they say they saw my videos and it was Todd Murphy in my videos.
I am finding this whole thing very confusing… because NOW… even though I have video footage of Ben talking to the homeless man, Ben now claims, he never saw the homeless man at all and tells me I’m delusional. That's what he said: Ben said: “Your delusional, there was no homeless man” and, yet hundreds of people, many of them local, saw those videos of Ben talking to the homeless man. Which means, the man Ben was when he was walking with mt summer 2021,is NOT the man he is right now… and… either this a new 8th personality Ben has recently developed, or, it’s the High Priest back, but being deliberately sneaky to try to hide the fact that he’s the High Priest… which is odd, because before now, NONE of Ben’s multiple personalities have ever showed any signs of acknowledging any of the others, and the High Priest trying to high he’s the High Priest by trying to act like a different person, indicates the High Priest DOES remember and IS AWARE of the other personalities.
As you are well aware, I HATE the High Priest. I want nothing to do with him. I never would have married Ben if I had ever encountered his High Priest alter ego before marrying him.
June 26, 2016… FBI Agent Andy Drewer asked me to meet him at his Portland office on Middle St. He had… info. And a new primary suspect. Ben, specifically his High Priest alter ego, is the FBI’s #1 suspect in being the inforat, who told the golf club attackers I was at BugLight Lighthouse November 14, 2013. The FBI has phone records. I told only 3 people, where I was going that night: my mother, my father, and Ben. I told them only 5 minutes before I left, because I had been sick earlier and had previously told everyone I was not going to that event at the college. According to the FBI, my parents and step father Wayne Whiyyen, never left Biddeford, they continued to argue all night, and the FBI knows this because my father had hired a private investigator to tail Wayne, and so they have a lot of evidence as to where 2 of the 3 were. Ben on the other hand, called his friend Rick, the same Rick who was in my yard April 10, 2015… Minutes after I left my dad’s Water St apartment and drive to Southern Maine Community College, November 14, 2013… Ben called Rick. Rick drove to Ben’s house. And the two of them together left.
FBI Agent Andy Drewer had one question: “How well do you trust Ben? Because right now, he’s our primary suspect.”
They believe Ben told Rick, I was pregnant with someone else’s baby and Rick is the one who sent the golf club women to deliberately kill my baby.
Why do they believe this?
Because between 1987 and 2013 I have had 7 miscarriages, something that can be proven… Ben ins the only man I’ve ever been with. It’s not possible for anyone else to be the father. This was my 8th pregnancy by Ben and he was at the time running around accusing me of cheating on him with Etiole. The thing is… he IS the one people call Etiole… but his D.I.D. means he things Etiole is someone else, he doesn’t believe its him, because none of his personalities have any memory of each other.
Ben is a total nightmare to live with because I never know from one day to the next, who the hell he is going to be that day.
Ben has denied every pregnancy. Why? His exact words are: “I wouldn’t. I am a High Priest. What would the Bishop think?”
According to the FBI too, Ben, behind my back, runs around from one LDS/Mormon congregation to the next tell people that I am quote: “An unrhightious, unfaithful aunty-Mormon who puts the church down.”
Interestingly, I have been a member of the Mormon church since 1975. Ben joined in the 1980s. Ben left the church in 2015. I am still a member.
My FATHER is an extremist anti-Mormon, who preaches hatred for the Mormon church. Not me. Kenny, my father, is the anti-Mormon. My father, is such a huge radical extremist anti-Mormon that he has gone on to convince my mother, a 5th generation Mormon who is related to one of Smith’s poly-wives, to leave the church. She left the Mormon church in 1994 and joined up with some anti-Mormon group lead by some woman named Tanner or something. My mother, took her anti-Mormonis to extremes far above and beyond my father, taking to FaceBook and a forum called exMormon something and went total psycho nutjob anti-Mormon conspiracy theory all over the internet through the late 1990s into the 200s and still does it to this day now in 2023, preaching her wild anti-Mormon conspiracy theories now 27 years. In 3 years it’ll be her 30th anniversary of her wild mega hyper anti-Mormon rampage, with my father cheering her on and needling her forward the whole way in a weird Bonnie and clyde style vendetta attack everyone who is a Mormon hate fueled bigotry.
I on the other hand, am still a Mormon, have never had anything to do with the anti-Mormon movement, and, was shocked to learn from the FBI, that, the anti-Mormon rumors about me online are massive, and spread largely by members of the Saco and Sanfard Wards, with their info being just misinformation they regurgitate after talking to Ben, my mother, or my father.
Apparently, because I am bedridden and crippled, since 2013, and thus have had no way to get to church these past nine years, this, my absence in church meetings, after 48 years of never once missing a meeting, has allowed my mother, my father, and Benn to be able to spread wild anti-Mormon rumors about me, with the 3 of them going to my church, the Sandford Ward, and telling the church leaders that I’m not in church because I’ve turned anti-Mormon.
And yet, it is Ben who is the biggest anti-Mormon of all… he’s actual friends with that Tanner woman. My parents only run around preaching the Tanner woman’s message, Ben, actually sought her out and became personal friends with her and helps the Tanner woman one on one…. And he brags about this all the time.
I’m sick of hearing all the anti-Mormon Tanner woman bullcrap from Ben and my father and my mother so, whenever any of the three of them start chiding me for being a Mormon and telling me how evil and deceived I am because I refuse to leave the Mormon church, I just put my headphones on and listen to Markiplier YouTube videos and, ignore them.
I don’t hate the Mormon church like Ben, my mother, and my father do, so I am fed up with them constantly bitching at me because I’m a Mormon. Which is why I’ve not spoken to my father in 3 years even though we live in the same apartment, and was a contributing factor to why I blocked my mother on FaceBook in 203 and have had no contact with her at all offline since… though that hasn’t stopped her from showing up, trespassing, and hounding me.
Ben, is far worse then my mother or my father combined… since 2015, he has hand written thousands of anti-Mormon letters to every church leader he can find, local, not local, all the heads in Utah… and he bought a dozen cases, each case with 144 books in it, cases of Ket Kerr’s books and daily mails them out to every member on every rouster list of every ward in the Exiter and Augusta stakes, using his position as High Priest Quorum leader to get the home addresses of every Mormon in Southern Maine and New Hampshire, mailing all of them aunty-Mormon letters and copies of Kat Kerr’s books. Ben, as you know, has more money then he knows what to do with, and right now, he’s spreading thousands of dollars every day, just on the postage stamps to mail Kat Kerr’s books and his anti-Mormon letters to every local Mormon he can find.
And so, I knew he was mailing out the Kat Kerr books… but, until FBI agent Andy Drewer told me, I did not know that Ben and my mother and my father, having been putting MY NAME of the letters they are mailing out to people, and the three of them, through impersonating me, have got my church, the Sanford Ward, and it’s sister church, the Saco Ward, 100% convinced that I stopped attending church because I’mm now an anti-Mormon who hates the church, and that’s why my church, the Sanford Ward, and it’s sister church, the Saco Ward, are both unaware that I have NOT left the church, but rather I’m bedridden and crippled and have no one to help me get to church.
And so, now I’m finding out, that Ben, my mother, and my father, working together, according to the FBI, seem to be the fuel that is, and has been for several years, the fuel working locals up into a frenzy… including, they are the ones who are getting the Atwaters riled up, my being an Atwater, and the Atwaters further fueling locals on top of what Ben, my mother, and my father are doing.
What is their motive?
I ask them.
My father says he’s doing it to impress my mother so she’ll remarry him.
My mother says she’s doing it because I need to sell my land and give her the money so she can buy a house in Kennebunk.
Ben says he’s doing it because Mormons are led astray by Satan and he has to save my soul from Hell.
I’m so sick of all of them.
You know, one of the things I find most weird about the Atwaters is that so many of them seem to think I know them, even though I have never met them, nor even know any of their names.
Of the original twelve, I have only ever met five of them. And while I know Danny, I don’t even know the names of his siblings. I met Angelia once when she was twelve, at a Halloween party at the Cape Elizabeth Ward LDS Church, and then I saw her for about 2 minutes before she left. And Danny I only met when I was 37 years old and I only saw him about 10 times, back when my mother was trying to scam him out of his money from being hit by a train… which I didn’t know that was why she was visiting him, until a few years later when she had a big rant about how she wouldn’t visit him any more because he was, in her words “stingy and greedy” because he refused to give her the money to “use as a downpayment for a house in Kennebunk”. I should have known that was why she was visiting him, as that’s the only reason she ever does anything. She’s obsessed with trying to by that $3.7million mansion by the Wedding Cake House, and has been trying to scam relatives out of money for a downpayment on it for decades now… it was her reason for her involvement in the backhoe that her brother Joey hired to drive over my house. She and Joey figured I’d sell my land if there was no house on it. They didn’t exect me to set up a lean to made out of a 8x6 tarp and just spend the next 9 years living under that.
I met Doris once when she was squatting illegally on my land back in 1996. Took me and the Old Orchard Beach Police 9 months to get them out. I only ever saw her one day. She had 4 military tents, the size houses, 2 Winobegos and a Cadillac, that they illegally dumped on top of my corn crops, along with more then 600 bicycles, and 2 school buses full of sawed up copper pipes. Took us 9 months to find out who in the hell was living there and dumping that garbage on m land, and it turned out it was Doris. Only time I ever saw her, was one day, for about 15 minutes.
I remember Micheal, Tonya, and Scotty from before the caged years, but, I was put in the cage hen I was 8 years old, so I’ve not seen then since I was 8.
Once every year, usually on September 19th, David and Lucy would show up with a herd of incredibly violent gun toting vandals who would go through our farm and use shovels to chop the heads off all our pet cats, dogs, hens, ducks, and roosters. They were kill 200 to 500 of our pets every year in this anuel bloodbath on my farm. I don’t know who the hoodlums were. David said they were his kids, but he also said he had 15 kids and there were WAY more then 15 people involved in the annual Sptember 19 boodbaths… way more, closer to 100. Brucie said once that it was not JUST Davivd’s kids, but also a group known as The Halls. I don’t know who any of them were, but the police showed up every time, trying to get them out, and they always had huge shootouts with the police every year. It’s why I have a massive phobia of guns. A bunch of them were arrested in 1982, when that time the state police drg team showed up and arrested them and confincasted meth, marhawana, opium, and LSD
I know Dickie, Brucie, David, and Barbara because they were the ones that helped my mother build that room, that they locked me in when I was 8 years old, right after my Grammy Hellen Ricker’s funeral. They kept me in there for 27 years. One of the 4 of them would show up every 12 days to throw rotted molded food in the cracks between the boards. They are the only 4 Atwaters I know, and I only know them from their weekly coming into the room to beat me up, torture me. They are the five who raised me and said I was not Human, said I was a Demon and that I wasn’t allowed out of that room because Demons weren’t allowed to have contact with Humans.
I was 12 years old when the High Priest found out about that room, and he took me out every Sunday to go to church, and then took me back to that room after.
No one ever told me I was a Human and was allowed to go outside or talk to Humans until the social workers showed up when I was 31 years old. They are the ones who started using the term “feral child” to describe me and they to this day are still trying to “integrate me into Human culture” but two of them say they have given up on trying to convince me I am Human, they say there is little chance of my mind ever fully grasping the concept of being human because it’s too difficult to undo the three decades of Brucie, David, Dickie, Barbara, and my mother doing their “child social experiment” (as the social workers call it) to raise me to believe I was not human. They said the bigger problem is the fact that almost immediately after I was rescued out of that room/cage they kept me locked in for 27 years, the 2006 bomb blew up my house, which the FBI says it was Barbara’s husband Paul Martel who did that, but I don’t know why, as I never met him or even knew about him prior to the FBI arresting him, and the backhoe arrived to drive over my house 5 different times over the next 10 years, same back hoe, same yard, different house each time, as I kept rebuilding houses. Then I found that headless girl in the marsh with all the headless dogs and the FBI thinks one of the Atwaters did it seeing how the headless dogs were lined up in a row from my land to the march, each dog about 500 feet apart (for some reason the Saco and Sanford ward church members forget my land in Old Orchard abuts the Scarborough Marsh and is right on the edge of OOB bordering Pine Point in Scarborough. And that the dead girl in the Scarborough marsh was literally only a few hundred feet away from my driveway… they keep asking why I am obsessed with the Oulette Case, but they forget I’m the one who found the dead girl in the Marsh and that she was set up in a friging ritual pose, practically on my front lawn AND the FBI thinks the whole thing was done in some weird attempt by the Atwaters to frame me, so that I would go to prison for murder and they culd take my land… which it’s always my land and the Atwater obsession with taking it that is at the core of everything)
But in any case, the social workers say that because these events were my very first interactions with Humans, that it instilled in me an psychosis effect of further belief in not being human because I had trouble accepting the fact that I am the same type of creature as the monsters humans are, because, yeah, all I’ve ever seen from humans is death, bloodshed, violence and distruction. I have no reason to WANT to be integrated into a society that leaves headless dogs and headless girls in my front yard.
But then 2013, came along…. Social workers got me into college in 2010, in an attempt to show me that ONLY the Atwaters were shitty bloodthirsty bastards and that MOST humans don’t drop dead headless animals all over their houses and yards the way the Atwares do. And they were right. Humans in college were nothing like the Atwaters and their drug dealing, petty thieve, ganster thugs. The social workers and police keep telling me that this sort of behavior is not normal and that it is ONLY something the Atwaters and their friends do, that normal humans don’t act, do, or say the things the Atwaters do.
But then, I’m constantly running into people who make the claim to “know all about” me and they will spout off this weird freaked out stuff about witchcraft and curses and spelcasting and aliens and ufos and, I’m left totally clueless because I don’t know a single thing at all about witchcraft or curses or spellcasting or aliens or ufo, and I can’t figure out why these people think I have the faintest idea what the fuck they are even talking about.
They’ll say they thought I was some expert in casting curses and say they want to hire me to cast curses on people, and they act like spell casting is some sort of job I do. I don’t know heads or tails about spell casting.
They’ll say, “But your the sea witch of Old Orchard Beach”... yeah, people have been calling me that ever since Stephen King filmed Thinner on my land back in the early 1990s, but, I’ve never read a Stephen King book or seen a Stephen King movie, not even Thinner, so, I haven’t got a clue what is in his books and movies. All I know is he based some “Gypsy witch” in Thinner off me, because I’m the “Queen” (aka Priestess) of a local Gypsy clan. A Gypsy Queen is similar to a Catholic Nun in the Folk Catholicism of Mexico and has nothing to do with witches, witchcraft, spells, or curses, so I don’t know what the fuck Stephen King did in the Thinner movie to make people think I’m some kind of spell casting witch, but, people seem to have trouble understanding that the Thinner movie is FICTIONAL. I’m not a witch and I don’t know the first thing about witches or witchcraft. I haven’t got a clue how to cast spells or curses. And I can’t figure out why so many total random strangers think they can walk up to me at WalMart or Rotary Park or the library and demand I cast some curse on someone for them.
But, when these people do this, and it happens EVERY SINGLE TIME I go outside, which I have agoraphobia, so it’s sometimes weeks or months between my setting foot outside, every single time I go out, some one always identifies me as a witch and watches a curse cast.
At the same time I’ve got these UFO nuts constantly coming up to me asking me this or that about some weird ass alien ufo idea, and I never have a clue what they are talking about, They use all sorts of weird ass words and phrases that I’ve never heard before and gibber on like another language which I can’t understand… but then they act all surprised that I don’t know the meanings of the words they are using, and they’ll say: “But I thought you were supposed to be a top expert on UFOs and alien abductions” and I’m like what the hell are they even talking about and how the hell would anyone in their right mind come to think that I would believe in ufos or aliens, when I think people who believe in ufos and aliens are raving lunatics, my uncle Brucie being a perfect example of a raving lunatic who believes in aliens and ufos.
I don’t get it.
But then, every time this happened, and it just happened again today, because, as you know I’ve not received any mail since May 2022 and I went to the post office yet again today to once again ask where the hell is my mail… and low and behold, I can’t set foot outside without some alien believing, curse believing freak ass weirdo nutjob showing up to ask me to put a curse on someone while gibbering about ufos.
I ask him, where the hell did he get the ludacris idea that I was a witch, that I cast curses, or that I believed in aliens, nd he said: “Well, your mother says on FaceBook…” yeah, my mother is a freaking nut, which is why I’ve had nothing to do with her in decades. She’s a white power freak who runs around calling black people the n-word, is part of the anti-vaccer micro-chip in vaccines conpreracy theory, wouldn’t let me or my brothers go to school because in her words “the government controls the schools, and satan controls the government”, SHE spends 90% of her time running around putting curses on people, all she does is talk about whores and demons, demons and whores, every other word out of her mouth is either demon or whore. And the only time she ever shows up its because she’s trying to pul yet another lame ass scam to try to steal my land because she hated my grandmother and says it’s her life duty to destroy everything that”ever bolgned to that old bitch of a whore” including the farm I inherted from gramy Helen. My mother is spiteful, violent, vindictive, and has a police record for running around beating people in the face with bricks. On top of all of that she’s chronic liar and I’ve never heard a truthful word come out of her mouth.
I am well aware that my mother is the source of 90% of the problem, simply because she’s the biggest fucking gossip in Southern Maine, after he sister Barbara, and the two of them are rather famous all over Maine for thei trouble they have caused HUNDREDS of families. They are petty Karens who devote every minute of their lives to making up vicsious rumors and lies about every person they see, both people they know and people they don’t know.
And thanks to the FBI investigation into the murder of my on, I’ve found out a LOT about both my mother and Barbara and the bizarre, outlandish extremes they each have gone to in their petty vindictivness.
But the fact remains, I’ve not had contact with either of those bitches in several decades, precisely because I am sick and tired of their endless hate for everything and everyone around them. They both do nothing but gossip and lie, lie and gossip, and run around like a couple of teenage brats making a game out of seeing who they can hurt next … they fucking brag about it and spend hours laughing over how fun it is to destroy families.
It doesn’t take any level of intelligence to see that the dynamic trio (Barbara, Brucie, and my mother) are the source of every damn rumor about everyone in York County, Maine.
It’s such a big problem that I’ve had people come to my apartment and ask me if I could ask my mother and her siblings to leave their family alone. The fucking Biddeford Police have stopped by my apartment to ask me if I could do anything about my mother, that’s how I found out it was HER who knows Todd Murphey, because the police came right out and told me that my mother has been harassing Todd Murphey’s ex-wife and 15 year old son on their FaceBook accounts and wanted to know if I could ask her to stop.
No. I can’t. And you know why? Because when I asked her to stop spreading witchcraft and curse casting rumors about me, she arrived the next day and cut my car in half! The 1964 Dodge 330… she said it had a demon in it and she had to kill the demon by killing the car. What the fuck? She’s fucking insane!
And worse… half the time, these people will tell me some name I never heard of. Say this or that person told them I was a witch who cast curses or was some alien expert, and I’ll ask them who the hell is that, and they’ll say: “Oh that’s one of Brucie’s kids” or “David’s kids” or a grandkid… and I’ll point ou that I’ve NEVER EVEN MET Brucie's kids or Davids kids or ANY of the rest of the Atwares.
There are more then four hundred Atwaters, and I’ve meet EXACTLY SEVEN of them in my life time. I don’t even know the names of all the original twelve, let alone the names of their kids or grandkids… why would I? Most of them live in Utah and I’ve not set foot outside of Maine for nearly SIXTY YEARS!
I’ve never in my entire life even talked with an Atwter, not face to face off line, not online.
Because I’ve never even seen pictures of any of the Atwaters, I wouldn’t even know an Atwater if I saw one!
And yet, they run around spouting off things I supposedly said or did, and make the claim I’ve talked to them… and I’m just left wondering who the fuck is running around talking to the Atwaters while pretending to be me, because I don’t even know who the Atwaters are!
Clearly, there is someone out there pretending to be me and the Atwaters think they are talking to me, but they are NOT talking to me, I’m not talking to them, and I want to know in the the fuck is running around pretending to be me?
Its so damned fucking obvious the Atwaters don’t know one iota about me, just by the level of the ludicrous witchcraft, curse, alien, and ufo lies they spread around about me!
I should be able to go to my post office, go shopping, heck just walk down my driveway to get my mail, without being bombarded with stupid ass freaks gibbering about witches, curses, demons, aliens, and ufos! I am so damned sick of my mother and her fucking Atwater relatives…
You know, another thing that’s fucked up about all this and again is my mother running around lying her ass off to hell and back, yet again… is this whole situation with HER cats.
The attack on my family, happened the same day as the whole thing with her cats, and she is so obsessed with the cats, that she has gone out of her way to run around telling people that when I talk about April 10, 2025, I’m talking about HER cats… but, in order to further promote that lie, she also tells people they were MY cats! What the fuck?
You know that Nick guy my mother sleeps around with? The one she broke up his marriage, convinced him to leave his wife and kids down in Mass and move up here to Maine, because she was scamming him… the guy she stole his credit card and went and bought that shed she put on my land, and bought those $2k dogs with, and bought those appliances with, and bought that tractor with, before that Nick guy found out she stole his credit cards? Him.
Did you know, she convinced him that she owned MY land in Old Orchard Beach, and she tried to get him to join her scam, and pretend he was a real estate agent, and my mother and her pimp Nick tried to sell my land last year… and this is not the first time she’s done this.
Did you know, that in 2007, she went to the town hall, pretending to be me, had them divide my land into sections, and then sold one section? That’s why Don Cooliard and his sister have a house in my driveway now… something they built in 2019… and it was when they built the house in 2019, that was when I found out my shit face mother and her jackass whore master Nick, sliced off a peice of my land in 2007 and sold it!
I had no idea they had done it!
That’s the kind of shit faced scum bag scam artist my mother and her fuck buddy Nick are!
But it gets worse.
My mother had 83 cats… eighty three cats.
And she was hiding 113 of them in an apartment owned by this Nick scammer. He found out she had cats in her apartment… guess what day… April 14, 2015. The day before the attack on my farm.
Here’s a thing… did you know there were no locks on the doors of my motorhome? Not one. I bought it February 21, 2012, and first thing I did was took all the locks off, because I have a PTSD phobia of locks, after my mother kept me locked in the room cage thing for 27 years.
And yet… when the vandals showed up with a Blow Brothers sewage truck to fill my motorhome with 500 gallon of raw feces, they had to pry a padlock off the door to get inside. A padlock, that I did not put there.
Do you know how that padlock got there? My mother put it there the night before, when she took HER thirteen cats, and shoved them in my motorhome, without telling me she was doing it… because she had to hide them from Nick.
People often ask, why, I a professional artist whom has had displayed at the Portland Museum of art… don't paint anymore.
It’s because paint supplied are expensive, and 500 gallons of raw human feces not only did $10k in damages to my bedroom, it also destroyed $30k in art materials.
But it gets worse… my mother was two timing Nick with both my father Kenny and her other ex husband Wayne… and on top of that, she was mad at Wayne, so, it turns out, that 7 of those cats were HIS cats, and she had stolen them from HIM…. so not only was she hiding thirteen cats from Nick, but seven of those cats were stolen cats besides!
She put the cats in my motorhome, them, because she is fueding with ALL her whore master fuck buddy men, one of them, the FBI hasn’t figured out which one yet, filled my motorhome with feces out of a Blow Brother’s sewage truck (my cousin Ken Blow is my neighbour, they stole one of his trucks to do it) , and then called the police and told them that the motorhome was HERS, because my mother had been running around telling everybody it was hers, she these guys thought they were pumping sewage into my mother’s bedroom and didn’t know they were pumping sewage into my bedroom.
But, because they DID know that she had put the cats in there, and they were made at both her and Wayne, they thought if they called the police, the police would arrest her and Wayne…
,...however, the gays haters of the local Mormon churches ALSO showed up that same morning, a completely separate incident from the cats, to attack my family, because, earlier that year, I had published a gay Romance novel, called Night of the Screaming Unicorn, and these gay hating church freaks, decided murdering my family was punishment for me publishing a Gay Romance novel.
A fucking five towns worth of police, including a SWAT team showed up… the white robed klan pretenders fled, thep police found the cats, I was left asking “What cats? What are you even talking about?” Later an officer asked me if I knew the cats, and I said, “Yeah, these ones belong to my step father Wayne up in Biddeford and those ones belong to my on the other side of Bideford, how the hell did they get in my motorhome?”
And the court cases people talk about… there where SEVEN different court cases going on all at once, including the Guy Gamon murder trail because he murdered my dog walker who walked my dog when I was sick, which was the big case, that uncovered he was a serial rapist, and went on for several years and included a jury trial.
The murder trail of my family was also going on. Different court case.
And then, my MOTHER had a court case going on with police over the cats, which, in the middle of that, she spun it around, started telling people the cats were mine, and the next thing I knew, there were TWO MORE court cases slapped on me, that I knew nothing about… both an extension of the cat case my mother had going on, because 2 weeks into HER court case about HER cats that SHE hid from Nick in MY motorhome, she had Nick convince the police to switch the case out of her name into my name, because she had convinced Nick that the cats were mine! So all of a sudden, I get this weird court case about HER cats slapped on me, on top of the three murder cases and rape case, that were already going on.
The cat court case lasted less then an hour before the judge threw it out of court, telling some Dan guy that if he ever tried to pull a stunt like this again (apparently he worked for the Old Orchard Beach town hall and had pulled scam court cases to frame disabled women before, because the judge told the Dan guy that this was the 64th bogus case he had done to try to steal land from disabled women in OOB)...... but… the judge was asking me about the cats, and I keep telling him, I don’t know anything about the cats because they were not my cats, they were my mother’s cats, and I still had no clue how they had even gotten in my motorhome in Old Orchard Beach, 14 miles away from Nick’s apartment in Biddeford where they had been for several years before that. Finally the judge asked if someone could get my mother to the court house, and surprisingly she showed up… with Nick of all people… and she boo-hooed to the court about the cats being mine, and my being homeless and living under a tarp (I was still living under the tarp in 2015, but not at the time of the attack… I had just moved in with my dad in Biddeford March 31, 2015 due to I have just come out of intensive surgery and the doctor wanted me to not be sleeping outdoors for the next 6 months because I had intensive amounts of surgery to heal from, so I wasn’t in Old Orchard the day my mother put HER cats in my motorhome and that’s why I had no clue the cats were in there).
Well, the judge got mad at my mother, because it was blatantly obvious to him that the cats were hers, because she was using all the cats’ names, while I didn’t know the cats’ names, and she was describing what they looked like and what breeds and ages they were, while I didn’t know what half the cats looked like, Three of the cats I had never even seen before, and I didn’t know their names. I didn’t know how many cats there were!
The judge outright told my mother to her face that she ought to be ashamed of what she did, framing me and pretending the cats were mine, and he sent the cats to the West Kennebunk Animal Shelter, something we knew right there in the court room, but in order to get pity, and money (my mother started a fund raiser on one of those kickstarter type places) saying she needed to raise money to locate the cats. What the fuck? We knew where the cats were. They were at the West Kennebunk Animal Shelter… she even went there to try to get them back… asked me to drive her there in my car, took Wayne with her because the cats were technically HIS cats that she stole from him… I have the whole thing on video camera, it was livestreamed… she had a big fucking fight with the people at the shelter and they told her they’s arrest her if she ever tried to get near their shelter again.
After that, she built up this weird ass conspiracy that the cats were sent to lots of shelters and foster care… which they probably were., I don’t know… and she went from one animal shelter to the next harassing them.
Meanwhile, her friend Joel Baily hacks my Twitter account and uses it to harass, yet another of my mother’s whore master men that she sluts around with trying to get money out of… some guy named Mark, who I never heard of before, but apparently, he’s been friends with my mother AND my father for some forty odd years, even though I myself had never seen or heard of him before. And yes, the same Joel Bailey from the Saco Ward and Old Orchard Beach town hall who went to prison for hacking the Old Orchard Beach Town Hall bank account and transferring $30MILLION in OOB tax money to members of the Saco Ward church… who it turns out, most of them were the anti-gay attackers in my yard April 10, 2015, which is why 24 members of that church went to prison between 2016 and 2021.
So, I’m still unable to do anything because, you know, still recovering from major spine surgery, because of the golf club attack that murdered my son in 2013, three years earlier, I didn;t have surgery until 2015 and 2016., because of the fucking red tape the USA medical system runs on… here I am, not online at all since November 14, 2013, so I have not yet told anyone about any of the April 10, 2015, and come January 2016, all of a sudden, there’s the Mark guy who crawls out of the woodwork, with yet another court case, this one claiming I was saying stuff on Twittrer about him… and yet, I had never heard of this guy before AND I hadn’t been online since November 14, 2013, so what the fuck? Who the hell is hacking my Twitter account pretending to be me, while harassing this guy I never even heard of before. But by this point FBI Agent Andy Drwer had taken over the whole case, and by June 2016, he found out, yeah,:” it’s your mother’s friends from the Saco Ward church. She’s convinced them the cats were yours and that you need to be punished for animal abuse, that you didn’t even do, by hacking your accounts and framing you” Great. So yet again, my mother and her cat obsession and her Atwater friends, and her Saco ward friends, and her fcck buddies are at the core of all of this, with them once again, putting my name on something I fucking had no part of and didn’t even know anything about! What the fuck!
This court case was ALL livestreamed, you can go watch it on YouTube. The Cat Court case was also live streamed. You can watch that on YouTube too. The murder court cases and the rape court cases, also livestreamed. You can watch them on YouTube too. And then on top of that, was the Too Gay For Old Orchard Beach Court case with the Old Orchard Bach Town Hall… also livestreamed, you can watch that on YouTube as well.
My mother, Nick. all these Saco Ward church people, the Dan guy, the Mark guy, the Gene guy… they are ALL on livestream… the judges, the police officers, the witnesses, the DA, even the FBI agents… all recorded, all livestreamed on Twich, all archived on YouTube, all SEVEN court cases, every day of every trial. You can go watch them all yoursel and see the truth, instead of listening to siller gossip and rumors started by my mother and her Nick buddy trying to cover their asses for trying to steal my land YET AGAIN, via the cats.
But have you ever noticed it is ONLY my mother and Nick talking about the cats in connection to April 10, 2015… do you notice how I never talk about the cats, because… oh look… they were NOT my cats, they were my MOTHER’S cats and that’s why SHE is talking about them?
Did you also notice how, in order to make people believe the cats were mine, that both my mother and Nick, are going out of their way to try to erase the existence of my family that was murdered that same day?
Did you notice how in order to push THEIR cat agenda, my mother and Nick are are doing a major gaslighting move to try to make everyone FORGET what happened two years earlier on November 14, 2013, the day my son was murdered and my spine was broken?
Did you notice how my mother and Nick are trying to use THEIR cats as a slight of hand move, so people wouldn’t see that they DID steal and sell part of my land to Don Colliard in 2007 nd that they tried to sell another section of my land in March 2015… yes, yet another court case which was going on, BEFORE the cats happened, and that the FBI believes my mother and Nick pulled the cat stunt deliberately to try to make people look the other way and forget that she and Nick tried to steal my land only 2 weeks prior to the cat event? Or that she and Nick tried for a THIRD time to steal and sell my land April 2022…
Know the truth.
Those cats were not mine, they never were, and I’m sick and tired of the jack ass fucking animal abuse rumors and lies my mother and Nick are spreading about me… lies that they are spreading ONLY to try to cover up the fact that they were trying to steal my land, to sell my land, so my mother could by some fucking mansion in Kennebunk.
Well guess what… my son is buried on my land, He’s been buried there since November 2013, and it doesn’t matter that there is no house on my land, because my son’s there and I’m never selling it. And my mother and he Nick and Saco Ward and Atwater friends are bunch of fucking scum bags who don’t give a shit about anything but the damned fucking money they think they can get out of my land.
So, we have confirmation that yes, our mail IS being stolen from 146 Portland Ave. As you already know, we have not received mail since May 2022 and it is now March 2023, it's nearly a year. Post office has just been saying "we are short drivers" and has not looked into it... so we went over the heads of the local Old Orchard Beach post office and went to the distribution center, and told the state post master what was going on, they got in touch with our delivery driver, and he has delivered our mail every day, all year, and is baffled because the post office had not alerted him that we were not getting our mail. So, YES, if you live on Portland Ave, in Old Orchard Beach, and have not been receiving mail, and I know most of my neighbors are saying they've not gotten mail in weeks to months, as well, go to the Saco distribution center in the industrial park, and complain there, because tour driver IS delivering daily and has not been missing delivers... all missing mail from Portland Ave is stolen and you need to let them know what mail you have not received to they can get to the bottom of finding who is doing it.
So, while I was at the post office today, seeing how the post office is on the Cascade Road, out here in the Old Orchard Beach section of the Scarbourgh Marsh... I decided to check the family cross, see if the name Todd had been added, seeing how the vandals and shitard harassers can't stop gibbering Todd Murphey this and Todd Murphey that in my driveway, and nope... here it is, https://www.eelkat.com/images/cross.jpg as you can see the only two names are my cousin Timmy Murphy and my uncle Gordon Murphy. No Todd.
You know, I would recommend these shittards take their heads out of their asses, and drive through all the roads of the Scarbourough Marsh. Why?
This cross is one of the more then a hundred crosses in the marsh, which marks the locations of the one hundred and twenty people whom have been beheaded in a four mile radius since June 2001. This cross stand at the Ross Road x Cascade Rd intersection. The Cascade Road, as everyone who watches the local news is aware, is where bulk of the serial killer's attacks have occurred, which is why local news reporters have dubbed the entire case as "The Cascade Murders", officially know to law enforcement as "The Oulette Case".
If you start driving through all the side streets of the Scarbourgh Marsh, you will find there are 120 - one hundred and twenty - of these crosses, some with 5 or more names on them, each marking the location where the the person dubbed by locals as "The Portland Ave serial killer" has murdered 120+ people between June 2001 and February 2021.
For some odd reason, the Sanford Ward LDS church, a church only a 30 minute drive awa from the Scarborough Marsh, is so clueless about the local biome, that they seem to think the ONLY place the Scarborough Marsh exists is across the street from the church owned candy store Len Libby's Chocolates.
Do you recall how people like to dub my land "Etiole's Swamp"... do you know why they do that? Because my land is a literal swamp. It's a peat bog, with more sinking quicksand and 6 foot tall marsh grass, then solid ground. I live IN the Scarbough Marsh, as does EVERYONE on Portland Ave, Ross Road, Pine Point Road, Cascade Road, Walnut Street, East Grand Ave, West Grand Ave, Milliken Mills Rd, and more then 200 - two hundred - other streets in Old Orchard Beach, all of which are located inside the Scarborough Marsh.
The Marsh is not JUST in Scarborough, nor is it just that one quart mile stretch of road across from Len Libby's. The Marsh sits in two countries and five towns, and covers several thousand acres of land... and the Scarborough WalMart and the South Portland Main Mall, both site in the marsh, with both of those mega buildings building on a massive system of concrete pilings to keep them from sinking into the many acres of peat bog that site under each of those buildings.
But do take a drive on the above listed streets in Old Orchard, as well as the following ones in Pine Point: Pine Point Rd, Blue Point Rd, Black Point Rd, Dunstan Corner, Portland Rd aka Rt 1, Payne Rd, and all the little side streets off of each one. In Saco head to Heath St, Jenkins Rd, Flag Pond Rd (stop and see the very real pet cemetery where Stephen King's The Pet Cemetery movie was filmed while you are there), and all their side streets, yes those are in the Scarbourogh Marsh as well... and instead of just blindly driving through the Marsh on your way to work, slow down and start counting the crosses... big white crosses, little white crosses, unpainted wooden crosses, reflector covered orange crosses... see if you can find all one hundred and twenty crosses in the Scarbourogh Marsh... they sit in 5 towns, in 2 counties... and every one of them marks the location of someone who was beheaded by a still uncaught, still actively killing people, serial killer who has plagued the streets in the Portland Ave region of the Scarbough Marsh since June 2001.
But as you can see, it's Timmy Murphy who was beheaded on the Cascade Rd... not Todd Murphy... there's it's cross which has stood there since June 2013.
You know, if these harassers spent more time paying attention to what is going on around them, and less time being self absorbed jerks... they'd know these crosses were here... they'd know, Old Orchard Beach has a serial killer on the lose who has beheaded more then 120 people and left their bodies at cross road intersections all over the marsh... they'd know that this has been going on for 18 years now, and they'd know that my family had been hit by this madman multiple times now, fist killing my cousin Timmy Murphy, then killing my baby and leaving me not only crippled, but also one of only 5 people to live through and survive one of this serial killer's attacks, thus WHY the FBI is so hyper focused on not letting me out of their sight because this killer has a history of not leaving people alive... they'd know that SEVENTEEN families all within a quarter mile section of Portland Ave, between Walnut St and Milekin Miles Rd, 17 families in this space of street, have not only have their families murdered, but their houses bulldozed by a backhoe, and in just those 17 families, in addiction to the dead people, there are also more then FIVE HUNDRED dead pets, including cats, dogs, birds, and horses, every one of which was beheaded and the headless pet hung from rope nooses and draped in trees and porches of the 17 families... something the FBI says is a scene from a Stephen King book, which the serial killer likes to recreate... and then the FBI points out this: each of those 17 families has appeared in The Thinner movie... it's the one common thread for ALL 120+ Scarbourough Marsh killings: every sing victim has somehow been involved in the filming on one of the 14 Stephen King movies which was filmed in Saco, Old Orchard Beach, and Scarboughor back in the 1980s. According to the FBI, EVERY SINGLE ONE of these murders, animal killings, harassments, vandalisms, and hate crimes, can be found in a Stephen King book and this lunatic is recreating "art" in tribute to Stephen King, using the bodies of family members who were involved in the filming of Stephen King's oldest movies.
If these people in the Sanford Ward church would take their heads out of Joesph Smith's ass long enough to look around, they would have known these things were going on, that they were going on to people in their congregation, that several members of their congregation have stopped attended church because they were murdered, that several other members of their congregation no longer attend because like me they are crippled and bed ridden from these attacks, and that 24 members of their congregation no longer attend church because they are in prison for their connections and involvements in these murders.
Heck, these murders have been all over the TV and paper news for 18 years now... you'd think the people of the Saco and Sanford Ward LDS churches - who are the ones in my driveway bitch screaming about Todd Murphey for the past 2 years now - would at least have seen enough TV news or newspaper news... oh look, did you know one of the big name newscasters on TV, someone who has in fact covered the Scarbough Marsh case on TV several times now, is a member of the Sanfard Ward congregation, and even SHE knows what's going on, obviously because she's one of the reporters who keeps showing up to interview all us families who live in in the Scarborough Marsh... so I know not everyone in the Sandford Ward is clueless as to what has been going on in the community round them.... several of these church members are outright screaming, literally screaming from my neighbor's front porch in Biddeford, that they never heard of any of this before... I'm sorry... what the fuck?
The Scarbourough Marsh murders is quite literally the biggest unsolved murder case in all of New England, not just Maine, it's been covered by DateLine, 20/20 and half the crime network tv shows! The fucking planet has heard of it! These people are telling me, literally, while standing on my neighbors front porch and shrieking at the tops of their lungs, that they never heard of this murder case, a murder case I've not stopped talking about for the last 9 years because as of 9 years ago now members of my family have been murdered.. heck, with so many deaths now, it's pretty hard to find any family in the Scarbourough Marsh who DOESN'T have a dead relative killed by this nutjob... and these people, who vandalized our apartment building so bad that the landlord has a repair crew here all of this next upcoming summer... these vandals and hate fueled harassers from the Sandford Ward church, are telling me, that they had no clue any of this was going on?
And worse... y Atwater relatives... they keep showing up and ALSO saying they never heard of this... really? How? I know the FBI has been talking to them about it because they keep showing up in a rage yelling that the FBI was just at their house and it's all my fault and demanding I stop sending the FBI to their house... but I didn't send the FBI to their house, heck, I didn't even know they were related to me, as I never heard of them before they showed up to yell at me, so how the hell do they think I sent the FBI over there? What the fuck?
But also... what the fuck? Family members have been murdered and as far as I know, the FBI is trying to locate every relative to find out if they might have any information about a member of their family being murdered... I mean, if these people really are relatives, like they scream that they are when they are in my yard yelling at me, then, someone in my family being murdered IS ALSO someone in THEIR family being murdered.... and yeah, of course the law enforcement is going to go to every family member and ask for info, that's what law enforcement does, because, they just naturally assume that normal families help each other and WANT to solv a murder that happened in their family.
Which is something FBI Agent Andy Drewer pointed out to me, he said: "The Atware relatives of yours... they're pretty paranoid aren't they? I'm having trouble getting any of them to talk to me. Most slam the door in my face the minute I say I'm with the FBI. They act like they got something to hide. Looks mighty suspicious. Can you think of any reason why any of your uncles might want you dead?" That was the same day he pointed out that his five top suspects for the November 14, 2013 attack were my uncle Bruce, my aunt Barbara, my mother, my father, and Ben. He said he can prove they all knew about the golf club attack, and yet everyone of them is openingly, publicly denying any knowledge of it, and all five of them are doing their most public outspoken, over the top denying it in two places: The Saco Ward LDS Church and the Sandford Ward LDS Church.
And most disturbing of all is this: He says my father was having an affair with a woman named Claire back in the 1970s, and that my father and my mother and Claire and Claire's husband have been feuding since the late 1970s, a fued which goes on to this day... and... that on ALL of my mother's social media accounts, FaceBook, Twitter, Pinterest, everything, are two usernames that show up in her friends' lists: both with the same last name, one using the username Claire while posting a 4 door white truck as her user photo, and the other... wait for it... has the user name: KendraSilvermander".
Yep.
The FBI has found an actual person, a relative, in law of the Atwaters, who goes by the username KendraSilvermander.
Why is this significant?
The people who murdered my son at BugLight Light house art studio at Southern Maine Community College on November 14, 2013, was a blond woman whom the other two called "Claire", a red haired woman who was chanting: "I'm Kendra Silvermander It's my turn to shine, my turn to shine, my turn to shine! I'm Kendra Silvermander It's my turn to shine, my turn to shine, my turn to shine! I'm Kendra Silvermander It's my turn to shine, my turn to shine, my turn to shine! I'm Kendra Silvermander It's my turn to shine, my turn to shine, my turn to shine!..." like she was singing a song... both women looked to be in their 60s, and today a decade later, would now be in their mid-70ish, and were with a large bald man, about 30th, today would be about 40ish, and the 3 of them left in a 4 door white pickup truck.
The odd thing is, people don't talk about themselves in 3rd person limited, but, that's what the red haired woman was doing.... and I've seen her before... she showed up at Westbrook Panera 3 different occasions in 2009 and 2010 and in each of those instances also did the same marching goosestep around, back then carrying a white poodle wearing a purple dragon coat... while again saying "I'm Kendra Silvermander It's my turn to shine, my turn to shine, my turn to shine!" while also bragging that her father owned Saco FunTownSplashtown USA and having a psychotic meltdown screaming" My chair, my chair, my chair, my chair, my chair, my chair, my chair, my chair, my chair, my chair, mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIR!" Annalese, the woman sitting next to me, another published author, as thi was a NaNoWriMo writer's meeting, who was the NaNoWriMo Ml of Souther Maine, leaned over and whispered to me "That's Kendra Silvermander, she thinks she's he ML, we try to humor her. She can get rather violent if you don't."
Whoever this red haired woman is, she has a server, mega in need of medical care, mental disorder, appears to be incapable of functioning beyond the mental level of a two year old, and is quite proud of repeating her name as fast as an auctioneer. But, she speaks in 3rd person limited about herself, using us and ours and we to refer to herself, and uses the phrase: "I'm Kendra Silvermander It's my turn to shine, my turn to shine, my turn to shine!" as though it was a period at the end of every sentence. I don't know what sort of a mental disorder she has, but Annelese was right, this woman gets over the top violent, as we quickly saw at Westbrook Panera in 2009, when she started slamming her dog on the table while chanting "My chair", and then quickly lashed out at me, in a mega violent rage of throwing chairs. The restaurant had to drag her out and make her leave.
She repeated this at three different writer's meetings at the Westbrook Panera in 2009 and 2010.
She is the same woman who was ordering/leading/demanding the blond Claire woman's golf club attack at Southern Maine Community college November 14, 2013, murdering my baby and crippling me.
She returned for a 5th attack June 26, 2016, again with the bond Claire woman, this time at Scarborough WalMart, and this time attacking with a shopping cart, this being the attack that caused the inoperable 3 broken vertebrae and the organ and nerve damage which caused my current crippled stat. In this attack, yet again the red haired woman was chanting: "I'm Kendra Silvermander It's my turn to shine, my turn to shine, my turn to shine!" but this time the blond woman was shrieking: "That's EelKat, she tried to kill my husband. That thing is Ken's son, look at how IT's dressed! Kill or be killed! Remember Saco Shaws! No more heads in ice cream! End the gaypocalypse! Kill the transvestite freak! Too Gay for the Family Friendly Town of Old Orchard Beach!" This time instead of driving away in a 4 door white truck driven by a bald man, this time he two women were alone and drove away in a gold Volvo late 1990s vintage suv station wagon.
The usernames now showing up on my mother's social media, and the Atwater relative's social media is significant, because, according the these FBI agents.... those are the exact same Atwaters who are REFUSING to talk to the FBI, slamming the doors in the FBI agents faces, and also, are the most vocal on social media in spreading the alien/UFO/witchcraft/cat rumors about me. And the FBI believes they not only know who the golf club murderer is, they likely were involved in planning the November 14, 2013 attack... and every one of them has been seen with the Sanford Ward LDS Church members who are likewise the biggest defamatory gossipers, running around slandering my name with their lies about witchcraft/curses/aliens/ufos/and cats.
AND... on top of that... they ae the EXACT SAME Atwaters ans Sandford Ward church members whom have spent the last two years bombarding my Biddeford apartment with these same rumors while the vandalize the building, which the landlord now has to spend the summer repairing.
AND... these are the same people who are also claiming, they had no clue these murders were going on in the Scarborough Marsh.
Overall... these people who are denying the events of the Scarborough Marsh murders, while simaltaniously going overboard gibbering lies about me online, are really working overtime at making themselves look like they were involved in the November 14, 2013 murder of my son, and making themselves look tremendously guilty of not only knowing who the killier is, but trying to cover up for the killer, and attempting to gaslight me with their weird alien rumors, in an attempt to make people not see their connection to the killer, that they are trying so very blatently to hide and are only succeeding and shining a mega sized spotlight of suspision on themselves, leaving everyone who is watching them doing it to ask: What the fuck did they do, that they are trying to hide so damned bad, that they are going mega big time slanderfeat screaming about aliens and ufos all over social media, trying to convince people that I believe in aliens and ufos when there are 40+ years of documented evidance of me debuncking aliens and proving their ufo accusations to a be a hoax they created to cover their own asses over a drug raid from 1982? And now they are rearing up their alien accusations again, which again, I can prove to be a hoax, because... what are they trying to cover up THIS time? Last time they rolled out the alien accusations they were trying to blame literal toddlers for the 1982 drug raid, by saying that 4, 5, and 6 year old children saw aliens... 72 people were arrested in the 1982 drug raid... there were no aliens... if anyone was seeing aliens, it was the drug addicted having drug induced hallucinations... and yet, those same drug dealers, now out of prison, are once again pointing to aliens, this time because they are mad that the FBI showed up to ask if they knew anything about the murder of my son.
???
Can I ask, what the fuck does not real, fictional aliens they saw because of drugs, during a 1982 drug raid, what does that have to do with my son being murdered?
And are they really that retarded that they think I control the FBI and tell the FBI what to do? What the fuck? Them coming over here and screaming for me to stop sending the FBI to their house, when I didn’t even know these people were relatives, never heard of them before, and wouldn’t even have had a way t tell the FBI a blooming thing about them at all, just makes them look suspicious, because for one thing: who even are these people? I still don’t know who they are! And for another thing, why do they think I sent the FBI over to them? And again: who are they? There are over 400 Atwaters and I’ve only ever met 7 of them, I don’t know the names or faces of any of the others, I don’t even know all the names or faces of the original 12, so I can’t figure out how they’d think I would know the names or faces of any of the kids, grandkids, or great grandkids of the original 12. What the fuck?
How are the Atwaters so full of themselves that they think I would have one iota of a clue anything about them, when I’ve never met them and I don’t even know their names… and also… why would I care? Tell me that? Do you know any sane person who knows the names of their parents in-laws.
Yes… my parents in-laws… in-laws of in-laws… not even blood relatives, but the aunts, uncles, cousins, grandkids, and great grandkids of in laws of my parents’ in laws… who in their right mind would even know the names of such distant relatives…
You, reading this right now… can you name your parent’s cousins? Do you know the names of your mother’s uncle’s great grand kids? Do you?
Can you see how utterly stupidly ridiculous the Atwaters are being, when they show up here yelling and screaming, and expect that I should know who they are or what the fuck they are talking about:
Newsflash: normal people don’t live in 400 person large family herds.
Normal people don’t live in herds.
Normal people don’t swamp in shark style frenzies in the driveways of distant relatives of your great grand pappies 5th removed cousin of an in-law, either. What the actual fuck?
And on top of everything else, there are Awaters running around screaming that I am vandalising some grave… the grave of a distant relative whom I never heard of before, so I don’t even know where the grave is… when I’m here bedridden and crippled and not even capable of going to visit my own son’s grave because… oh look: I’m crippled and stuck in bed with a broken spine and severed spinal cord for the past nine years!
You know… if you are going to accuse someone of going somewhere to vandalize something, you might want to first make sure that person is not wheelchair bound, bedridden, and crippled for a decade with a broken spine, so unable to even get to the place you are accusing them of going!
Also… since the day my son was murdered, I have a camera running 24/7 so, it’s pretty foolish of you to lie about me when I can not only prove you are lying, I can also prove every time you’ve been screaming in my driveway, because I have you on camera. They didn’t think of that did they? Oh no, of course not, why would they? They were too busy thinking about those aliens and witches they can’t stop gibbering about.
But look at this cross... Do you remember Timmy Murphy? He was the 5 year old with curly black hair, who was also accused of aliens during that 1982 drug raid. They called us The White Monkey Children, because we found Helen Pearly's missing pet white monkey. And the people arrested during the 1982 drug raid, many of them Atwaters, pointed to that white monkey that had escaped from White Animal Farm, a zoo in Old Orchard at the time, they pointed to that white money and called it an alien. Helen Pearly, look her up, is the founder of the Scarbourgh Marsh preserve, an animal preserve that started out with one pet white monkey, and is today, many thousands of acres of protected land known by the name The Scarboughorgh Marsh.
Can you see NOW why the idiots screaming aliens are seen as so damned idiotic?
But can you also see the names on the cross?
https://www.eelkat.com/images/cross.jpg
There were 31 children involved in helping Helen Pearly capture her escaped pet white money.
Drive through the scarborough marsh looking at the names of the beheaded victims on those crosses... 29 of the 31 White Monkey Children are now dead, killed and tossed in the marsh, where 40 years ago, they helped little old lady look for her lost pet albino monkey.
Every one of them accused of being alien abductees; accusations which was screamed ONLY by the drug dealers and drug users of the 1982 drug raid, which took place in the Scarbourough Marsh.
The only people who accuse me of aliens are the people now out of prison, who went to prison because of the 1982 drug raid... a drug raid known to locals as "The 458 Shoot Out" due to one woman screaming "Four! Five! Eight!" in between each time she loaded up her shotgun.
Everybody that has shown up in the marsh since June 2001, has been either one of the now adult White Monkey Children, or one of their children or grandchildren.
EVERY - SINGLE - ONE.
Go to the marsh, look for the crosses. Read the names. My cousin Timmy Murphy's cross is not the only one and if you open your eyes and start looking at the side streets all through the marsh, you'll see one hundred and twenty of these crosses, some with 5 or more names on them. Crosses the entire country has seen on Dateline, 20/20, and dozens of unsolved crime shows... crosses that the Atwarers and their friends at the Sandford Ward church, are right now, this very week, posting all over social media, claiming aren't there, claiming I'm the only one talking about them, when clearly I'm not seeing hoe Dateline and 20/20 are pret big international news shows... and also claiming "Yeah EeelKat's crazy, she believes in aliens" when its extremely well documented my not believing in aliens and my debunking alien abductions as hoaxes... and these same people are also trying to convince people on social media "cats!".... but the cats were my mother's not mine, and my son was murdered November 14, 2013, two years before my mother's cat incident occurred.
These people are making total idiots of themselves, because all any one has to do is look up the new reports about the Scarbourough Marsh murders and the Cascade Murders to see that since June 2001, a LOT of people here in the marsh have been murdered, and originally they were not thought to b connected, but, now it is known that they are.
I wish these crazy ass Atwaters and their weird Todd Murphy obsessed Sanford Ward lunatics and their alien abduction ufo nuts, would leave me and my family alone. I don’t know what their problem is or why they are so obnoxiously hell bent on stalking my family and harassing us like this, but I am getting pretty damned sick of it. I have enough shit to deal with with, oh, I don’t know, half my family being murdered, my son’s killer still being on the loose, 9 years bedridden and still relearning to walk, … I don’t need these fucktards jumping into my life and trying to grab their 15 minutes of fame by tampering with the FBI’s investigation into hunting down my son’s murderer.
Know the truth. The truth will set you free.
(This page is NSFW)
(It contains info and novel excepts on how to describe penises, nipples, and scrotums)
Yes, this IS the page that Inspired Tom Addams To Create His Infamous WebSite:
Flamboyant Nipples & Wizard Testicles
Consider Yourself Warned
I found a question, that I thought would make for good inspiration for writing an article on how I write the character descriptions (or rather the distinctive lack there of) in the Quaraun series.
Do keep in mind that there are MANY ways to go about describing your characters, and I do not feel any one way is better than any other way, and in different series, I describe characters differently. I try to match character description techniques with the tone of the novel or short story in question, and this article, is here to take an in depth look at how I do it with the Quaraun series.
If you are a fan of the Quaraun series, you'll get to see how these characters get brought to life on the page and what goes into their creation.
If you are a writer looking for help on how to describe your own characters, know, that I do not say this is the CORRECT way to describe character, nor do I say it is the ONLY way to describe characters. This is simply how I describe MY characters, and it is what works for me in the series in question. You may find something here to help you figure out how to describe your characters or not.
I drive my readers batty with this. I keep getting emails asking "So, what exactly does Quaraun look like?"
All it ever says in the books is that he has silver-white hair that sweeps the floor, hypnotic blue eyes, he's shorter than most women, has the angelic features of an enthral beauty, and is mistaken for female, until he speaks and had a deep, distinctly male voice. I let the readers take it from there. However it is they envision an "enthral beauty" that's what he looks like. :P
And than, you get 7 to 10 pages of way to much detail of his clothes and his *couch* scars *cough*.
I sometimes think my scariest fans are the ones whom have reread the scenes of Quaraun's scars enough to the point they can describe them in detail... if you don't know, Quaraun's an unwilling eunuch, his genitals badly mutilated, and we're describing any part of him in detail, it's ALWAYS going to be because we are writing him monologue himself into a pity-party over his mutilated penis, and testicles, which is something he talks about constantly to and anyone and everyone who will listen, to him, while his sits in a tavern, drinking Absinthe (Green Fairy Wine) with LSD laced sugar cubes burned into it, washed down with Poppy Tea, while he smokes a hashish hookah.
Quaraun is the highest of the High Elves, and I'm far more likely to describe his emotions and feelings and sensory overloads, than I am to describe what he physically looks like.
Are there scenes that describe Quaraun's nose?
I can't think of any.
There are however scenes that mention his nose. Quite frequently actually, and if you know the series, you know why.
If you don't know the series well... Quaraun has 12 inch long, thin, pointed ears, which, normally are held down against his back, like a lop eared rabbit, hidden under his hair, and not noticeable.
Quaraun's ears are highly animated, and like fingers, he has quite a bit of control over moving them. You can tell his emotions by his ears. If he's calm and relaxed. his ears are not noticeable at all.
When startled, his ears go straight up over his head. When he's listening intently, his ears face forward. When scared, his ears face backward, and at a downward angle. When he feels threatened and starts growling and showing his sharp teeth, his ears go back at an angle.
Quaraun has an amazing sense of hearing, and can pick up on sounds up to a mile away. He can hear conversations spoken in houses down the street. Quaraun often prefers to live in isolated areas far from civilization, due to simply wanting peace and quiet.
Yes, I know, I'm talking about his ears, but this leads to his nose...
There are frequent descriptions of his ears changing movement as, this alerts the other characters to various dangers. Other character know to look to Quaraun's ears. And they don't have to see his hears to know they changed, they only have to listen...
Quaraun's nose.
Perhaps it is best, to just let you read a scene in which Quaraun's nose is in fact mentioned...
"Maybe map say we supposed to spend night in ruins?"
"Spend a night in ruins?"
"Aye."
"Let's keep walking," Quaraun said as he stood up, and went back to the road.
Unicorn followed him.
"Why for not stay in ruins?"
"Fresh ruins. With soot and ash..."
"Aye. Me forgetsing, me Elf can'na get dust on him perfectly pristine self."
“Why did you make this map?”
“Sos I never gets lost.”
“It never tells us anything useful.”
“Than why ya uses it?”
“I don't know, I...” Quaraun suddenly stopped walking.
Unicorn slammed into him.
"I wish ya would no stops like dat. Give me some warning before ya does dat."
"I heard something," Quaraun said nervously.
The Elf's eyes grew wide with fear, his long pointed ears pricked high and alert.
"Ya always hearing t'ings. Ya can hear a mile away wid those rabbit ears o'yars."
"No. I heard something."
"Dair ain't no t'ing out dair."
"There's always something out there."
"Aye. Frogs in trees. Birds in water. Fish in sky. Dair always be t'ings out dair. We does no have to panic over every one of dem, eh?"
"Yes we do."
"No we do'na."
"There's dangers around every corner."
"Aye. Un scared rabbity eared Elves waiting to runs from every one of dems."
Quaraun's long ears laid back fearfully.
"What was that?" He whispered.
"What were what?"
"Shut up."
Quaraun clamped his hand over Unicorn's mouth and perked up his long pointed ears to listen.
"I heard something."
Quaraun climbed up onto a log and continued to listen. His thin, pointed foot long ears twitched, nervously causing the chains connected back to his nose to shake and tinkle.
"Someone's hurt."
~From "The Summoner of Darkness" (Volume 11 of The Quaraun Series)
Quaraun has 24 earrings in each ear.
Quaraun has 3 nose rings, 1 in the center, and one in each side.
Each ring in his ear, has a tiny linked, delicate chain in it. Each chain, connects back to one of the rings in his nose.
Every few links of the chain has tiny pink watermelon tourmaline crystal points hanging from it.
Keeping in mind here that Quaraun is a priest and wears very distinctive robes and jewelry that are a part of his religion.
Quaraun is Persian and a transvestite. meaning he's dressed, not as a priest, but rather as a priestess. He wears very Muslim inspired clothes, including the fact that he wears a hijab style veil.
Quaraun is the only Elf member of his religion.
Quaraun's long ears make it difficult for him to wear the hijab style veiling properly. Thus you see him wearing these elaborate network of rings and chains, as a way to keep his face covered.
The jewelry acts as a veil.
MOST of Quaraun's face is obscured from view by of this massive network of jewelry. The chains act like veiling, with only his eyes and lips visible. The action of his ears constantly moving with his emotional, causes the crystal points and chains to make tinkling sounds when he moves his ears, thus this sound alerts his travelling companions to the fact that danger is near.
And thus you see the extent of descriptions of Quaraun's face, and why there are no descriptions of his face or his nose, seeing how neither can be seen.
But back to the OP we are answering...
We are being told, by someone who admits both to not being a reader and not being a writer, as well as being someone with no published books... we are being told by this person not to describe noses.
But as I stated in the beginning of this...I drive my readers batty with this. I keep getting emails asking "So, what exactly does Quaraun look like?"
These readers obviously DO want a description, otherwise wy would they ask for it?
This leaves me to wonder though...your advice to NOT describe... is it REALLY what readers want?
I mean, you are not a published author, so do you even know what readers want? You clearly are not telling us what YOUR readers want? You don't know from experience of writing for readers, what readers are looking for, soooo...
You know, this falls under the category of non-writers giving bad advice.
My question is:
What creditably do you have to be giving advice on how to describe a character?
You can't even give us examples of how you describe your own characters.
Look at the answers you've gotten here. Answers from writers. But not answers from either authors or readers. Have you checked te profiles of the people giving you these 100+ responses? Read their other comments and post throughout Reddit?
I did. And I recommend you do as well. Might be pretty eye opening.
A large percentage of the writers here (more than two thirds of them) openly admit several key factors:
And yet, here you have those very same people, who said those things, here telling you what you should or should not be doing when you write.
Do you REALLY want to take the advice of people who openly admitted elsewhere that they hate English classes, don't read, and think that the goal of publishing a book is stupid?
Think about it.
A lot of the advice being given on this sub is very bad and coming from people who are neither authors nor readers and are just trolling to see if they can get newbie writers who don't know any better to take their advice - some of them have said as much on other subs they are on.
Go look at their profiles and read the comments they made on other subs.
While there are writers here, most of them are unpublished, are not seeking publishing, and are taking out their ass when they give writing advice, most of it just something they heard someone else say and not anything they ever tried or tested for themselves.
This is not that bad. We all start somewhere. But if you've never published that, you don't know how to write a story that is good enough to be published, so you shouldn't be giving advice on writing, when you're NOT qualified to.
Again, not a bad thing. Not everyone writers to become published. The problem here is again, giving advice one is not qualified to give.
Okay, this one is just stupid. There is nothing wrong with publishing your work. There is nothing wrong with not publishing your work.
Uhm... oooo kaaaay... so why exactly are you on a writing forum giving writing advice when you hate writing?
Again... why are you on a writing forum giving writing advice when you hate writing?
I'm just gonna keep asking... why are you on a writing forum giving writing advice when you hate writing?
Yep... still asking... why are you on a writing forum giving writing advice when you hate writing?
Well, okay. That's fine, but it doesn't mean you have a clue how to teach writing.
And so you are teaching people to write books, why?
Not being published, means they also have no readers for their work, so they also have no clue what readers want.
Now sure every reader wants something different, but readers also tend to fall into groups. One genre will attract this type of reader while another genre attracts that other type of reader, and so on.
The goal is to find out what do YOUR readers want. And you can't do that until you know who your readers are, which until you are published and actually have readers, you'll never know.
Which means, any advice on "what readers want", that is given by any unpublished person, is null and void and should be completely ignored, unless that person is an avid reader telling "here's what I want to see more of and less of".
The problem with the bulk of the answers on this sub, is that many of it's most active members are neither readers nor writers and are just here to toss jokes around without giving any real or helpful advice. And I'm sorry to say, the trolls were out in full force on your thread tonight, which is why there are so very many answers on this thread, when most threads struggle to get even 4 or 5 answers. So I caution you to read the comments on this thread with a grain of salt as most of the comments were made by people who neither read nor write.
But back to your describe or don't describe point...
I say it depends on the genre and what readers want.
Different people like different things.
Some readers WANT the long descriptions.
Some readers want ZERO descriptions.
Some writers like writing descriptions over dialogue.
Some writers want to write only dialogue and no descriptions.
I say write what YOU WANT to read.
There is an audience for everything so it doesn't matter what you write or how you write it, there is going to be someone out there who wants it.
I have things I like to write. They are usually the same things I enjoy reading.
Some readers want lots of descriptions and others want no descriptions so that they can imagine the details themselves. And neither way is wrong. Each simply caters to a different audience is all.
Like I said at the beginning here, for most things, I drive my readers batty with the lack of detail. I write Epic Length Grimdark High Fantasy Bizarro Yaoi Absurdism in a Literary Slice of Life Style, using the Ernest Hemingway format. Which means the stories are:
That's why I keep getting emails asking "So, what exactly does Quaraun look like?"
All it ever says in the books is that he has silver-white hair that sweeps the floor, hypnotic blue eyes, and the angelic features of an enthral beauty. I let the readers take it from there. However it is they envision an "enthral beauty" that's what he looks like. :P
The funny thing is, the stuff I do describe, I go overboard with... GhoulSpawn's legs for example.
Raise your hand if you ever read a Quaraun novel and wanted me to stop describing GhoulSpawn's legs but the description infodump over his legs just kept going and going and going and going and... 10 or 12 pages later you were wondering when the story was going to start back up and when the author was going to stop gushing fangirl love over men with 8 inch long Cotswold sheep wool growing on their cloven hooved legs.
And if you didn't know GhoulSpawn was a sheep, well, what the hell were you reading when you thought you were reading the Quaraun series?
I mean, there IS a scene of Quaraun sheering GhoulSpawn and spinning his wool into thread, so he can embroider pink silk with GhoulSpawn's soft white wool.
Yeah.
Two of the only 4 books to feature a picture of Quaraun on the cover.
Every time Quaraun walks into a new town, a new tavern, a new place, he's greeted by people in shock and awe over what he looks like. Readers know immediately that this guy stands out. He doesn't look like your average Joe.
People stop and stare when he walks by.
Every one, men and women alike want to bed with him. There are scenes where women literally throw themselves at his feet while saying: "You are the most beautiful man I've ever seen, I want to have your baby."
Quaraun is described as being the single most beautiful man on the planet.
But beyond telling you he has blue eyes and insanely long silvery-white hair that in later novels drags on the ground, you are not told what exactly he looks like.
This was done deliberately to allow readers to very simply imagine him in whatever what they imaging the ultimate beauty to look like.
Every reader has a different idea of what a hypnotically beautiful man looks like.
Quaraun is also a man, who is difficult to live with, and most people who meet him, are soon greeted with his sharp tongue, rude manners, his arrogant ego, and his overbearing vanity.
Few can tolerate his company, or his whiny hissy fits and bitch fests.
He is selfish, crude, lewd, and expects everyone to wait on him hand and foot.
Quaraun has a beautiful body and an ugly personality.
He's also a serial killer.
The woman who was throwing herself at his feet begging to have his baby? He'll just as easily fuck her on one page then cut her head off on the next. Keep in mind, he is asexual and normally won't have sex with anyone, but piss him off and he won't think twice about raping you. Why? Because he hates sex and sees sex and the worst thing you can do to a person. He views sex as worse than death penalty, so he'll use sex to punish you.
When you get to know Quaraun, you realize, he is a dark, twisted person and his beauty is only skin deep.
I find it more effective, to simply describe him as being beautiful beyond belief, no physical description, show the townsfolk reacting to seeing him, let the reader draw their own conclusions as to what defines beauty on that level, and then let the reader see his personality, his bitterness, his bad attitude, his hostility, his uncaringly nature.
To me, his personality is far more important then describing his physical features. So you get LOTS of descriptions of his bitchy personality. Likewise with candy maker BoomFuzzy, you get lots of descriptions of the scents that waft around him and his perverted nature, but other than his claws and his dreadlocks, very few physical descriptions of him.
Here is the scene that introduces BoomFuzzy. Which also introduces Quaraun, as you will see, by interweaving Quaraun's actions and thoughts, with him total unawareness of his surroundings, because of being too aware of one thing: his wet shoes.
The scene that introduces BoomFuzzy for the first time, as King Gwallmaic:
He could not remember dates or histories or equations or calculations. Philosophies, theologies, and politics were too deep for him to understand. He complained that music hurt his ears.
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, and concluded that Quaraun was just too stupid to be taught. Something was desperately wrong with his brain.
Quaraun was savant. He had things could do, and those things, he did very well. But everything, moved through his 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, than embroider into the cloth.
They later discovered the young Elf had a talent for glasswork as well. He took to making his own glass beads, so they taught him, colour magic, and the magic of prayer beads.
Before long, Quaraun progressed from making tiny color blown glass beads, to also making tiny colour blown glass bottles. And these, the Di'Jinn taught Quaraun how to capture Gennie's 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 genies 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 was prone to forget many things.
He often forgot things only a few hours after they had happened.
It had been at least 70 years since he had last been to 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 harbour seals.
And polar bears.
And snow.
And ice.
And blustery winds.
And snow.
And ice.
And more snow.
"Why is there so much snow?"
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 had forgotten 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 as 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, simply because Humans in Europe refused to believe anything existed on the West side of the Atlantic Ocean.
Quaraun had been born in Ivujivik.
He had family 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 any 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 had loved him.
His father had 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 had 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 good - it was not. Weather was very bad. Longer if weather was bad - which it was. 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 erecting. 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 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 had had servants to brush his hair for him.
It took them 3 hours every morning to brush the Elf's mind-bogglingly 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 was 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 superstituise.
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 a 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 sit 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 absent-mindedly 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 have beautiful hair. Probably the most beautiful hair of any one. 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 where 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 every one else's hair.
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 meeting 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 superstious 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 hair longer than Quaraun's. It looked short, because it was dreadlocked. But every knows a brain is only one third the legnth of it's 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 it's pure feralness.
Huge masses of untamed dreadlocks.
Quaraun's lust for The Elf Eater burned uncontrollable, from the 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 finger 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 woolen dreadlocks. Huge dreadlocks that reached nearly to the ground, and were woven full if bones nd 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 and 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, than 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 were 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 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 gleaming silver horn, and a long black mane, many decades ago braided and left unbrushed, now flowing in wild dreadlocks down to the horse' hooves.
No, Quaraun was too busy looking down as 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 precisly 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 sentances with the deadly phrase: "I wish."
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.
Quaraun was a Psion capable of hypnotizing entire cities into being his thralls, and thus had been able to take control of every mind if he wanted. But he didn't want. What he wanted was a warm bed to slee in. And The Elf Eater. Quaraun sat in the snow, think how nice it would be, to be The Elf Eater's lover. To feel the warmth of The Elf Eater's body. To touch The Elf Eater's hair. To feel...
Quaraun shook the thoughts 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 Elfer 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.
As 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. He had to take his mind off the snow. Off the cold. He was freezing to death, sitting in the snow, too cold to see the Faeries moving in gathering around him.
There were many, many, MANY advantages of being a wizard who flagrantly flaunted his lack of obeying the law.
Quaraun needed to rest. He need to get warm again. He folded his hands over hs chest, 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.
Warm thoughts.
A peaceful, contented serenity that Quaraun rarely felt these days, 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 mold.
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 slush of winter and filling creeks, brooks, and rivers full of glorious, brown mud, cascading into the ocean estuary.
To be at one with nature.
To hear the birds chirp.
The tadpoles sing.
The warm embrace of mother's ever loving tentacles.
Warm, slithering, slimy, squishy thoughts of swimming in 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.
Desperate.
Devouring.
Fighting,
Killing.
The massaquere of 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.
He had been thinking Elven thoughts.
Thoughts of nature.
Thoughts of spring.
And suddenly, thoughts warm comfortingiing thoughts were encroached upon by madness.
Pure, glorious madness.
He crazed it.
He lusted for it.
And the fight to survive against all odds. The lust for brains. The supsouse, juicy goodness, the delicate flavour...
Quaraun stood up suddenly. His foot long ears alert, high over his head, stiff with fear. His eyes darting quickly to and for, glancing around the darkness of night, in search of the source of these thoughts.
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 then to watch his victims die horrible death 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. The Elven villagers 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.
Rumours said Quaraun 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.
Permanently.
Supposedly.
Liches are immortal.
They can not be killed.
A Lich once killed, will reawaken 100 years from it's 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 indefinably.
In truth, Quaraun had never killed a Lich. He had once met a Lich, he had been unaware the Lich was a Lich, so had no knowledge of his having encountered said Lich.
But, people will believe gossip, lies, slander, and rumors, 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 ones: The Moon Elves.
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 seven 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 snows 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 tent with him, in his bad 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 galloped past him. His long silver hair whipped around his face and shoulders along with the ice crystals and chunks of snow 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 it's hands were huge claws, sharp enough to lop off a man's head in a single swipe.
It's teeth were fearsome, protruding like razors out of it's mouth, and long gazelle-like horns on it's 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 it's head, but as the creature approached, the horse and the beast both melted away, leaving behind only a small dark skinned man, now somewhat Human looking, 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, close enough to lick the Elf's ear.
"Ah! My saviour! We meet again!"
"Again? Have we meet 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.”
“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 a 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 hae. Ya just do'na knows it. I be shape shifter."
"You're a Phooka."
"Aye. I be anyt'ing. Anyone. Any thing 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 ting 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 any one 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 tinking, 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 it's 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 then 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 squeezeing 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 Rumors. King Gwallmaiic had a reputation for seducing Elves, than 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 Dark Fae, Dark Elves, Blood Elves, Beasts, Monsters, and undead creatures, which 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, than 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 than 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.
Worst Faeries of all.
And this was no meer 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.
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 then 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.
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 llil 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 pondering 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 of 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~
Quaraun made it back to his village without further incident, but when he arrived, his father was less then 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 then 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 de Dark Elf who stayed close to the King.
“I want him in me army.”
“The pink sissy?”
“Aye.”
“That Elf's no fighter.”
“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. “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. How come for dontcha use it, before ya lose it de same way him gone un lost his?”
“You're not being clear, Sire.”
“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 then 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."
From: BoomFuzzy
And in the next chapter, introduces him again, as BoomFuzzy:
“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 accidently create some evil half-Elves. You know what my father is like."
"Uhm... how do you fall into bed and accidently 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. One 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.
Decieved.
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 twinkleed 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...”
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 ting to touch, sniffs dat which smell not as it is, what hears tings 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 back 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.
“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 live on dresses. Birds. Hearts. JellyFish..."
"JellyFish?"
"Yes."
"Why JellyFish?"
"I like JellyFish. They are my favorite 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 ting yis good at, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Be dat ya own lack of self-confidence talking or is it dey bully ya to tinks 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 it's 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 meer 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 then 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 tings 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 wurds were? How ye wurded 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 it's wounded branch. As he ate the fruit, blood gushed from it's 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 valley around it.
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 faddah 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 then 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 think, 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.
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 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 pupiless black eyes which Quaraun knew so well.
The little black pony from desert of the Di'Jinn.
My unicorn.
BoomFuzzy.
Quaraun had seen the pony dozens of times throughout his life time. 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 it's 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 then 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 wat 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.
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-glimmoured 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 tink 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 svá mentioned Phookas and eating ye faddah. 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 forth 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 then 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 flavor 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 tinking 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 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 any one."
“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 tink it does does it not? Strange lil brain ya got. Ya does no remember much from one day to de next do ya?”
“Quaraun?” BeLuna 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 tak wi 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."
Quaraun was trying to remember through the clouds of apricots that were fogging his brain. Part of him was remembering 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. 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."
“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 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 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 tink 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 affect on 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 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."
“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 faddah, 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 judgement 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 then 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 then 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 ub 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 faddah?”
“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? Oh, I t’inks I is gonna like ya a lot."
“I've been passing for female for several years. 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. 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."
From: BoomFuzzy
You can see how the description of BoomFizzy, what he looks like, his personality, his backstory, are woven in both to the narative and the dialogue and is PART OF the story itself, rather than a lone info dump in a single paragraph, as is commonly seen in most novels.
You see it a lot in the Quaraun series where, I don't use physical descriptions to tell you what the character looks like, but rather use character actions, thoughts, and emotions to describe the character's personality instead. In the Quaraun series, it is the characters' emotional states that are more important than what the characters actually look like.
Let's take for example 2 different scenes from Kelim and the Necromancer, where Quaraun is alone. He's not yet been reunited with Unicorn (BoomFuzzy) and he's not yet met GhoulSpawn. This is also when Quaraun is first starting to realize, something is terribly wrong with his health, and he doesn't know what to do about it.
In these 2 scenes, Quaraun is 750 years old, he's lived alone since BoomFuzzy commit suicide 300 years earlier. He's had no trouble living alone and taking care of himself, but, he now has Alzheimer's and in aware he has it, but he is aware something is seriously wrong.
Quaraun travels to a volcano, seeking a dragon, but when he gets there, while traversing an underground cave, he stops to take a nap, and... here's what happens, when he wakes:(Note, the entire chapter is one long monologue of Quaraun talking to himself, thus the 1st person PoV here, when usually you see 3rd person)
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? 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 rocklike. It hurts. It hurts so bad.
Stiff.
Uncomfortable.
It is 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.
Dirt.
A road?
Am I sitting in the middle of the road?
Why am I sitting in the middle of the road?
How did I get in the middle of the road?
What happened? Where am I?
What has transpired? 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 gray. Foggy. With bursts of colour exploding inside my skull.
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?
Have I been buried alive? Did you bury me alive? Entombed beneath the earth.
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.
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. Why is there so much dirt!
Where is the grass? I can’t see. I have dirt all over my hands. Why can’t I find any grass? 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.
Feel the dirt, rocks, 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. 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 foliage. No hedges. No shrubberies. No thickets. No briers. No bushes. No grains.
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 underbrush. 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.
Just godforsaken dirt.
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?
Leaned on something.
On what?
A wall?
Are you a wall?
Am I inside? Why is there so much dirt inside? It feels like a road, all packed in and traveled on. Busy, busy, like on the highway. No. This is not a highway. I’m not outside. I’m inside. In...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?
How did I get here?
You’re a vertical surface. You can help me up. I won’t have to crawl around groveling in the dirt anymore. 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.
Through the darkness, for anything that might reveal to me where I am.
Piling.
Scaffolding.
Plank.
Joist.
Pillar.
Rough.
Old.
Crumbling.
Decayed.
Decomposed.
Moldered.
Rotted.
It will collapse.
This whole place will fall in on me.
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’s 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?
The shades of stone, dirt and rot from the huge wooden posts hanging from the walls are my pearls. I need to get out of here.
The beams felt like scaffolding for mine shafts.
I can’t find out for certain in the darkness.
Have I stumbled into a mine shaft?
Did I discover a mine by accident?
I do not remember.
It concerns me greatly that I can not remember in what way or manner I arrived at this place. 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? O! 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 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.
Timeworn 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 silk. I should take some with me, but I've no way to carry any.
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 bore resemblance to a mine shaft.
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?
And what was that sound?
I'm wandering in blindness.
Inching ahead, ever so slowly.
Deliberately.
Reaching out.
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 dirt. I love the smell of dirt. I just hate how badly it soils my clothes. 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 my fingers on the earth wall as a guide, I pursued the passage, hoping to find an exit. Or at the very least, a light. Who knew what was lurking in the darkness with me? Beasts. Monsters. Bandits. There could be dangers lurking all around me. I’d not know to run.
I need to listen. For danger. I must take notice of every sound. 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 wen 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. I have no one. BoomFuzzy's dead. He killed himself. Because I killed Gibedon. I shouldn't have killed Gibedon. Why did he have to die? I never should have killed him. 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. 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. 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.
As you can see, he has completely forgotten that he went there himself AND he has also forgotten that he is carrying a lamp on his belt and so he never light's it.
Elsewhere in the same novel, we see Quaraun, has just killed a woman and has started drinking to try to forget it, but, Elves don't get drunk the same way Humans do, and we see this scene which again, described Quaraun's personality, not what he looks like:
Quaraun stumbled across the apartment. His strides were swift and determined. Or as precipitous and controlled as he could compel them to act. He’d enjoyed a few bottles too much green Fairy wine to drink, and he knew it, but he couldn’t oblige anybody else to notice it. No. He wasn’t supposed to be out drinking this evening. Not tonight. Tomorrow is a considerably important day.
Consistent.
Stable.
Calm.
Steady. He must walk steady. And consistently natural. And calmly stable.
Balanced.
Balanced is more advisable than stable.
Yes.
Balancing was desirable.
And upright.
Upright was important. It would do no good to make attempts to walk if one was not standing upright beforehand.
Quaraun wondered if he was standing upright or not. The determination in his steps became his immediate focus. Quaraun kept an eye on his feet to make certain they were moving in the correct places. He couldn’t discern if they were or not.
Must walk steady. Mustn’t let anyone notice. Must... Must...
Thunder boomed outside.
Lightning flashed.
The momentary manifestation of blinding luminescence infiltrated the room with its purple haze before melting away and surrendering the chamber back into the blackness of night.
Wait...who is that?
The instant burst of light lasted scarcely long enough to imbue the lodging with intense light.
There was a man in the corridor. Standing just outside the door. Looking in. Staring at Quaraun. Watching. Waiting.
How’d he got there?
Wasn’t the door bolted?
Quaraun walked closer to the door.
Cautiously.
Carefully.
Slowly.
Guardedly.
“Who are you?” Quaraun called out.
No answer.
Silence.
Quaraun stumbled, but hastily caught himself.
Can’t collapse.
Couldn’t let this fellow think he was drunk, either.
He squinted his eyes. Straining to see through the darkness.
Hoping for the lightning to flash again.
There was a man in the doorway.
A man. Where there shouldn’t be one.
“Who are you?” Quaraun called out again.
Nothing.
The man stood in the doorway.
Watching.
Staring.
Silent.
He didn’t move.
He didn't speak.
Might be one of his friends.
No.
They shouldn't be here.
They couldn't be here.
They were dead.
But who knows?
Maybe...
No...
Couldn't be...
Quaraun opened his eyes. A glowing purple unicorn was standing over him. A glittering gold sheep was kneeling beside him. They were both talking but he couldn't hear them. Quaraun's vision blurred and doubled, than went in and out of focus a few times. The muffled sounds of his friends’ voices bounced around like a rubber ball inside his head. He tried to focus on one voice, one sound, straining to hear who was talking and what they said. Finally his vision became clearer and the sounds became less garbled.
"You okay?" the glittering gold sheep asked.
"Who was the man in the doorway?" Quaraun asked, not answering the glittering gold sheep's question.
"What man?"
"That man!" Quaraun sat up and pointed towards the door.
Wait.
He wasn't there.
The man was gone.
Quaraun looked around.
The sun was up. It was daytime.
Night was gone. It had slunk away to the shadows, to hide for another day. Fleeing from the sun's warm embrace. Waiting for sunset to come and free it back into the world again.
"There was a man there," Quaraun said to no one in particular. "Where did he go? Did you see him?"
"No," The glowing purple unicorn answered. "Only thing we seen was you passed out on the floor."
A knocking, rapted quickly.
Than silence.
Waiting.
Than the knocking came again.
Louder.
Again.
Louder still.
Quaraun opened his eyes.
He looked around the room.
"Where am I?"
He was sitting at a large wooden table.
It was a small room.
Quaint.
The glittering gold sheep and the glowing purple unicorn were both gone. They had never been there.
Quaraun nervously twisted his hands around the long thin neck of the green glass wine bottle he was clutching.
"I need to either stop drinking Fairy wine, or drink so much of it I never wake up out of it's embrace. How did I get here?"
Quaraun tried to focus his eyes through the semi-drunk blur, he was still drifting in and out of.
Lots of wooden shelves lined the walls.
Some shelves were jam packed full of ancient leather bound books.
Other shelves were littered for various assorted glass jars, coloured glass bottles, clay pots, and various brick a brack.
Bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters.
"Ah! The Swamp Hag's house. Forgot I was here." He paused, suddenly remembering why he was here. "Oh dear. I'm running out of leads."
Quaraun glanced down at the dishevelled lifeless body of the Swamp Hag on the floor behind him. Her blood was pooling on the wooden planks.
His attention was brought back to the sound which had awoken hm. The knocking sound thudded, dully through the house again.
He turned back to he front of the building.
"Damn. Someone's at your door. I suppose we should answer it. You certainly can't."
Quaraun pushed his chair back from the table, stood up, picked up the Swamp Hag's head and stuffed it into the pink beaded heart shaped bag of holding on his hip.
>>My characters always start my works by looking in the mirror, studying each feature, and categorizing their features at length. Isn't that what people do in the real world?
LOL! I once had Quaraun do this, just to poke fun at the books who did it. He spends 4 pages, raving and ranting over how his corset won't fit right, then starts describing what he looks like, for no reason at all. Another character, Unicorn, comes over carrying another mirror and starts helping him describe everything. A 3rd character walks in and asks them what the hell they are doing. None of them knows. It's hysterical, because it doesn't fit the rest of the story at all.
It's not in the beginning of the book either, it's 200 pages into a 500 page novel.
I wrote it after a reader pointed out that every few chapters of every novel, Quaraun is constantly pulling his mirror out of his bag and fussing over his hair and make up, but not once in any of the several hundred scenes of Quaraun looking in a mirror does he ever describe himself while doing so, nor does the narrator describe him, and they wondered WHY, when every other author has their character talking to themself and describing what they look like while looking in a mirror.
Well, yeah, Quaraun is vain and arrogant and he puts what he looks like first and foremost over everything, he goes narcissism to the extreme, so he is always in front of a mirror every chance he can get. But, I do try to keep my character realistic, and, think about it, when was the last time YOU stood in front of the mirror and said: "Damn are my blue eyes gorgeous! I love my long this nose..."
I HATE it when authors stand the character in front of the mirror and have them talk about what they look like. No one does that.
Yes, vain people constantly look in the mirror, but they don't describe themselves while doing it. They talk about: "Oh my god! My mascara is smudged! I have to fix it!"
The worst part of authors writing characters describing themselves in the mirror is they do it with EVERY character, even characters who no logical reason to even own a mirror.
A mirror is a large expensive, luxury item, that only a very wealthy person is going to own. They are not common every day items. So it's utterly ridiculous to see every author, of every novel, write every character describing themselves in the mirror. And it's even MORE ridiculous when you write historical fiction that is pre-1920s, when mirrors were only owned by the ultra mega wealthy. Go make to the 1600s when only royalty had mirrors, and it's even more ridiculous.
But the fact remains, even in today's society, mirrors are relatively rare. Most houses have one over the sink in the bathroom and that's it. Wealthy families may have one over a dresser in the bed room. Only the super wealthy can afford to buy a full length mirror. They ain't cheap. And the only time you see a mirror in public is in some fancy law firm or super fancy hotel that caters to millionaires.
No one in real life carries a mirror on them.
It's so utterly beyond stupid to see every character in every novel, able to find a mirror no matter where they are, just so they can stand there and tell the reader what they look like.
Worst of all, is when it's done by characters who are supposedly meek, humble, or religious. The bulk of Christian religions forbid the owning of mirrors, and it's a red flag when the author says the character is such&such religion, and the reader is that religion, and the author clearly didn't know that religion forbid the owning of mirrors, and now here's the character supposedly a part of that religion and describing themselves while looking in a mirror!
The ONLY time it is logical for a character to be describing themselves in the mirror is if they are and incredibly self centered, mega vain character, who is stopping to look in the mirror multiple times a day.
In Quaraun's case, he IS mega vain and he DOES, look in the mirror every few minutes. And he owns several mirrors because he can afford them. Quaraun is a billionaire. His wealth is something akin to Scrooge McDuck's. He's an Emperor. That fact isn't brought up very often, because he's the last of his kind, his people all died, so he's a king with no kingdom now, but, before his people died he was exhorbantly wealthy and mega pampered. He has a bag of holding that contains EVERYTHING he owned from his palace, so, he's not as poor as he seems to strangers, and in fact he can and does buy anything he wants. Including lots of mirrors because he's mega vain.
But even being vain, wealthy, and looking in a mirror every few pages, you never see Quaraun describe what he looks like.
But when it comes to actually describing Quaraun, it usually is a pretty big info dump, that is written from the point of view of a character whom has never seen him before and is describing him in their mind. As can be seen in Kelim and The Necromancer when Kelim meets Quaraun face to face for the first time:... be warned... it takes an entire chapter to describe Quaraun completely, intermingled with dialogue, so here is, in it's entirety, this very long chapter:
Kelim knew where the house was.
All the kids did.
He’d 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. 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 unearthly, shimmering prismatic, somewhat phosphorescent skin of the pink robed Elf terrified Kelim. He 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, he would have known that what he was talking for 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.
Quaraun had been a Moon Elf, many, many centuries ago. But now Quaraun was dead, and his hollowed out body was the skin of 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.
The Moon Elves had died out 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 thought of as a dead language even when there were still Moon Elves alive.
Quaraun had had to learn the many varied languages of the Humans, the lesser Elf races, and other nonElven races in order to communicate with them. There was no one to speak his native tongue.
The Moon Elf language was as dead as Latin which was why the poor Moon Elf had taken up the bad habit of talking to himself, in order to keep from forgetting how to speak his native tongue.
Unfortunately for Quaraun, what he did not realize is that he long ago had stopped 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, the Thullids being aliens from a far distance galaxy who's ship had crash landed on Earth centuries ago.
The Thullid language was made up of a lot of 'L's, 'T's, 'X's, and 'I's and not many other letters, and consisted of very snake-like, slithering hissing sounds.
The language was spoken very fast and often intermingled with screams, and shrieks, that actually were words, but sounded to Humans like screaming and shrieking.
Quaraun, in his eye-popping pink beaded gowns, walking in circles, screaming and shrieking to himself in a language that sounded nothing like a language at all, terrified most people.
Quaraun was right now, muttering to himself, in a hissing snake-like accent that terrified the little Pixie who stood trembling before him right now.
Quaraun rarely spoke to anyone, as he was often too busy having conversations with himself to notice there was anyone around to talk to.
He did not like being interrupted.
Kelim had interrupted him.
He immediately decided he did not like 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 decided 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 talking to himself in the Thullid language, heard nothing but a lot of wild rambling gibberish that didn't sound anything 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 that Quaraun was no longer an Elf at all, but rather 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 they're closet 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.
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 any more.
Quaraun 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 it's own brain.
Quaraun the Elf had died centuries ago, at the young age of only 9 years old, and all that remained was the empty husk that was 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 living in his empty skull.
Looking into Quaraun's emotionless dead eyes, Kelim knew something was definitly 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 body had become the home of an alien sea creature.
Quaraun had become someone else.
He had become 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, them implant a larvae into his brain. The weeks and months of agony that would have followed as the larvae feed off the poor Elf's brain, while rooting it's spidering tentacles throughout his body, replacing his nerves with it's 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 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, was unable to 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 robes.
A Moon Elf with elaborately embroidered and beaded designs of hearts, roses, flowers, and jellyfish all over his furisode kimono and corsets 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 didn’t say anything 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 meet 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, indicating he was unconcerned by either who or what Kelim was, and barring the entrance to him 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.
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 heavily soaked with more blood. Bloody streaks and swirls were left of the ground as the Elf's skirts swept the floor.
"I'm sorry...you look...uhm...I thought you was 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 of 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 in all likelihood, far more dangerous than Finderu the Masked.
Kelim felt faint.
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.
Kelim was mesmerized by the ears.
And the rings.
And the chains.
And the charms.
Quaraun had 24 earrings in each ear.
And 3 nose rings, 1 in the center, and one in each side.
Each ring in his ear, has a tiny linked, delicate chain in it. Each chain, connected back to one of the rings 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 jewelry that are a part of his religion.
Though born in Quebec, Quaraun was raised in by Persian priests. Quaraun was also a transvestite. No. Not transgender. They are different. Quaraun made no attempt to be female. In fact, Quaraun hated females and wanted nothing to do with them. But he also had a deep distaste for male fashions. He found the bulk of male garb to be not only hideous to look at but uncomfortable to wear.
Quaraun often found himself dismayed by people saying certain fashions could only be worn by men, while other fashions could only be worn by women. And so Quaraun wore whatever he pleased, whenever he pleased, regardless of the gender the fashion was intended for.
Quaraun had both a love for pink and glitter, as well as a love for long flowing robes, sari, kimono, caftan, veils, and hijab. In love with the flowing many layered outfits wore by the Islamic women in the Persian villages he had grown up in, Quaraun had taken to dressing like them while he was still a young boy and continued to do so, for the rest of his life.
Thus Quaraun dressed, not as a priest, but rather as a priestess. Wearing very Muslim inspired clothes, including a hijab style veil.
Quaraun is the only Elf member of his religion. And was one of only two known priest still alive. The Di'Jinn were all dead, save Quaraun and ZooLock. But Kelim knew none of this. 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 rumors 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 jewelry acted as a veil, exactly as Quaraun intended it to do.
Most of Quaraun's face was obscured from view by of this massive network of jewelry. 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 beginning to annoy 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. It was staring at him too much, for too long. It was making 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 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.
Kelim was suddenly struck by how much taller than himself the Necromancer was, and how very short he suddenly felt standing in front of Quaraun.
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 jewelry acted as a veil, exactly as Quaraun intended it to do.
Most of Quaraun's face was obscured from view by of this massive network of jewelry. 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 beginning to annoy 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. It was staring at him too much, for too long. It was making 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 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.
Kelim was suddenly struck by how much taller than himself the Necromancer was, and how very short he suddenly felt standing in front of Quaraun.
Kelim felt as though he was closing up like a telescope growing smaller and smaller the more the Necromancer stared at him.
"You're uhm... I... uhm ... “
“I’m busy and you’re interrupting me, that’s what I am.”
“I ... you're uhm..."
"Spit it out, I haven't got all day."
"You're... you're... what are you?"
"Which what am I are you referring to? My being an Elf? Or my being a transvestite?"
"Uhm..."
"Doesn't matter. Either one, I don't like you talking about."
"Okay. Uhm..."
"You don't get many words out do you?"
"Uhm... I... no..."
“You’re a Pixie.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t you know?”
“I...”
"Xandit Winsnot the Goblin sent you didn't he?"
"Uhm, yeah, kind of..."
"Kind of? Either he did, or he didn't."
"Well..."
"You are Kelim?"
"Yes... I..."
"You're in love with Finderu's daughter."
"Yeah... uhm... sort of..."
"Don't waste my time, Boy, what do you want from me?"
"Well... I... uhm... I... well...I... I thought... you know... that... uhm... maybe... people are saying you... I was just thinking... you know..."
"Spit it out, Boy, I haven't got all day. I am rather busy and I do hate being bothered, especially by Faeries. Faeries are so annoying. I can't stand them, they're nothing but trouble, every last one of them."
The Necromancer sounded increasingly more and more annoyed, which frightened Kelim even farther.
"People around the village are saying you grant wishes and stuff for people who desperately need your help," Kelim said, now speaking as fast as an auctioneer, "I guess I just came to find out if it was true."
"Grant wishes? What am I, a Leprechaun? I don't grant wishes."
"They say you lived with the Di'Jinn and you got powers like a...like...a..."
"I am a Wizard of the Di'Jinn Order. We are the masters of magic. The most powerful Wizards in the world. None compare to us, not in power or skill.”
“Aren’t the Di’Jinn all dead?”
“Yes. I killed them. I’m the last one.”
“But you can’t grant wishes?”
“That we are capable of making the impossible possible is not wish granting, it's us doing our jobs. You want to call it granted wishes, so be it. What is you damned wish?"
"I... uhm... how many wishes do... uhm... we... I... get?"
"How many wishes?"
"Uhm... er..."
"You certainly have trouble talking don't you?"
"Can I have three wishes?"
"What do you think I am? A genie in a bottle?"
"Uhhhh...."
"You can have a many wishes as you can afford. But I'm not cheap. Not many people can afford me."
"I have to pay you?"
"What? Do you think I just hand out magic potions for free?"
"I... uhm... I never thought about it."
"No one ever does. Everyone expects us Wizards to be making spell and crafting magic items. No one ever wants to pay us for the work now do they. And people wonder why my head collection gets added to so often."
"Head collection?"
"You buy my services and then decide you don't want to pay me, I'll take your head instead. You'll never cheat another wizard again, that's for sure."
"Do you cast love spells?"
"I cast all spells.”
“Even love spells?”
“Anything you want, I can do. I didn't earn the title of being the world’s most powerful wizard for nothing, you know."
"But you specialize in Di'Jinn magic?"
"Yes."
"Isn't that wish granting?"
"No."
"Well, what is Di'Jinn magic then?"
"For your information, I make bottles for putting things in. You got an enemy you don't want around any more, I got a bottle you can put them in. Keep them in your pocket and they'll never bother you again, and you'll always know where they are. Anything you want to keep safe and out of your hair, I can make a bottle for you to put it in. If you have a dragon bothering your village and you are too kind-hearted to kill it and want to relocate, I can make you a dragon bottle..."
Quaraun pulled a small heart shaped bottle from the beaded heart shaped bag that hung from his belt. On the tiny glass heart was the shape of a pocket watch with a brass dragon encasing it. Quaraun held the small heart-shaped glass vial filled with shimmering green goo up into the light.
“Is there a dragon in there?”
“Yes. PocketLich. I’d show her to you but she is as big as a mountain. I can not release her indoors. There’d be no house left if I did that. Crash right out through it, she would.”
“Why do you have a dragon in a bottle?”
"I like dragons," the pink Necromancer continued. "They make good pets and even better weapons. I've had this one for decades. I got her from Fire Mountain. She's a DracoLich now. I turned her into a Lich before putting her in the bottle. She does all my killing for me so I don't have to. Keeps her well fed and I don't have to worry about what to do with the bodies. Dragons, Liches, Demons, Genies...anything you have, you want put in a bottle, I can make you the bottle for holding it. That's what I do, Pixie."
Quaraun put the small glass bottle of shimmering green goo back in his bag.
"Of course it's not limited to bottles. I make boxes and bags as well."
He pulled a small vial that resembled a perfume bottle filled with icy blue liquid, from his pink bag.
"I can even take an entire village, houses, people, trees and all and lock it away in a bottle. Let time forget about them. Like they never existed. Wiped off the face of the earth forever. Until such a time as I decide to let them go free. Just like I did to the Moon Elves."
Quaraun put the small glass bottle of icy blue liquid back in his pink sequined heart shaped bag of holding.
"That is my speciality. But I'm a Mage as well. I study all classes of wizardry, witchcraft, sorcery, and hoodoo. I don't think, there's anything I can't do. At least there's nothing I have tried yet, that I ever failed at."
"You do sorcery?"
"Yes."
"That's forbidden."
"So's Necromancy and I'm a Necromancer."
"You're The Pink Necromancer."
"I am."
"You're not a Guild member are you?"
"No. I'm not."
"Finderu will be furious."
"Leader of The Guild? He's already furious. Price on my head gets higher every day."
"You're wanted by The Guild?"
"I'm The Guild's number one most wanted criminal."
"You sound proud of that."
"I am. While they've hunted and murdered every last Sorcerer and Necromancer on the planet, I continually elude them and now I hunt them."
"The Swamp Hag is one of The Guild's board members."
"Ghirardelli?"
"Yeah."
"She was."
"Then what are you doing here visiting her?"
"Expanding my head collection."
"What?"
"And you say you desperately need my help?" The deathly pale Elf titled his head and raised an eyebrow. "I am somewhat surprised at the thought of a Pixie seeking help from an Elf. Last I knew, Pixies didn't like Elves and wanted us all dead. And Pixies aren't known for needing help from anyone. Their Fairy Glamour tends to serve all their needs."
"Well, yes." Kelim hunched his shoulders and ducked his head down in a stance that said 'Don't hit me.' "I...uhm...I...I don't do magic. It's...it's not...not a skill I have...it's..."
"Talking doesn't seem to be a skill you have either."
"Well, yeah...that's...that's...that's kind a...kind of the problem, why...why I'm here...I..."
The Moon Elf stood back from the door a bit and gestured his jewelled hand for Kelim to step inside. Kelim hesitated a moment, but then decided it was now or never, and stepped into the mossy snow covered hovel.
"I have work to do. I kind of need to do it. I'll do it while you talk. Considering how long it takes you, if I wait for you to finish a sentence, I'll never get anything done. Go sit down over there and see if you can tell me what you want in less than an hour."
The inside was neat and smelled of fresh pine, green herbs, lavender, and cedar wood chips, it didn’t look worn down and neglected like the outside 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.
"Where's uh...what's her name...the old swamp hag that lives here?"
"Ghirardelli?"
"Yeah, that's the one. Never can remember how to say her name."
“She’s decapitated in the other room.”
“Decapitated?”
“Hmm? Ah. Did I say the wrong word?”
“You ... you ... said ... she’s ... uhm ... she’s...”
"Incapacitated. Yes. That’s what I meant to say. She's temporally incapacitated at the moment."
"Incapacitated?"
"I suppose decapitated is a better word.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“But...”
“She can’t speak to you right now.”
“No?”
“No.”
“But...”
“You'll have to do with talking to me. How may I help you?"
"Where's the... uh... uhm... the.."
"The what?"
"The uhm... uhn... "
"Do you talk like this with everyone?"
"I... err... uhm..."
Quaraun pulled a gold throne from his bag and flung himself onto it's fuchsia velvet pillows.
"The Goblin was right, you really do have issues talking. You'll never get a woman if you can't get to the end of a sentence."
"The Witch."
"Th what?"
“The Witch.”
“Yes. What of her?”
“You said she was decapitated.”
“Yes. I did say that didn’t I? Slip of the tongue. Bad habit. Would you like to join her?”
“Join her?”
“Yes. There’s always plenty of room for more souls and heads. Heads and souls. One can never have enough or too many of either.”
"Where's the Witch?"
"Ghirardelli?" Quaraun looked around the room as though looking for something, then looked back to Kelim. "Oh, I left her laying around here somewhere."
"Can I talk to her?"
"I thought you wanted to talk to me?"
"You... you're..."
"I'm what?"
"Mean.”
“Am I?”
“And. Scary."
"I'm scary? Hahaha! Oh. That's hilarious."
Quaraun stopped laughing and became serious again.
"You could try talking to her. Won't do much good. She won't answer you. You'll definitely need a Necromancer to help you communicate with her. I suppose it's a good thing I'm here then."
Quaraun, pulled a small red bottle from his pocket and held it up to the light, peering inside.
"What do you want, Kelim? Spit it out."
"Well, I kind of need a wish granted, sort of..."
"A wish? Are we back on the topic of wishes again?"
"Well, yeah."
"From Ghirardelli? Or me?"
"Well...you...people around town talk, you know and they say...they say...well...you're like...like the most powerful wizard on the planet....and....and I have pr...problems and people told me...I...I...I should...I should come to you while you was here, because you travel and..."
"So, you’ve come to make a wish? Throw a penny in the wishing well? Maybe you should be wishing for the ability to speak." Quaraun chuckled at his joke. "A moment ago you desperately needed my help, now you seek to make a wish. Make up your mind, Boy. Help oe wish. Wish or help, what do you want?"
"Well...uhm...how are they different?"
Quaraun's pale blue eyes widened, then narrowed as he scrutinized the young Pixie. Quaraun slipped out of his throne and paced around the room straighten things and cleaning as he spoke.
"Wishes granted are very different from help given. Granted wishes are rarely helpful. They usually make things worse. Wishes must be carefully worded, because what you ask for is what you will get. The problem is word meanings are very important, but the average person is simply too retarded to understand the meanings of any words they use. Do you use words correctly?"
"I... uhm..."
"Perhaps you should first learn how to talk."
"You’re mean."
"No. You being unable to face the truth, is your problem, not mine. Me telling you the truth is not me being mean. You want a wish and wishes rely on bringing words to life. If you can't even say the words you want to wish for, how do you expect to say the correct words correctly. When it comes to wishes, correct word usage is important. A slip of the tongue, a cough, or a sneeze, and you could find yourself turned into a rabbit..."
"Than I'd have ears like you."
"Hmmmm. No trouble saying that did you? You're someone who gets by, by bulling others. You don't know how to talk to anyone, because you are too busy being a bully."
"I'm not a bully!"
"No? The fence out front of this house had other things to say about that."
"The fence?"
"Wishes are very different from help. I can grant your wishes or I can help you. I can do both or either. You don't see them as being different?"
"Well, no! Should I?"
Quaraun walked slowly around the Pixie, examining his shimmering green and gold butterfly wings.
Quaraun did not like Fae.
Good Fae.
Bad Fae.
Light Fae.
Dark Fae.
Water Fae.
Mountain Fae.
Trooping Fae.
Solitaries.
It didn't matter to him, the size or type, he didn't like them.
Any of them.
At all.
Especially not Phookas.
Except...
No.
He hated Phookas.
Yes.
That was it.
Faeries reminded him of Phookas.
BoomFuzzy was a Phooka.
King Gwallmaiic, King of the Faeries.
This Pixie was a Fairy.
It was reminding him of Faeries.
Which reminded him of Phookas.
Which reminded him of BoomFuzzy.
He pondered the possibility of explaining to a Fae the difference between a wish and being in actual need of help, but concluded that he had yet to meet a Fae capable of logical thought or reasoning, and so trying to be either logical or reasonable with one, was absolutely pointless.
"No. I suppose not. Fae have no logic or common sense in them at all. Ants have more intelligence. Too lazy to help yourselves. Always gotta bum off others. No self sufficiency in them at all. Ants are self sufficient you know. Do all the hard work themselves. You could learn something from ants. Though I do need more souls and willing souls don’t often come knocking at the door willing to throw themselves at me. So you desperately need my help with a wish then?"
"But I just... said... well... yeah...uhm...yes?"
"Alright. What is it then, this wish that you so desperately need my help with?"
"Well, you see, there's this...this...uhm...well... there's a...uhm...a....in the village...she...uhm..."
"A girl?"
Kelim blushed and stared at the wooden floorboards.
Quaraun shook his head.
"It's always a girl. It's beyond me what you see in females. Nothing good about any of them, far as I've ever been able to tell. All they are good for is making babies and I can't see that that's very useful either. Babies just grow up to be adults and there aren’t a lot of good ones out there."
“Weren’t you in love?”
"Pixies," Quaraun muttered to himself, as he made his way across the room to a shelf with more small glass bottles on it. "I hate Faeries. Pixies no better than any other Fae..."
"Are you talking to yourself?"
"Oh course I'm talking to myself, I'm insane, remember? And there's no one else with a brain around here for me to talk to, now is there?"
"I'm here."
"That's exactly my point."
"You're mean, aren't you?"
"I'm an Elf."
"You don't have to be mean."
"I'm the Grand High Emperor of The Triple Planets, I can be whatever the Hell, I want."
"You..."
"Have you ever even talked to an Elf before?"
"No. We don't see many Elves around here."
"I've noticed that. Is it any wonder why, with Finderu around here?"
"Finderu?"
"I don't like Finderu, do you?"
"No."
"Good, then we're on the same page. Now what do you want from me?"
"Can you cast a love spell on Ofelia?"
"Cast a ... You want me to cast love spell? You don't know anything about magic do you?"
"Wha...what do you mean?"
"Magic is great and dandy for what it does, but magic has its limits. Things it can't do."
"So you can't cast a love spell?"
"That's not what I said. I'm a Wizard of the Di'jinn Order, I can cast any spell. I'm just not sure if you know what you want."
"I want a love spell."
"Do you even know what a love spell does?"
"It makes someone fall in love with you."
Quaraun shook his head.
"Why must I work with idiots and fools? Fools and idiots. Fucking imbeciles."
"I'm not an idiot..."
"Well then, you must be a fool."
"I'm a Pixie..."
"And I'm an Elf."
"So?"
"So you're the idiot who came to me for help, because you couldn't find anyone else with enough brain to help you."
"I... uhm..."
"You know I'm right."
"Uhmm..."
"Bit of advice, Boy, don't argue with an Elf, especially not one who is also a Di'Jinn. Especially not one as arrogant as me.”
“I’m kind of surprised you admit it.”
“What that I’m arrogant? I know what I am, Boy, I’m not going to hide it. You're lucky I don't cut off your head and stuff you in a bottle."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I'm a Di'Jinn, it's what I do."
"Putting heads in bottles?"
"No," Quaraun pulled a severed head out of the pink heart-shaped bag of holding hanging from his belt. Fresh blood was still dripping from the ragged flesh of the severed throat. The eyes blinked and looked around. The mouth was gagged and moving as though trying to scream. "I keep the heads in my pocket. I keep the headless bodies in a bottle. Keeps them from getting back up and walking around. They need their heads to be resurrected, but not their bodies. A talking head can't go nowhere without its body. They are stuck here with me for eternity. Each has their own bottle.”
“Who... who...” Kelim pointed to the head in Quaraun’s hand.
“Who is this? This one is Ghirardelli. The Swamp Hag who lived here. Fucking Guild member. Would rather protect Finderu and lose her head than tell me where he is."
"You're holding a head."
"Of course I am. I'm a Necromancer. Did you forget that?"
"You're... you're..." Kelim stared bug eyed at Ghirardelli's head.
"I'm what?"
"A murderer."
"Yes. Of course I am. What did you expect? Pink ponies and purple unicorns pooping out rainbows? I’m a fucking Necromancer. We kill people for a living, so we can resurrect them as our undead minions. Talking heads are particular favorite of mine. Them and Liches.”
“Is that what Necromancers do?”
“No, we plant roses and hand out candy canes to children. How stupid are you?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Clearly. I’m a Necromancer. Being able to commit murder is kind of in the job description. I didn't used to be. Pity. That what love does to you, you know? Did you know I'm the victim of a love spell? And I’m the fucking mage who cast it. I'm very good at love spells. I cast one on myself and my lover, centuries ago, but he died and now I'm insane, and cut off heads. Still think you want a love spell cast on you?"
Quaraun stared at the head, holding it face to face with himself.
"What's love have to do with... with... that." Kelim pointed to the head.
"She hated BoomFuzzy."
"What?"
"She helped Finderu found The Guild."
"I don't understand."
"I don't expect you would. You're neither Elf, nor Wizard."
"Did you kill her?"
"I'll kill you as well, if you refuse to cease squabbling with me."
Quaraun placed the head back in his bag.
"Why did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Kill her."
"Oh, I don't know," the annoyed Elf seethed, sarcastically. "Perchance, maybe, it might possibly, involve something to do with the fact of my being ever just so desperately insane. Or maybe it’s because I’m a Necromancer. And slaughtering people in as much gore filled carnage and bloodshed as we can muster, is we Necromancers do for a living. Or maybe, just maybe, it might be because that fucking little nosey assed, psychotic bitch, couldn't mind her own damned business and she encouraged Finderu to plot to assassinate BoomFuzzy. Or as it may as well be, it’s none of your fucking god damned business. You came hitherto me for assistance with wishes not to interrogate me on my habits."
"You really are insane, aren't you?"
"No. Actually I'm not. And people don't refer to me as insane because I collect heads because most people aren't even aware I do that. They call me insane because of the fashion of my attire. Now do you want your love potion or not?"
Kelim blushed again.
"Shy one, aren't we?"
"I..."
"Always bargain during the harvest season. It's the wrong time of year for love spells."
"What?" Kelim felt confused, as though he's missed something.
Quaraun had pulled a large wooden chest from his hip bag and was now unpacking it. It too seemed to be a bag of holding, as he was unloading lots of other boxes out of it, way more than what should have fit it it. Or perhaps it was a Mimic, as it bit him a few times, while he was unpacking it.
The ancient wizard was muttering to himself as he unpacked smaller boxes out of the bigger boxes. And than he unpacked lots of tiny potion bottles out of the smaller boxes.
"Passion potion. Appreciation draught. Comeuppance cordial. Reckoning potion. Cupid's sachet. Retribution potion. Hot Footing powder. Jack balls. Friendship potion. Reconciliation elixir. Worry potion. Friendship draught. Retaliation cordial. Black salt. Punishment potion. Compassion sachet. Heartbroken potion. Goffer powder. Gris-gris. Fear potion. Harmony elixir..."
"I want a love spell, not those other ones."
"Shut up," Quaraun snapped at the boy. "I'm looking for something. Stop interrupting me."
"Okay."
The Elf went back to talking to himself, reading the lables off bottles and jars and little pepper pots as he unboxed them and laid them out on the floor all around him.
"Anger potion. Gratitude draught. Requital cordial. Arithmetic potion. Cupid's potpourri. Revenge potion. Quarrel powder. Holy Water. Good will potion. Harmony elixir. Misery potion. Intimacy draught. Eye for an eye cordial. Diabolical savor. Torture potion. Sympathy sachet. Empathy potion. Uncrossing powder. Wangas. War Water. YaYa potion. Seven Orisha elixir... ah! Here it is! Love potion."
Quaraun held up a tiny red glass bottle.
"You keep everything pre made in bottles?"
"Of course I do.”
“Why?”
“A wise person is always prepared for anything.”
“But couldn’t you just, I don’t know, make it in the kitchen? Seems a trouble to have to carry it around with you.”
“Look around you, Boy. I don’t live here. You know that. I don’t live any where. I’m a homeless wandering vagabond.”
“But couldn’t you just use this house?”
“This isn't my house you know. I don't know what ingredients she has available. Or where anything it. When I'm at home I can make all my potions ahead of time. Well, all the ones that can be made ahead of time.”
“You just said you were homeless.”
“Yes. I did. And I am. But I have places I go. People who let me stay with them.”
“Oh. But I thought you was going to make me a love potion special just for me.”
“Are you willing to wait long enough for me to make one special just for you?”
“I can wait. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You really don’t know nothing about potion making do you?”
“No. Why?”
“How long are you expecting to wait?”
“How long does it take?”
“About 4 months.”
“Four months!”
“Maybe more.”
“More?”
“Yes. Depends on which recipe I use and what plants are available in the area. Could be a couple of years if I had to travel to some distant land in search of, I don’t know, some rare black orchid.”
“Years? Multiple years to make one potion?”
“Oh, yes. You were’n’t expecting me to wave a wand and go POOF! Were you?” Quaraun pulled out his wand as he spoke and waved it around over his head.
“Well, yeah, kind of. You are a wizard, after all.”
“You been reading too many Fairy Tales, Boy. Real world magic, isn’t like what they tell you in Fantasy novels.”
“But magic is real, right?”
“Oh, yes. Magic is most certainly real. I just think, real magic, may not be quite so glamourous as you are imagining it to be.”
“So, no magic wands?”
“No.”
“But you are holding one.”
“What? This?” Quaraun waved the wand around again. “This is nothing.”
“Than why do you have it?”
“In case I need to kill someone.”
“Kill some one?”
“Yes.”
“With a little wooden stick?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Well, usually, I just wave it around while I talk, and when they least expect it, I ram it up their nose and through their brain. And POOF! Instant death by magic wand. No magic needed.”
“You’re kind of violent, aren’t you.”
“The world is a violent place, Kelim.”
“Of, course, I can also just do this.”
Quaraun spun around, aimed the wand, and a brilliant purple bolt of lightening shot out from the end of the wand and blew up the table on the other side of the room, leaving nothing but a smoldering piles of ashes where moments ago had been a table.
“That... that.. how..”
“I am the world’s most powerful wizard.”
“But... you said...”
“That wizards couldn’t do that sort of thing? Yes, I did. And most wizards can’t. White Magic, Green Magic, or any of those other tuttie-fruittie legal forms of magic can’t produce those kinds of results. Dark arts, my boy, are far more powerful, and allow forr the type of magic, I do.”
“You’re evil. Aren’t you?”
“Evil is a matter of perspective. I do not see myself as evil, Kelim. But Finderu and his Guild, they most certainly think of me as evil. As does most of the high populting snooty citezens of the world.”
“So, you...”
Quaraun ignored Kelim and went on talking.
“These things don't make themselves instantly you know.” Quaraun held up a potion bottle. ”When it comes to love potions, people want them, now, not a week from now or a month from now, not tomorrow or the next day. They want immediate, now. You want this NOW, right?”
“Well, yeah...”
“See? I know what my customers want. I know how the consumer thinks. Instant gratification. That’s all any one wants. Love or otherwise, they always want instant resultss. You want instant results, yes?”
“Yes.”
“They don't like to be told it takes me a week to reduce the flower essence down into oils. Do you want to wait weeks for me to gather 1,000 pink rose petals and boil them down into a reduced goop?”
“No.”
“No!. Of course not! And who am I to make you wait? They don't want to hear that it'll take me 6 months to travel to where the flower grows and pick it.You wouldn’t want to wait 6 months, would you?”
“No.”
“You want Ofelia, now, not 6 months from now. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly! They don't want to wait weeks for the next blue moon for me to prepare it under. By having the potions pre-made, I can give you instant reults, that no other wizard can provide. They are too busy, sitting in their hovels, waiting for clients to come and give them requests. Me? I just make some of everything and have them already and waiting for you, before you even know you needed it. I know who wants what and make it before they get here.”
“Did you know I would be coming?”
“Yes. I did. I just did not know when. But I knew, at some point, you would find me. So, I have several love potions already made, some that took me many moons to make.”
“Moons?”
“I am a Moon Elf. We do everything by moon phases.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. Spells take weeks, months, to prepare. Certain things must be done on certain days. Specific moon phases. It takes months to get all parts made, just for a single potion, because so many moon phases are involved.”
“Is it really that important?”
“Yes. And a man with a horney dick can't wait even minutes for a potion to convince the girl to let him fuck her. So they certainly won't wait months for me to make their potion. Thus, lots of boxes of lots of bottles of potions that I made months ago. I've a potion for everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything. The advantage of being a traveling wizard for hire, and why my services are more in demand. Even though I’m a wanted criminal with a price on my head. No one turns me in, because they need something from me, and they know they can ONLY get it from me.”
“But there are other wizards...”
“No other wizard offers my services. Isn’t that why you came to ME, and not one of the other wizards?”
“Uhm... yeah... kind of... every one says you’re the best.”
“I AM the best.”
“Did you even consider going to one of the local wizards?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Uhm... they’re all friends of Finderu.”
“Finderu.”
“Yeah. This town is kind of the hot spot for wizards. Every street has one or two. But, I don’t know...”
“They’re all Guild members.”
“Yeah.”
“Keep their noses clean. Never touch any spooky, scary, booga-booga black arts, dark magic.”
“Yeah.”
“They heal warts and pimples and the common cold, but can’t call down thunder storms or raise the dead or make Ofelia fall in love with you.”
“Yeah.”
“A bunch of incompetent losers and are nothing but wannabes in wizard’s clothing.”
“Yeah... it’s like... like... like they are a club 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.”
“And that’s wy you came to me.”
“Yeah, because, you... you... well... I think other wizards are scared of you.”
“They are.”
“It’s like, what they do isn’t real, but wat you do is real, and they are so scared of you, that they... they...”
“Want to kill me to eliminate the competition?”
“Yeah. That too, but.. but... also...”
“They want to kill me so know one ever finds out what they do isn’t real magic, because if anyone compared what they do to what I do, they’d know the Guild members were a bunch of phoneys.”
“Yeah. That.”
“And that my boy is exactly why the Guild wants me dead. They may say it’s for all those other reasons, but really they are just a bunch of losers, incompetent, bumbling wizards who can’t cast a proper spell, can’t brew a decent potion, and they know it. They are jealous of my skill, and want me dead, for no other reason, than I am their biggest competition.”
“How come you have more skill? Why can’t they do what you do?”
“I am 750 years old, and I was born, what people called ‘A Chosen One’”
“A Chosen One?”
“Yes. At the time I was born, there was some prophecy about a child with the powers of a god, that was going to be born, and everyone thought it was me.”
“Was it you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? Maybe not. That’s the point. The point is, my mother started teaching me magic arts when I was 3 years old, and she took me to visit these priests who supposedly were going to school me in magic.”
Quaraun paused. The thought of his mother, seemed to pain him. He became visibly upset.
“Did they?”
“Teach me magic? No. It was a trap. An ambush. The priests turned out to be Thullids. ZooLock in fact.”
“ZooLock! ZooLock the Great?”
“Yes.”
“Protector of the innocent? Defeater of Oolong the Stupid?”
“Yes. That ZooLock.”
“You’ve actually met him?”
“Yes.”
“Wow!”
“A fan of his?”
“Isn’t everyone?”
“No.”
“He’s like, like... I don’t know, he’s like the most famous monk ever.”
“Yes. I do believe he is. And he kept me prisoner for thousands of years.”
“What? I thought you were 750 years old?”
“Quaraun is.”
“Aren’t you Quaraun?”
“Quaraun died centuries ago.”
“I don’t understand. I thought...”
“Quaraun’s mother took him to a group of priests, to school him in magic. But it was a trap. An ambush. The priests turned out to be Thullids. ZooLock was on the run. He’d kidnapped The Sacred Pink JellyFish.”
“She died didn’t she?”
“The Scared Pink JellyFish?”
“Yeah.”
“No. Quaraun did. The Elf died. But I still live.”
“Aren’t you Quaraun?”
“No. I’m The Sacred Pink JellyFish. ZooLock ripped opened the Elfling’s skull and put me inside. I ate 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 fo my host. I was able to grown and reach my full potential with his body. Something I could not have done in another Elf.”
“So you are a Thullid?”
“Yes. I am a Thullid.”
“Your the Thullid Goddess, The Sacred Pink JellyFish?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s why you can do magic, no one else can do?”
“Exactly.”
“So, you do Thullid magic, because you are a Thullid?”
“Yes.”
“So than, Quaraun is Demon Possessed?”
“How do you come by that logic?”
“Well, aren’t Thullids, Demons? And aren’t you living inside the body of an Elf, controlling his mind and thoughts and body?”
“Yes. Thiis is all true.”
“Than you are a Demon possessed Elf, right?”
“I suppose one could see it that way.”
“Okay.”
“And that does not bother you?”
“No. This is great in fact!”
“Is it?”
“Yes!”
“How so?”
“Because that means your magic is real magic. It’s Demon Magic! That means you really can make Ofelia love me!”
“Do you think you can afford me?”
“I have money.”
“What use has a Demon for money?”
“What do people usually pay you with if not money?”
“Their souls.”
“You want my soul?”
“What I WANT is Finderu’s soul.”
“Finderu?”
“And his head.”
“But... uhm... does that mean you want me to kill Finderu?”
“Ideally, yes.”
“But Finderu is Ofelia’s father. If I kill her dad, then she’ll never love me.”
“Ah! But with the proper love spell, that won’t matter.”
“Won’t it?” the little, green and gold winged Pixie asked.
“No. If I cut your soul in half and cut her soul in half, and put a half of your soul in her and a half of her soul in you, the two of you will be bound together, forever, for time and all eternity. She’ll cherish you from beyond the grave.”
Quaraun’s voice faded into sad, distant thoughts. He was soul bound, but his lover was dead. And yet he could still feel every thought, every emotion, every scream of agony from beyond the grave.
“Does it hurt?” Kelim asked, unable to mask the fear in his voice. The thought of death terrified him to no end. He didn’t like thinking about death.
“Hmmm?” Quaraun’s mind had drifted off into a hazy, foggy, fizzy, figgy, daze as he thought gloomy, dreary thoughts of his dead lover. “Does what hurt?”
“Cutting your soul in half?”
“Oh, no. That part is quite painless. Love, however, is never painless. The pain comes later. Death, brings with it, such lose, such loneliness. You feel everything they feel. You know all their thoughts. All their emotions. You are sad when they are sad. You feel the joy when they laugh. Their mirth bubbles inside you. When they are cut, you bleed with them. And when they die, you feel every last throws of death, as they feel it. Their joys become your joys. Their sufferings, your sufferings. Their death, your eternal doom.”
“I don’t want eternal doom. I want love.”
“Doom and gloom. Gloom and doom. You can not have true love without true suffering. They travel hand in hand. Skipping across your soul in fettered glee. Tormenting your mind. Haunting your spirit. Delighting in the joys of squashing your soul into the dirt. Love hurts. But your soul screams for it. Longs for it. Begs for it. No matter the cost. Love will trample your heart. Beat it into the ground. And you will want it ever still, ever more. The more love hurts you, the more you crave it.”
“Uhm… I want Ofelia to love me, not trample me into the ground.”
“Females trample the men they love into the ground. Without a love spell, she will use you and lose you. With a love spell, she’ll just use you. It is the nature of women and is precisely why I do not like women. Females are horrible creatures. I absolutely despise them.”
The blue eyed Elf wrinkled his nose in disgust as he thought of women.
“Ofelia isn’t like that.”
“No? And how exactly would you know? You’ve never even met her. You know nothing about her. You are mesmerized by her beauty. You know nothing of her personality. You lust after her. You do not love her. If you loved her, you would take her with all her flaws. And you would enjoy it when she trampled you.”
“Uhm…. uh… okay… but… uhm…”
“Back to the uhms again.”
“You became rather morbid there. I want love, not, that, whatever that is that you are describing.”
“Boy, you know nothing of love.”
Quaraun shook the thought from his mind, and his voice became overly cheerful and chipper.
“Together. Forever. True, genuine, authentic love can never die. Love that stays, ever and always. Unbreakable. Unshakable. The beauty of such a romance! To never be parted! Not even by death. The sensations of such a love. You can not even begin to imagine. The pair of thee shall be told of in legends.”
“I...uhm.. that.. not... I... don’t want... I just...”
“Soul binding too much for you?”
“I just want her to fall in love with me.”
“You do not want a romance that lasts forever?”
“I... I...uhm... I don’t... I... uhm...”
“Back to the uhms again. All right. We shall take note of that. Soul binding is too big and scary of a love spell for you. You want transitory love, not everlasting love. What else have we got?”
“You have more than one?”
“Yes, I do. What we need to do it to determine which love spell you prefer. I can have the potion you want in minutes. You don’t have to wait months if you get your potions from me. But, we need to figure out what exactly it is you want it to do.”
“I want a love spell.”
“Yes. You’ve said that. But which type do you want?”
“I... uhm... do other wizards have different types of love spells?”
“No. They do not. That is why their conjurations so often fail, and mine do not. Every customer has different urgencies. There is no one size fits all love spell. I’m a better wizard than other wizards because I know what the consumer wants. I let the customer think they are invariably correct, even when they aren’t. You want a love potion. You can’t be talked out of a love potion. I have love potions pre-prepared precisely for folks like you. So, you shall have a love potion. Now to work out WHICH love potion is appropriate for you and your case.”
“Which love potion?”
“Yes. Which?”
“Are there many?”
“Yes. I have many. All do something different.”
“Is it many, as if a few or lots?”
“Oh, my, yes! Thousands. I don’t have so many pre-made. Many can’t be pre-made and must be made specific to the couple in question. But we can start you out with a pre-made one. And if that doesn’t manage the action you expect it to, we can think about a custom prepared one for you.”
"Why so many different?"
"There are different types of love."
"There are?"
"You don't love your mother the same way you love your wife, now do you?" Quaraun eyed the Pixie suspiciously. "Of course, you're a Faerie, so perhaps you do."
"I want Ofelia to love me. Whatever type of love that is."
"Tis planting season, not harvest season and you are bargaining for a great cause..."
"A great cause?" Kelim didn't understand.
The Moon Elf seemed to be speaking only half of what he was thinking.
Either that or he truly was insane and not capable of thinking too clearly.
Kelim didn't think he had ever met an insane person before. So he wasn't sure what to expect from this man, rumoured to be insane.
"Love is a great cause. Perhaps the only cause truly worth fighting for." Quaraun stopped what he was doing and turned to the Pixie. "Would YOU fight for love?"
"Uhm...I... uhm...”
"Uhm is not an answer. You hesitate at too many things, Boy."
The Elf snapped his perfectly manicured fingers in Kelim’s face.
“It’s a simple answer, Boy, yes or no. There’s nothing to think about, no ahhs, errs, or uhmms, it should be just automatic: yes or no.”
“I’m just a boy, you know!” Kelim pouted. “I don’t know all the right answers yet. I’m not some ancient wise old Wizard who’s spent a lifetime studying brick a brack tomes.”
“Ancient and old? Old and ancient. You think I’m old?”
The Necromancer stopped what he was doing, stepped back, and stared dumbfounded at the Pixie.
“Old and ancient. Ancient and old.”
His voice sounded wounded, and Kelim instantly regretted his sudden outburst.
Quaraun silently mouthed the words ancient and old several times.
“Do I look old to you?” Quaraun asked the Pixie, but then did not wait for an answer.
Quaraun's voice had changed. Calm and composed before, he could not mask the nervous, worried, panicked, anxiety that shivered through him, causing his body to tremble.
Much to Kelim’s surprise, Quaraun pulled a full-length mirror out of his impossibly tiny bag. Then stood in front of it muttering to himself about being old, while he stared horrified, stressed, and confused at his own reflection.
“I didn’t mean...” Kelim tried to explain he wasn't calling the Elf old, but Quaraun wasn’t listening to Kelim. The abnormally vain Elf had pulled a silver brush from the bag and was now nervously brushing his luxuriant white Rapunzel hair.
No.
Brushing his hair was not quite an accurate statement. Quaraun was ripped the bristles through his locks with a frantic abandon. The thought that he might have started to age, had triggered the Elf into a self-absorbed frenzy of fussing over what he looked like, while franticly brushing his hair.
The elderly wizard continued to mutter about being old and trailed off into speaking a language Kelim did not understand.
“I didn’t say you looked old. Hey!”
Kelim tried to get Quaraun’s attention. But it was a fruitless endeavour.
The Elf had now taken to searching for wrinkles on his face.
Kelim couldn't tell what the Elf was saying, but whatever it was, Quaraun sounded terrified.
The little green and gold-winged Fairy might as well been talking to a brick wall. The vain, self absorbed Elf was not hearing a word Kelim was trying to say.
Kelim immediately understood that this Elf was very self-conscious about his looks. Kelim regretted 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 worried 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 Ofelia.
Kelim stamped his foot in frustration.
Kelim had not intended to hurt the Elf’s feelings. And clearly this was highly narcissistic, egotistical Elf. A sad, lonely, depressed Elf, suffering from some serious vanity and pride issues. It occurred to Kelim that calling the Elf old could ruin his chances of getting any help from the Elf.
“I... I’m...I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right. I wasn’t thinking, I...”
“You seem to do a lot of that.”
Quaraun turned back to a shelf full of strange looking curio objects. Jars of bird's feet and lizards tongue and such other things.
"Lack of thinking is a serious flaw on your part. Of course you're a Faerie, so what else is there to expect? It's why you're here is it not? Hasty thinking, don't know what else to do, ain't got enough sense to jerk yourself off, cum on your feet. Oh noooo. Got a little cunt ya want to be fucking. Can't find a way to fuck her, so let's run to the local Wizard whom we think is more powerful than the Wizard whose daughter I want to fuck."
"I didn't say I wanted to..."
Quaraun turned and stared at the young Pixie. He didn't need to say a word, Kelim could see from the look on his face, that Quaraun was accusing him of lying. Kelim hung his head and looked at the large wooden table.
The Moon Elf strode across the room and flung himself into a large throne like chair. He sat there staring at the Pixie waiting for him to say something. Seeing that Kelim wasn't going to speak, the Necromancer wet back to talking.
"Of course that says something about Finderu, doesn't it? Big bad powerful Wizard, and he can't handle his own daughter. That's what comes of fucking girls. You end up with a pregnant bitch and babies to raise.”
“What’s wrong with having a family?”
“Families die and leave you alone.”
“Did you have a...”
“My family is dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Wizards should never have families. You lose your focus. Finderu was never a contender for World's Most Powerful wizard now was he? And he can't stand it. So what does he do? Do you know what he did?”
“No.”
“Organized a group of bloodthirsty militant Wizards to band together and kill off every last Wizard who is not a member of their group. Then they take over the government. Crown themselves law of the land and forbid all types of magic they are too incompetent to practice themselves. Kill off anyone who can practice the advanced arts.”
“You talking about The Guild?”
“Yes. That's what The Guild is, Kelim. That's the kind of Wizard Finderu is. And me, being the most powerful Wizard of them all, he's got more prizes on my head than any other Wizard.”
“Aren’t you wanted for murder?”
“That, and bathing too often, among other things.”
“Bathing too often?”
“Have you seen the wanted posters lately? I doubt he even as half the money he says my head is worth. And you come along, want to stick your prick in his bitch’s cunt, and who do you go to for help? The person Finderu hates most of all. Me."
Quaraun held up a wanted poster with his face on it.
"You know these pictures don't do me justice. I should do a sit down with their artist. Pose for my wanted poster. Now I ask you, does this even look anything like me?"
Kelim looked at the wanted poster.
WANTED:
QUARAUN THE INSANE:
Wanted for Necromancy, Demonology, Sorcery, Black Magic, murder, rape, buggery, sodomy, cross-dressing, bathing more than twice a year...
There were more things on the list, but Quaraun rolled up the poster and stuffed it back in his bag, before Kelim had time to read the rest.
"I am the most beautiful Elf the world has ever seen. Look at me! That artist, clearly never saw me. How does Finderu ever expect to capture me if he can't even find an artist that can capture my beauty?"
"You're very vain, aren't you?"
“You would be too, if you were as beautiful as me."
"Ofelia is as beautiful as you."
"No one is as beautiful as me."
Kelim slowly lifted his eyes to meet those of the Necromancer. Quaraun was sitting very stiff, leaning forward with his thin elbows on the arms of the chair and his long bony fingers crossed in front of him. Kelim thought the Elf looked very smug and regal, almost kingly, well queenly, the guy was wearing a pink dress after all. Kind of hard to take a fearsome Elf like Quaraun totally seriously when he was sitting there sparkling from head to toe in pink sequins. But still, his cold eyes were formidable and warned that this was not an Elf to be reckoned with.
"I love her. To me that makes her more beautiful than anyone."
"Well, you know what they say. Love is blind."
"Are you going to make a love spell for me or not?"
"You do understand, Boy, that these things always come with a cost. Don't you?"
"How much do you want?"
"I'm a Necromancer. Only thing I ever want is souls. Souls and heads. Heads and souls. They are very valuable. And hard to come by. You pay with your soul or you pay with your head. Either or both, I don't care which."
"You're mad."
The Moon Elf laughed wickedly, "I'm supposedly insane, what did you expect?"
"How much does a love spell cost?"
"I already told you."
"No, you didn't. I need to know how much to pay you."
"I’m not talking about money, Boy. I have plenty of money. Here!" Quaraun reached into his bag and pulled out a handful of gold coins and tossed them across the room in Kelim's direction. "Take some coins. Buy yourself a mansion. Let Ofelia marry you for money."
Kelim stared at the gold coins, now scattered across the floor.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. I’m an Elf. I never joke. Take the gold. I don’t need it.”
"I can't take your gold."
"Why not? I don't need it and I've plenty more where that came from."
"Where'd you get it?"
"I killed a black, mountain dragon. I have a dragon's hoard. I own a volcano filled to overflowing with jewels and gold."
Quaraun slid off the huge pink cushioned gold throne and glided back to where Kelim stood. Kelim leaned over cock-eyed trying to see if the Elf's feet were touching the ground or not. He seemed to be floating several inches off the ground, but Kelim couldn't tell as the pink silks were fluttering on the ground and the Elf's feet could not be seen.
"Take the gold, Kelim. Buy the whore. Better than a love spell."
“No it’s not.”
“Yes, Kelim, it is. In your case. All you want is a bitch to fuck. So go get yourself a bitch willing to be fucked.”
“That’s not what I want.”
“Really? Could have fooled me.”
“I want Ofelia to love me.”
“But you don’t want the bad that comes with the good. All you want is a pretty flower willing to jump in your bed. You have no desire for love. You cringe at the thought of all of love’s side effects. And there ARE side effects to love. Love comes with more bad than good. If you only want the good, than love is not what you want. You know nothing about love.”
“I know what I want!”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“No! You don’t. You are young and foolish. You have no idea what love is. You only know the fairy tale fantasy. You know nothing of real love.”
“Do you?”
“YES. I. DO.” Quaraun snarled in raged fury as he said this last line.
Kelim stepped back. The Elf looked terrifying just now. Kelim didn’t doubt that Quaraun had been truly in love. But the love that Quaraun spoke of... it was terrifying. Painful. Suffering. That wasn’t what Kelim thought of when he thought of love.
“I.. I.. I want her to love me.”
“And you think a love spell will do that?”
Quaraun rolled the tiny red glass bottle over and over in his hand as he spoke. The fiery glare in his crystal blue eyes sent shivers down Kelim’s spine. All Kelim wanted to do was buy a love spell and be gone. Why was this old Elf making it so difficult for him? Kelim wanted to fold up like a piece of paper and slip under the door. To run and hide. This pale Moon Elf was scaring him.
“I love her...”
“Do you?”
“Yes!”
“Do you even know what love is?”
“Of course I do!”
“I think not. Kelim. I think you have a lot of growing up to do. I think, you are too immature to understand true love. I think, the consequences of love, actual love, are too great for your mind to handle. You act like love is something you can buy from any merchant. Disposable. Replaceable. Get a filly. Try her out. The toss her aside for a new model when you get bored. Love is a deep and important thing. It lasts forever. I loved once. I still love. But my lover is dead. But love, true love, is forever. It never dies. Souls can reach across time and space and touch each other, long after death. He is long dead, but I can still feel his soul. Forever’s a long time, Boy. If you truly love her, you’ll still love her, when she’s dead and gone. And you won’t replace her with another, because love doesn’t do that. True love lasts. Only lust replaces a lover, because lust isn’t love. Love is loyal. Love is devoted. Love is faithful. Love is forever. Do you love her or do you lust after her?”
“I love her.”
“And yet you don’t know her.”
“I...”
“You never meet her, even.”
“I...”
“Does she have any pets?”
“I... uhm… I… don’t… uhm…”
“What type of food does she eat?”
“I...”
“How old is she?”
“I..."
“What is her favorite colour?”
“I... I love her.”
“Love is not a colour, Kelim.”
“Do you know anything about her at all?”
“She works in the bakery to spite her father because he doesn’t want her associating with common peasants. He says he’ll turn all us peasants into pheasants if he catches any of us with her.”
“Hmmm. There’s an added detail, you neglected to mention before. And, how do you plan to prevent yourself from being turned into a fine feathered friend, after my love spell makes her love you?”
“I… uhm… wouldn’t the spell fix that?”
Quaraun shook his head.
“Oh. Uhm… well… could you do a spell to fix that, too?”
“Kelim, I can’t fix all of your problems with magic.”
“Why not?”
“Because, I’m not your slave. I’m not going to let you pull me around by a nose ring, and force me to do everything for you. I’m not an ox.”
“But you do have a ring in your nose.”
“Yes I do. And that joke isn’t funny, Kelim. You keep up saying things like THAT to me and you’ll have more worries about my turning you into a frog, long before Finderu gets a chance to go pheasant on you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be. I don’t bullies, Kelim. I kill bullies. You start bullying me and I’ll not only not help you, but I’ll cut off your head as well.”
“Uhm… okay.”
“Grow some balls, Kelim. Your inability to stand up for yourself is the real problem here. Fix that and you won’t have to live in fear of Finderu or be too scared to talk to women. And it’ll fix your ah, ah, uhm, uhhh, problem as well. You need some self confidence. You have no feelings of self worth for yourself. That’s the spell you should be asking me to make for you.”
“But I need Ofelia to love me.”
“Need?”
“Yes. She needs to need me the way I need her.”
“Need? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“That’s different than love.”
“I need her and she needs me, she just doesn’t know it yet.”
“How can you love someone you never meet? Never talked to. Don’t even know. That is not love. That is lust. You lust for a pretty thing. You want to stick your cock in her. And once you’ve done that, your burning passion for her will die and you’ll find another. Love doesn’t do that.”
“I love her.”
“Are you sure? Do you wish for love or do you just wish to be fucked? If you want to fuck someone, go fuck a whore. There are plenty of them in this godforsaken town. They’ll take your money and show you a good time. Get your itch off your chest and out of your pants. You will think more clearly when your saluting cock ain’t leading the way.”
“I’m not... I don’t...”
"Not what? Not low enough to fuck a whore? Don't need to fuck a whore? What are you? A eunuch? I know you're not a eunuch. You know how I know you're not a eunuch? Because I am a eunuch. I have mastered the art of ignoring any need or desire for any man or woman of any kind. That's why I'm a powerful wizard. My mind isn't clogged up with petty, useless desires for sex. The only thing that leads a man to a woman, is his dick. Not his head and certainly not his heart.”
“My... my... I... ain't...”
“Your dick ain't leading the way? Ha!”
“No, I...”
“You love her? Really? I think not. It takes years to cultivate love. Love isn’t instant. That is lust. You can’t tell the difference between love and lust.”
“I do lo...”
“You love someone you have never met? Live with that person for 30 years, than tell me you still love them.”
“Thirty years is...”
“Too long? Can’t wait. Gonna burst your blue balls before than? Love waits. And if you can’t wait, you ain’t in love. You just want to shoot your cum on the bitch. And when you’ve done that, suddenly you’ll find you got no more need for her. No more love for her. Because you fucking don’t know what love is.”
“You don’t know anything about...”
“Don’t I? I haven’t lived seven hundred and fifty years for nothing. I know the ways of the world a lot better then you do, Boy!”
"I love her..."
"Do you?"
"Yes!"
“Prove it!”
“How do I...”
“Are you willing to die?”
“What?”
“Would you die for her?”
“I... “Kelim hesitated. “Uhm...”
Quaraun snapped his fingers in Kelim’s face.
“Quickly, Boy! In life or death situations, you don’t have time to think. If you hesitate, you love will be dead. You’ll be left alive, covered in her blood. Because you hesitated. You waited. Love acts. It doesn’t hesitate.”
Kelim was distracted by the strong smell of Absinthe on Quaraun's breath.
The anise and licorice minty scent was overpowering. Kelim knew fragrance of Green Fairy Wine. It was outlawed. But Winsnot drank it.
A powerful drug.
That's what Fairy Wine was. Wormwood, hashish seeds, and poppy milk, steeped in mint, beet juice, and grape wine, until it fermented into a sickly toxic emerald green color. It tasted like licorice.
Kelim looked around the room. A bottle of Fairy Wine sat on the table. Two more bottles lay on the floor. There were more empty bottles on a shelf.
“Are you going to help me?”
“Why should I?”
“Because!”
“Arrogant little fool aren’t you?”
“I’m arrogant!”
“Yes, you are.”
“Why, you, you... you...”
“What’s in it for me?”
“What?”
“If I’m going to help you, which I might, I won’t do it for free. What’s in it for me?”
“I said I could pay.””
“In what? Bread? I can’t live on bread alone.”
“No, I got mo...”
“Money?”
Quaraun pulled a handful of gold coins out of his hip bag and threw them at Kelim, sending a shower of gold coins raining down around the Pixie.
“Take them. I have plenty. Money is meaningless to me. I have more than I’ll ever need. I’m the Grand High Emperor of the Triple Planets. I am the wealthiest king in the known universe. I don’t need your money.”
“What do you want?”
“Your soul or head. Both or either.”
“I...”
"Do you even know what love is?"
"Of course I do!"
“Do you have any idea how many horny men come to me, thinking they want love, begging for love, pleading for love, when all they really wanted was to shove their dick up her skirts? Once they are done fucking her, they'll dump her and leave her, ain't got no more use for her once they've emptied their aching balls into her. That's all they really wanted. They didn't care about love or commitment or forever. They couldn't tell the difference between love and lust. Why don't you cut off your balls and see if you still want her then. A love spell lasts forever, Boy. Be sure you ain't just lusting after the pretty little bitch, because you'll live to regret it if you didn't really love her and you went and cast a love spell to bind your soul to her."
"I...that's...uhm...soul...uhm...what?"
"Too much for you to wrap your mind around, Boy? You know what? I don't think you know what you want. I think you should go home, stuff your hand down your pants, relieve the tension you're feeling and see if that helps you to think more clearly tomorrow. See if you still love her, once you discover you don't need her to make your little baby factory work, you can do that all on your own, seeing how you are too good for the likes of a lowly whore."
“Do you go to whore..."
Quaraun glared at Kelim and the Pixie shut his mouth.
"Do you know what a eunuch is?”
“Uhmmm.”
“Or do you want me to show you?”
“You don’t have a...”
“No. I don’t. My dick doesn’t lead the way or control my life. So I can’t have sex. I don't have sex anyone. I repress all desires."
After a moment of silence Kelim said: "I told you I'd pay."
“You think I want money?”
“Don't you?”
“I killed a dragon.”
“So?”
“Dragon's have hoards of gold.”
“So?”
“So, I'm very likely the wealthiest person in the galaxy, not just on this stupid little planet. I can buy anything or any one I want. Except for BoomFuzzy. He's dead. You can't buy back life. I know. I tried. I sold my soul for love and then he died and now I'm alone. What price are you willing to pay for love, Boy?”
Kelim reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin.
“But I told you I can pay you.”
"You still don't get it do you? I’m not talking about money. You want to buy a love spell? Yes? Love spells are not like other magic. Most magic you use on yourself. When people come in here looking for love spells they want me to wave a magic wand over the head of their chosen one and POOF make the bitch fall madly in love with him."
"Ofelia's not a bitch!" Kelim was getting impatient and becoming offended by the Necromancer's vulgar tongue.
"Ah! We hit a nerve. You'll defend the little whore then?"
"She's not a whore!" Kelim stamped his foot, quite forgetting he was supposed to be cowering in fear at what was supposedly the most powerful wizard of all time, but the Elf both looked and talked like a prostitute and it was hard for Kelim to accept that Quaraun was anything other than insane.
“Really? Not a whore?”
“No! She's not. You are!”
“I'm a whore? And on what do you base that? My clothes? Don't judge a man by his clothes. Don't judge a book by it's cover. The most fearsome looking wizard, is always going to be the least dangerous. Nothing is as it appears, Boy. Did you pass an old woman on the way here. The one that sits under the street lamp, feeding the pigeons? Old and grey and wrinkled, with one foot in the grave. She's a whore. Did you know that? Best whore in this town. Men pay her three times what they pay the pretty, young slutty things. And you know why? She has experience. She knows how to service a man beyond his wildest dreams. Don't judge a book by it's cover, Boy. I'm no whore. Pink is my favourite colour. I like glitter. Silk feels marvellous against my skin. And I've got big testicles, pants are uncomfortable. Chafe and bruise. I prefer to let my balls swing free between my legs. I'm not a whore. I just dress in a way that is comfortable for me and pleasing to my eyes.”
“You're insane.”
“Yes I am.” Quaraun took out the wanted poster and looked at it. “Yes, apparently that's what people call me now. Quaraun the Insane. Oh dear.”
“Can we stop talking about your problems and get back to my problems?”
“You mean your whore?”
“She's not a whore!”
"Really, now? And you know this, how? Because YOU haven't fucked her? She could be fucking the whole damned town and you wouldn't know would you?"
"How dare you!" Kelim yelled. "You take that back!"
"Hmmm."
The Elf mumbled something in a squishy, slithery language, Kelim had never heard before, as he turned away and went back to the shelves at the far side of the room.
"You have a temper to you, Boy. Scared shitless of everything around you, oh, I know that feeling, scared of everything, fainting over everything. It is so hard to stay upright and awake some days..."
"Maybe you should lay off the Absinthe."
"Yes... I do drink a bit too much of it don't I?" Quaraun stared longingly at the empties bottles scattered about. "You know, none I can find is as good as the Fairy Wine BoomFuzzy made. His was different. Had more kick. I was able to get much higher with the stuff he made. The cheap stuff they sell in taverns these days, is watered down gunk. ... but, as you said. Enough about my problems. We have you problems to consider... it puzzles me, you're willing to defend a woman, whom you freely admit you do not know and cannot speak to. Fascinating. Love not lust. Ha, ha! Ready to piss your pants at the sight of an Elf in a dress, but you can be goaded. Takes love on some level to get a reaction like that, even from a coward like you."
"I love her."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Tell me how you meet her."
"What? Why?"
"If you want a spell, I need to know who I'm making it for. Every spell is different, because every client is different. I could make one potion, divide it into two bottles, give one to you and one to a Wood Elf and even though the spell was identical, you'll both get different results. How you think, what you say, where you go, what you wear, what you eat, it all effects the spell. Now tell me, how you meet her?"
"Well, it was about three months ago, in the dead of winter..."
Kelim proceeded to tell the story:
~o0o~
Kelim stepped out of the bakery into the snow covered street and looked up at the sky, breathing in the crisp, clean evening air, admiring the twinkling stars, and revealed by this rare cloudless night. There had been snow every night for the past week. It wasn’t often that the clouds disappeared in these parts. Some days it felt like it would snow forever, but tonight the village was a quiet, blissful, winter wonderland. Kelim walked home through the cobblestone streets, relishing the crunching sound of his boots in the crusty snow. The moon shone down from above, a beautiful golden halo brimming it's rim and guiding his way. The Pixie's breath billowing in white snow-like clouds around his face. It was a blistering cold night, and he had to bundle warmly and walk briskly to keep from freezing. He enjoyed the outdoors more than the stuffy indoors, no matter how cold it was.
Kelim was enjoying the night air, when suddenly a blood curdling scream pierced the silence, sending chills down his spine. Kelim froze in his tracks. After a moment, another scream shattered the night. His natural instinct as a man kicked in, and Kelim ran bravely in the direction of the women's frantic voice, his fear completely forgotten.
As Kelim ran he could hear her cries for help growing louder, and as Kelim turned a corner he saw a desperate struggle taking place. He ran closer, shouting, and for a moment the scuffle stopped, revealing a man clutching a woman tightly by her throat. In his other hand he held an object that he stuffed into his pocket too quickly for Kelim to see what it was. The woman’s eyes were wide with terror, but her air was cut off now and she couldn’t make a sound any more.
Kelim ran towards the man and bravely shouldered him out of the way, punching him in the face so hard that the villain was forced to release his grip on the poor helpless woman. The man turned and ran, disappearing into the dark.
Kelim knelt down next to the woman who was now sprawling in the snow. She was the most beautiful thing Kelim had ever seen. Golden yellow hair framed a creamy face and bright blue eyes fluttered from under thick purple lashes. He had to see her again. Kelim found he couldn’t get Ofelia off his mind. He’d been thinking about her since that night.
To Kelim's great surprise a few days later she came to work at the same bakery where he worked, however, she acted as though she did not recognize him and he had not been able to get up the courage to tell her who he was...
~o0o~
"Your natural instinct as a man?" Was all the Necromancer said after Kelim finished retelling the night he and Ofelia met. The Elf thought about it for a few minutes and then said: "Either you've exaggerated the story or you have better social skill around people other then me. Considering you can't even talk to the girl, I'm guessing you exaggerated the story. Which does make it difficult for me to gauge the sort of spell I need to make for you. I'm not a mind reader, I can't guess what you need. You have to be exact and accurate. Oh dear."
Quaraun shook his head and meandered aimlessly around the cabin. The story had unnerved him. He knew Kelim was lying about what had happened.
“Well?”
“Well?”
“Are you gonna make me the spell or not?”
“What are you prepared to offer in exchange for her affection, Boy?”
“I have money...”
“I don’t want money. I don’t require money. I don’t crave money. I don’t need money. I’m a wizard, with a dragon in my pocket. Boy, any time I need something, I can make it appear out of thin air. Or make the money I need to buy it with, appear out of thin air. Money is useless to me, besides I’ve already told you I own a dragon. I have a dragon’s hoard of gold to go with it. Money has no real value. I’m seven hundred and fifty years old. I’ve seen nations rise and nations fall. Countries that were born in my youth don’t even exist today. Already plundered and destroyed. They mint new coins. Currency in one nation is no good in another nation. Gold coins here. Bronze coins their. Silver coins in that country. Cowrie shells in one country. Wampum is currency just a few miles from here. Head north a short ways and whale tusks are what they use. I’m a traveling merchant. A peddler of cloth. A wizard for hire. I travel the world. I have coins and notes and currency from every corner of the globe. And none of anything that has any value in one region has the same value in another region. Money is pointless. Money is useless. Paying me with money is like paying me with nothing.”
Quaraun placed everything he had taken off the shelf, back on the shelf. He plopped himself back down on the throne.
It was clear that Quaraun was suddenly angry. Kelim did not know why the Elf was angry. Kelim was unaware that Quaraun was the ‘girl’ whom had been attacked. Thus, Quaraun knew for a fact that Kelim was lying about meeting and rescuing Ofelia.
“What, besides money, do you have to pay me with?”
“I...uhm...”
“You do like your uhms don’t you?”
“Ahhhh...”
“Ah is not that much different from uhm.”
“What...how...how do people normally pay you?”
“I’m a Necromancer.”
“I know that.”
“And?”
“And?” Kelim felt confused again, like he had missed part of the conversation.
Quaraun sighed and shook his head.
“Do you even know what a Necromancer is?”
“Well, you’re a wizard.”
“Yes. And?”
“And what?”
“And, what does a Necromancer do?”
“Well, you do, like, magic and stuff.”
“Magic and stuff, oh dear; yes.”
Quaraun rested his chin on his hand, half covering his lips with his long jewel clawed gold plated, armored finger. An index finger resting on the tip of his pointy nose. He stared off into the distance, past Kelim and out the window behind him.
“Are you telling me that you came to a Necromancer for help, without even knowing what a Necromancer is?”
“You’re a wizard.”
“A Necromancer is a specific type of wizard. We do specific types of things. We use specific ingredients which other mages don’t use. We cast specific types of spells other mages don’t touch. We require specific payment methods not required by other mages.”
“So?”
“Kelim. I’m a peddler of death and souls. I kill people. I resurrect the dead. I make Zombies and Vampires and Liches. People pay me with their souls.”
“So you work for free?”
“No. Kelim. I do not work for free. I work in exchange for souls and heads and corpses. I’m a Necromancer. I need these things for my work. They are hard to come by. I get them from my clients.”
It always bothered Quaraun whenever he came across a potential victim, er, client, who wasn't familiar with necromancy. Evil though his practice may be, Quaraun himself wasn't evil enough to take advantage of an innocent young boy who had no clue what he was getting himself into.
Quaraun sighed again, "Tell me, Boy, what do you know about me?"
"Well, you're a Moon Elf and...and...you...and...you dress funny."
"I dress funny?"
"Well, yeah...look at you."
"Please don't state the obvious. What did you know about me before you came here and saw what I looked like?"
"Findaru says you killed Gibedon."
At the mention of Finderu's name, the Necromancer turned his cold eyes towards Kelim, but otherwise didn't move.
"He says your family died, murdered, and you went insane and took up necromancy to avenge their killer. He says you are a really dangerous person and to keep away from you, that you’d stab your best friend in the back for a price. Everyone in the village is terrified of you. They're even more scared of you than they are Findaru. They are more scared of you then they were of Gibedon. They say you killed Gibedon."
"You said that already."
"Did you?
"Kill Gibedon? Yes. I did. I still have his head if you'd like to see it."
“His...head?”
“I keep the heads of all my victims.”
"Are you...evil?"
"Evil is a matter of perspective now isn't it?"
"Is it?"
"No one sees himself as evil. Think about it. Most of the world thought Gibedon was evil. Villagers hired many brave warriors to fight Gibedon and they all failed, didn't they? Gibedon killed every one of them. And therefor Gibedon was evil. But, how do you think Gibedon felt? He didn't go out looking for trouble, now did he? The warriors came to his house and attacked him. He only killed them in self defence. To Gibedon it was the warriors who were the evil ones."
"Why did you kill Gibedon if he wasn't evil?"
"Oh I never said he wasn't evil. Gibedon was a Necromancer, he did many terrible things."
"But why did YOU kill him?"
"He was a Necromancer, it is what I do."
"But you are a Necromancer too."
"He was competition, a former lover of BoomFuzzy's. This was once Gibedon's house, did you know that?"
Kelim shook his head.
"I was his apprentice. Did you know that in order to become a Necromancer, requires killing a Necromancer first? I absorbed his power, now I am doubly powerful. But you still have not answered my question."
"Which question was that?"
"Do you know what a Necromancer is?"
"It's an evil wizard who does black magic and works with demons and stuff in order to be more powerful that a regular normal mage type of wizard."
"Hmmmm... no... demons have nothing to do with necrom...” Quaraun stopped and stared at the Pixie. Pixies were stupid and trying to explain anything to them was pointless. “Close enough. I suppose a more appropriate question would be, how do you think someone would go about paying a Necromancer?"
"Uhm...kind of like, I don't know, you keep mentioning souls, so I suppose a selling your soul type of deal, maybe."
"Ah! So you do know something! Not totally and completely stupid. Marvellous!"
Quaraun suddenly sounded quite pleased. He leapt up from the throne and swooped back over to the shelves of odds and ends and once again began taking things down.
"You want something from me, I need something of value from you. Your soul will do nicely. But you must remember you are losing a piece of yourself. Forever. Sell your soul to the great beyond. Never to have it back. Are you willing to do that?"
Kelim backed towards to door, this suddenly felt wrong.
"Can I think about it?" Kelim asked.
Quaraun turned to look at the Pixie. "Second thoughts?"
"Well, uhm, maybe... maybe you were right, the whole, you know, maybe I just want to get laid and it's not really love, and but my soul, kind of... uhm.. I can't get that back once I lose it, can I?"
Quaraun shook his head, and silently mouthed the word: "No."
“Never?”
“Never?”
The Elf shook his head again.
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure.”
“Can you sell half a soul?”
“Yes. You can. But I don't recommend it. You need both halves of your soul. I know. I'm missing half of mine. I was in love once. I sold my soul for love. But I was young and foolish and didn't know what I was really doing.”
“You sold your soul?”
“Yes. I wanted to love him forever. I wanted him to love me forever. And the spell worked. It did exactly what it was told to do. I love him forever. I'll never stop loving him. And I'll never know peace. Or joy. Or happiness. Because he's dead. We still love each other. We always will. But his soul wanders the Valley of Death and mine the world of the living and I long for death, that we may again be together, but he was evil, so evil. I didn't know. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to believe. His soul burns for eternity of torment. And I am not yet evil enough for my soul to go to the same place his did. I long for death to be with him again, but if I die now we'll be separated forever. I must become as evil as he was, in order to go to the same place he is, when I die. I wasn't careful with what I wished for, Boy. I wanted us to love each other forever. And we do. Oh we do. But now he's a Lich. He has no physical body. We can not consummate our love. I lust for his physical touch. The warmth of the flesh that he no longer has. I must correct this. I misworded my wish. I got exactly what I wished for and wishes once granted can't be undone. I became a Necromancer, just for that reason. To resurrect my BoomFuzzy. Bring him back, that we may share our beds again.”
“Wait. You bed with other men?”
“Yes.”
“But aren't you...”
“Also male? Yes.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I don't like women, Boy. That's just the way I am.”
"But, what about your wife?"
"My wife?"
"Yes."
Quaraun burst out laughing.
"Why my wife, of all people?"
"You loved your wife?"
"Did I? I murdered my wife."
"Your whole thing is love. Everyone knows that."
"Love, yes. Wife, no."
"What do you mean?"
"I killed my wife. I couldn't stand the bitch. I hate females."
"But..."
Quaraun pulled the wanted poster out again, handed it to Kelim.
"Do you know what that word there means?"
The Elf pointed to buggery and sodomy.
"No."
"My lover, BoomFuzzy, the one I mourn, was a male, like myself."
"But how do you..."
Quaraun took the poster back.
"I'd rather be a female, then make love to one."
Quaraun shook his head.
"You want me to remake the potion?"
"Why didn't it work?"
"It did work. But I am a Wizard of the Di'Jinn order, my spells are activated by words. You must choose your words carefully. The spell will do exactly what you tell it to do. You told it to make her love you as much as I loved my wife, but I hated my wife. It was an arranged marriage that I wanted no part of. She didn't love me either. She had her lovers, I had mine. We lived together for show. I'm royalty, you know. My father was the king's younger brother. Everyone was expected to have the perfect family in public. My is not the one I loved, nor is she the one I mourn. She was a spiteful bitch and she drove my lover to suicide, so I killed her."
“But how... how...” The thought of two men having sex, confused and baffled Kelim who had never considered such a possibility before. “How can you... with.. I don't understand... how?”
“You've already determined I look and dress like a woman. I liked being fucked like one too.”
“You... like... you... you... you really are insane aren't you?”
“That seems to be the going opinion.”
“Do you... uhm...” Kelim stammered for several moments. “Uhm.. uhm...”
“I'm not a mind reader, Boy, spit it out.”
“You're the one that poster is about, aren't you?”
Quaraun pulled out the wanted poster.
“You mean this one? Yes. That would be me.”
“You're a sodomite.”
“Yes. I am.”
“And a rapist.”
“No. That part is wrong. I'm a virgin. I've never fucked any one. I can't. I'm a eunuch. You don't have be scared of me, Boy. I wouldn't do that you even if I could. I never had an interest in fucking anything or anyone, even back when I could.”
“Are you castrated?”
“Not entirely, but that's what they were trying to do. I'm damaged. Badly scarred and can't get erect. I get pleasure from being being fucked by other men, not by fucking them.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Let other men fuck me?”
“Yeah.”
“I'm a wizard of the Di'Jinn order. I took a vow of celibacy. I fuck nothing, but my vows said nothing about letting other men fuck me.”
“I don't think I wanted to know that.”
“You asked. I answered. Don't ask questions you don't want answers too.”
“So the whole love thing people say about you...”
“I about King Gwallmaiic. The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Not my wife.”
“Oh.”
“I'm a Wizard of the Di'Jinn Order, you might do well to learn what that means. You want a Di'Jinn Wizard casting a love spell on you? Ha! I don't think you even know what a Di'Jinn is. What we do. Our spells aren't cheap."
"I said I'd pay..."
"I said I'm not talking about money, Boy. Every action has a reaction. Every spell has consequences. Magic's not a game. Not a toy. And neither is love. The price is very high, and you'll get EXACTLY what you wished for, whether what you wished for is what you wanted or not."
"I want her to love me."
"Love you? Heh. Yeah. I can make her love 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."
“Are you gonna take my soul?”
“Only if you are willing to give it to me.”
“What if I change my mind?”
“You are uncertain what you want. You should not sell your soul if you have any hesitation.”
“Are you telling me not to sell my soul?”
“I'm telling you the choice is yours. I'll not make up your mind for you. But once you've done it, it's done. There's no going back. You must be absolutely 100% sure this is what you want.”
“How do I know you won't trick me.”
“I'll not take advantage of you, Boy. You are even younger then I was when I sold my soul. I'll give you the chance to back out, the chance I wasn't given, the warning no one gave me. If you really want this spell, I will do it, but think about it first, Boy. Don't make a rash decision that'll you'll regret later. I don't regret selling my soul. I regret that I didn't write the wording of the spell more carefully. More specifically. In more detail. With more specifics as to what exactly I wanted to happen.”
“But if I want it bad enough, you'll grant my wish, right?”
“If you want it bad enough that you are willing to give me your soul, yes. I'll grant your wish. Just remember: I am a wizard of the DiJinn Order, I'll grant your wish exactly as you word it, so make sure the words you use, mean exactly what you think they mean and can't be used to mean anything else. Think about what are you are asking for. What it'll do to you. No matter why you do it, selling your soul, is something you'll live to regret. Even if you sell your soul for love. I know.”
“You sold your soul?”
“Yes, I did.”
“When you were a boy like me?”
“Yes.”
“How old are you now?”
“I don't know. I've lost count. Three hundred. Or was it four hundred? I wasn't yet an adult when I sold my soul. I was only 75 years old.”
“Only?”
“I'm an Elf. As long as nothing kills me, I'll live nearly forever. It's why Humans think of us as deity and call us Angels. At 75 I was just an adolescent youth, like you, not yet old enough to marry or raise a family, but old enough to hit puberty and be horny. Except I was horny for girls. I wasn't horny for anything until the night I was raped by the Elf Eater.”
“The Elf Eater? You mean the Lich Lord?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t a Lich Lord back than. One shouldn’t fall in love with a rapist, but I was already attracted to him before that. King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. BoomFuzzy. I loved him so much. I still do. He was everything to me. I couldn't get enough of him.”
“Do you regret selling your soul?”
“I regret a lot of things.”
“Can I ask what you sold your soul for?”
“I sold my soul for love.”
“Do you ever wish you hadn’t?”
“No. I don't regret that. For the short while we were together and we lived in glorious happiness. But it ended so soon. He died. And his death was my fault. I wished for something. Hastily. Without thinking the implications. I wasn't careful in how I worded my wish. That is my regret. If I had it to do again, I would still sell my soul for his love, but I would be more careful in the wording of the wish, because I got exactly what I wished for. I wished for our love to last forever. And it will. Because now he's a Lich. He's immortal, but undead and with no corporeal body, but he still loves me. I feel it. I feel his love. But I also feel his pain. His suffering. His torment as he walks through the Valley of Death. Trapped. He's a Lich. I'm an Elf. Our love will last forever, but we'll never get to share it physically with each other.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
“Why?”
“If you go forward with this spell, be careful with the wording. You'll get exactly what you wish for and that may not be exactly what you really wanted. Do you really, truly want to sell your soul, for the love of this girl?”
"I... I'm not sure... I..."
With a large open sweep of his arm, Quaraun waved his hand magnanimously towards the front door.
"Than, go. Leave. Forget you ever came here. You own me nothing but the time you've wasted, and I shall get that back from you eventually. I always do. Nothing comes for free Kelim, some day you'll learn that, Everything has a price. Better you learn it sooner then later. Be careful in your youth. I wasn't careful in mine. Don't make the same mistakes I did. Life is too precious to waste it."
Kelim turned and ran from the 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.
"Three months ago, in the dead of winter..." Quaraun muttered to himself as he pulled his pink velvet tufted throne out of the tiny beaded pink heart bag that hung from his belt. He sat down on the throne and stared aimlessly at the door through which Kelim had just exited.
Quaraun remembered the night Kelim had mentioned. It was the night Quaraun had first arrived in Kelim's village, and the events he remembered were quite different that Kelim had described them.
“Ha ha! His natural instinct as a man kicked in, and Kelim ran bravely in the direction of the women's frantic voice, his fear completely forgotten. Oh dear. More like his natural instinct as a liar. Ah, but that means there was another witness. He was too far away to see everything, close enough to let his male ego imagination run away with him. I wonder if he really believes he rescued her? Or did he show up after. Hmmmm. Possible. Entirely possible. I did leave. She could have been attacked again. Hum. Maybe he's telling the truth...”
THREE MONTHS AGO:
Quaraun was new to this village. He knew some of the people in The Godforsaken City, which wasn't really a city. He knew the Guild members who lived here, but he had never visited any of them before, and Quaraun had vastly changed since any of them had last seen him.
Last time Quaraun had attended a Guild meeting, he looked every bit the male Elf he was. His wife and children were still alive, but BoomFuzzy was dead.
The Moon Elves were forcing him to wear the traditional silver and blue outfits of their culture and his hair was much shorter.
That was three hundred years ago. Before he resurrected BoomFuzzy as a Lich and killed the Moon Elves.
Today no one would have guessed him to be male, not until he spoke, and even then, his voice could have been mistaken as being a female with a husky voice.
Behind the silks, the make-up, the jewellery, and the mega long hair, it was nearly impossible to tell that this was a male Elf. His having been born so short, light framed, and feminine featured to begin with made telling what gender he was all the more difficult, even when he was nude.
Quaraun was looking for Ghirardelli the Swamp Hag. He knew her swamp was in these parts, he just wasn't sure where and he wasn't keen on running into any Guild members, especially not Findaru or one of his cohorts.
The last thing he wanted was more trouble with the Guild. They already had a reward out for his head, preferably not attached to his body where it belonged.
The Guild of Wizardry, regulated the use of magic.
No one was allowed to practice magic without proper Guild membership and authority.
Special permissions, permits, and papers, documents and credentials were required to practice magic.
Quaraun didn't have any of those things.
Not that it mattered. They'd still be wanting him dead even if he did have them. Years ago, Quaraun had been a law abiding wizard and kept his papers and permits and licenses up to date, practising only the allowed magic arts, shunning the forbidden magic forms, etc. etc.
All that was before BoomFuzzy died, though.
Before the Moon Elf village was destroyed.
Before Quaraun lost his way.
Before Quaraun gave up on good, kind, helpful white magic arts.
Before Quaraun turned to Necromancy, Sorcery, and Demonology.
Before Quaraun had murdered is wife.
Before Quaraun had murdered is 4 young children.
Before Quaraun had resurected BoomFuzzy.
Before Quaraun became The Pink Necromancer.
Before Quaraun became the most feared being on the planet.
Before Quaraun became the most powerful wizard in the world.
Before Quaraun had eaten his father.
Before Quaraun becam known as Quaraun the Insane.
Quaraun’s Guild papers had expired two centuries ago.
And it had been even longer since the last time 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.
Quaraun used illegal magic to escape.
Magic the law abiding Guild members had been unable to counter.
The Guild would have had to break their own codes to do catch Quaraun.
Thus Quaraun escaped.
And now, Quaraun had wandered the world 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.
But Quaraun was in need of Ghirardelli the swamp hag, or rather, he just needed her head. He wasn't overly concerned with her body. He already had Gibedon's head. Finderu's head would be nice but, Quaraun wasn’t wanting to make more waves then he already had.
Quaraun wandered through the dark snow covered streets, ducking away from the street lights and keeping to the shadows. The fewer people who knew he was here, the better.
“A library,” Quaraun muttered to himself, surprised to find such a place in a village this small. “In a Human village? I doubt it’s owned by a Human. I never met one with enough intelligence to be able to read. I wonder what kind books they have here?”
The library wasn’t open this late at night, but that didn’t stop Quaraun from picking the lock and walking inside.
Quaraun had long ago stopped worrying about laws. What need had he to obey laws, when he was already wanted for crimes he had no intention of quitting?
Murder. Drugs. Sodomy. Sumptuary laws.
“Ha! It actually worked,” Quaraun mused as he looked at the lock. “I’ll have to remember that spell.”
Quaraun used his Rainbow Wand to light his way through the small building. It wasn’t much of a library, but it did have massive bookshelves going all the way to the ceiling, cram filled every inch with books. He was looking for magic books, especially anything on Necromancy, particularly on finding Liches. Formally a very lawful and moral aristocrat, Quaraun had long ago developed a bad habit of walking off with every book he found that he had not yet read, and as he carried a bag of holding on his belt, he had infinite room to make things disappear and not be found should he be searched. Were anyone to look in the tiny beaded heart purse, they'd find exactly 10 gold coins. Not real gold of course. Illusions only. They'd turn into brown leaves once he had had time to escape. Quaraun himself was the only person able to reach in the bag and pull out anything from furniture to weapons to his massive eye blinding pink wardrobe.
As this was the home town of the Wizarding Guild and they had a ban on Dark arts of all types, Quaraun had little hope of finding anything useful, but it couldn’t hurt to check. There could be an evil book disguised as a good book, and only Necromancers be able to see it. You could never tell about these things.
Quaraun had been so absorbed in exploring the library that he did not notice the shadowy figure slinking along behind him, stopping and waiting for the right moment to pounce.
Quaraun was coming around one bookshelf to see if there was another on the other side when he nearly bumped into the man who’d been following him.
“Oh, hello. I’m sorry,” Quaraun said quietly as he tried to duck past the man.
Humans were much bigger then Elves, and a big Human, like this was, was especially much bigger than a little Elf, like Quaraun.
“Not so fast….” the man said.
Quaraun stopped and turned, wondering if he should stop or keep going.
“Get over here,” the man commanded.
Quaraun looked around, confused, uncertain if the stranger was talking to him or not.
“I said get over here!”
“Me?”
“There’s no one else here.”
Quaraun stepped back. He felt frightened of this Human. It’s voice was mean and violent, and it's breath spent of beer.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was on my way out.”
Quaraun turned a quickly stepped towards to door.
“Oh no you don’t!” The man roared as he ran after the Elf.
The man grabbed the first thing he could reach and threw it at Quaraun, hitting him between the shoulders, causing him to stumble and fall.
“Owww!” Quaraun yelped. “What was that?”
Quaraun looked and saw a small bronze statue on the floor, which he picked up and was looking at as he spoke, instead of looking as his attacker as he should have been doing.
“That hurt! Why did you hit me?”
Quaraun started to push himself back up, prepared to yell at the man, but the stranger, suddenly grabbed hold of the Elf, lifting him up and slammed his back against the bookshelves, hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Quaraun was now confused and terrified as he didn’t know who this man was or why he was being attacked.
“Thought you could sneak off by yourself and no one would notice, eh Sweetheart?”
“Sweetheart? I ain’t your sweetheart! Who do you think I am.”
“I saw you back there at the tavern.”
“Let go of me!”
“Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be walking home alone this time of night.”
“You’re drunk. Get off of me.”
Quaraun tried to shove the man back, but this only caused the man to push himself closer to the wizard, squishing him against the books behind him.
“Bonny little thing aren’t you?” The man said as he began grouping the Elf. Quaraun suddenly realized what was going on and became frantic.
“No! Let me go!”
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 then him and far stronger.
As Quaraun continued to struggle against his attacker, the man began to kiss the Elf and as he forced his hard erection against Quaraun’s stomach. There was no question the man had mistaken Quaraun, not only for a woman, but also for a prostitute. Most men did. Quaraun had grown quite used to the way Human males reacted to his physical appearance, but he was usually better at getting away from them before they had time to get close enough to grab him. The man forced his mouth over Quaraun's and the Elf began squealing and screaming and trying desperately to push the man off of him. 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.
A sense of panicked revulsion filled the Elf as he felt the man’s excited cock pressing against him. The little Elf became frantic to get away, remembering the fact that men got really pissed off when they rammed their uninvited junk between his legs expecting a vagina and got something else entirely. They beat the crap out of him, they always did, and a tiny little Elf like him, didn’t stand much a chance against the huge hulking Human that was bearing down on him.
Quaraun managed to reach his hand up onto the man’s face and push him back a few inches.
“Let me go,” the frightened Elf whimpered.
The man laughed. “Playing hard to get are you.”
“No! I don't want to be got at all,” Quaraun squealed as he slipped out of the man's grasp and tried to run.
The man grabbed the Elf’s arm, spun him around and slammed him face first against the wall. The little pink robed wizard yelped as his jaw made contact with the wall, clashing his teeth together. Tears streamed down the Elf’s face as searing pain shot through his face. But he had no time to think about the stabbing pain in his jaw. The man was fumbling with the slippery silk skirts, pulling them up to expose the Elf's ass for fucking.
Quaraun frantically, squirmed and wriggled his way out of the man’s arms again, but this time the man punched him hard in the face, splitting his lip and sending the little Elf fallen backwards into another shelf of books. Several books fell off the shelf, landing on top of Quaraun. He scrambled to crawl away, avoiding being crushed as the tall wooden bookshelf fell on the spot when he had momentarily been.
Quaraun stood up, gasping for air and stared at the fallen bookshelf for a moment, trying not to think of how badly it would have injured him, had he not moved and then quickly ran for the door.
The Human ran after him screamed: “Get back here you dirty little whore!”
The man threw a knife. The Necromancer cried out in pain as he felt the blade sink deep into his side. The wounded Elf staggered and tried not to fall as he continued out the door and back into the streets. In his hurry to escape the man, Quaraun crashed into a young female Faerie dressed in many layers of frilly lilac coloured dresses. Both he and the woman fell into the middle of the street, nearly being hit by a passing carriage. The horse reared and whinnied, and the girl screamed as the horses hooves came down inches from her face.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Quaraun muttered in a daze as he got off the woman, scrambled back to his feet and stumbled pass the carriage to the other side of the road, leaving the woman, laying in the road. The man from the carriage, calmed his horse and continued onward, leaving the girl alone in the street as the would be rapist tumbled out of the library looking all around to see which direction Quaraun had run off to. As Quaraun ran across the next street and disappeared down the alley, the man turned his attention instead to the young Faerie whom Quaraun had run into in his hurry to escape. With one victim too far away to catch easily, the man now lunged on the next closest woman he could find.
The girl screamed as the man mounted her and prepared to rape her. The girl’s cries echoed down through the ally, vibrating off the brick walls and reverberating into Quaraun's soul.
“Oh, hell,” Quaraun muttered as he turned back. “I hate not being evil. I’m a sorry excuse of a Necromancer rescuing every female in distress.”
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 then capable of an object so small and knocked the man out cold.
Quaraun stood over the man and kicked him to make sure he was still alive, then turned to the girl.
“Are you alright?” Quaraun asked the girl.
“Yes. Thank you.”
Quaraun helped the girl back to her feet.
“I'm very sorry. He was coming after me. You were not his intended victim. He thought I was a prostitute.”
“You do look like one.”
“Yes. I know.”
“Are you an Elf?”
“Yes.”
“We don't see many Elves in these parts. They're rather rare, you know.”
“Yes. I know.”
“You’re a male Elf aren’t you?”
“Yes. I am.”
“Why are you dressed like hooker?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Do you always dress like that?”
“Yes.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I know.” Quaraun touched his lip. Blood was dripping from the cut where the man had hit him, even more blood gushed from the wound in his side, and he was trying to ignore it. Quaraun was a pure blooded High Elf and both wounds would be healed in only a few days, but the poor Elf fainted at the sight of blood. He didn’t really want to faint here in the middle of the street.
“Are YOU alright?” The girl asked, seeing that the Elf looked weak and ill and was bleeding quite profusely.
“I'm fine. I'm used to it. It happens often. I heal quickly.”
“If he thought you was a whore, why was he beating you?”
"Men get really pissed off when they ram their uninvited junk between your legs expecting a vagina and get another cock instead. They’ll beat the crap out of you. I’ve have had my arms broken 3 separate times now, my hip broken twice, my back seriously injured more then once, and several concussions since I started dressing like this, because men came after me, thinking I was something very different then what I am. Do you know that I've had false teeth put in, because I had most of the teeth in the right side of my face knocked out? Do you know how much it hurts, to be hit so hard, you lose all the teeth on one side of your face? And it wasn’t just my teeth that broke—it fractured my jaw and cheekbones. And each one of these was a separate incident. Did you know I’m nearly blind in my left eye, because one man hit me in the eye? I have to wear these claws because another man cut my fingernails off.”
Quaraun held up his hands to show the girl the gold, jewel encrusted finger armours he was wearing.
“It's a good thing I'm an Elf. Were I a Human, I'd be dead by now and scarred for life. Well, I am scarred. Not all wounds heal without a scar. Oh dear. That one wasn't done by Humans. My own father did that. I'm sorry. I'm rambling. I'm always getting beaten and stabbed and hit and punched…."
“You’re losing a lot of blood,” the girl said as she pointed to the blood pooling on the ground around the Elf’s feet.
Quaraun looked down at the blood gushing from his side and running down his leg. "And.. And... uhm... bleeding. I'm bleeding. Oh so much blood. Oh dear. I'm bleeding quite a bit ain't I? I lose so much blood, so often. So much blood. Oh dear. I'm dizzy. I'm gonna faint. I have to sit down."
Quaraun sunk to his knees and looked paler then usual.
“You sure you're okay? You're bleeding quite a lot.”
“Yes. I do that. I seem to lose blood quite easily. Oh dear. I'm too dizzy to keep going. I'll faint if I keep walking. I might have to lay down a while. I'm so dizzy.” Quaraun touched his lip again. "I'm lucky I'm an Elf and heal without scars. Men are always trying to fuck me and then beat the heck out me when they find I've got more between my legs they thought I did."
“Then why dress like that?”
“I am a member of a wizarding order and this how we dress.”
“Are you a wizard?” The girls sounded overjoyed by this news.
“Yes.”
"Oh how wonderful! I love wizards!
“Do you?”
“Oh yes! My father is a wizard.”
“Is he?”
"You must know him."
“Must I?”
“Well of course. You’re a wizards aren't you?”
“Yes, I just said that.”
“Well then you must know him. He knows every wizard.”
“Does he?”
“Of course!”
“And pray tell, why is that?”
“Why, he’s the head of the Guild of Wizardry.”
“Findaru?”
“Yes.”
“Your father is Findaru?”
“Yes.”
“Oh dear. I have such luck.”
“He’s knows healing magic. We live not far away. I’ll get him.”
“No, please don’t do that. I’ll be fine in a few minutes. I just need to rest.”
“But he can stop the bleeding….”
“No. Please. I’m fine. Sit. Please. Keep me company until my head is clear.”
The Fairy sat beside the Elf.
“So you do know my father?”
“Yes. I know him. Sort of. Or I did, many years ago. I've not been active in Guild meetings in many years. I don't live around here.”
“You should come to the house and visit then. He'll be glad to see an old friend.”
Quaraun smiled nervously and turned away.
"I did not say we were friends. He will not want to see me. No wizard in these parts will want to see me."
“Of course they will. All the wizards love getting together with other wizards.”
“I don’t work well with others. I’m solitary.”
“Even the solitaries come out to socialize every once in a while.”
“No. You don't understand. I am not welcome here. I came on business. I'll only be here an hour or two.”
“My father always wants to see every wizard. It is his job after all.”
“To regulate the use of magic. Yes. I know it is. Your father is very judgmental and strict. He does not allow many forms of magic.”
“Only dark magic and evil forms of sorcery.”
“Your father has a lot of opinions on what he believes to be evil and not everyone agrees with him.”
The girl suddenly lost her bubbling joy and began to look frightened.
“Are you evil?”
“According to your father, I am.”
“You don’t look evil.”
“I don’t feel evil, either, but your father disagrees and he wants me dead.”
“Dead?” The girl stop up and stepped back, now looking very afraid. “There are only a few wizards who are so beyond evil that they have a price on their head. You aren't one of them are you?”
“Oh, yes, I'm afraid I am. Your father had quite a high price on my head last I knew. Seems to get higher every year.”
“Who are you?”
“No one that concerns you.”
"I've never heard father mention a wizard like you. I would have remembered a pink wizard who dresses like a prostitute. And he'd've mentioned you. If he wants you dead, there would be posters and descriptions of you…."
“There are. Oh, there certainly are. I've seen hem. Read them. Not entirely accurate and sometimes too accurate. I've changed.”
“You don’t seem evil.”
“Thank you. There are not many who would agree with you.”
“I've meet evil wizards, lots of them, and you can tell in a split second they are evil. I bet if you came to see my father, tell him you changed, he'll see that you are good now.”
Quaraun smiled nervously and looked away again, his checks flushed with shame.
“I'm not what you think I am, Girl. There's no coming back from what I've done. Your father is right to call me evil. He is right to want me dead. I am evil and deserve to die. I have done horrible things.”
“What have you done that was so bad?”
“I am a murderer.”
“You killed someone?”
“I killed a lot of someones.”
“Why?”
"They were evil. They deserved to die. Oh I….I thought they did at the time. I'm not so sure any more. There was no law willing to serve them justice and so I took justice into my own hands and I used very dark magic to do it."
“Well, that's okay. Evil people get killed all the time. That's why we have so many executioners.”
“Yes, I had noticed that when I arrived. You have a great plethora of gallows in this town. And dead men hanging from the trees.”
Quaraun rubbed his hand round his throat nervously as if expecting to find a noose there.
“It makes you good if you killed evil people. My father would like that.”
“No. Your father and I have different definitions of good and evil. The men I killed, your father thought they were good people, because they killed a man he thought was evil and he will not believe otherwise. He will never believe otherwise.”
“Well, why did you kill them? I mean, what they do?”
“They locked me in a tower and tortured me. And then they hung me upside down in a tree in the centre of town, naked, for the villagers to torture me and humiliate me as they say fit. They mutilated me. The scars I still have, the ones that didn't go away. In order to heal, I need time to rest and focus on my healing, but they injured me so bad, that I was unable to heal myself and scars remain. Then they killed my family. ”
“You must have done something to be punished that way. What did you do?”
“I fell in love with the wrong person. BoomFuzzy. I am a male and so was my lover. BoomFuzzy took me into his bed and used me as though I were a woman. And I enjoyed it and let him do it, and returned often to his bed for the pleasures he provided me. They tortured me because I bedded with another male. They mutilated me, saying if I was going to act like a female, then I should be one. Now I can love no one male or female.”
“Are you a eunuch?”
“More or less. I am mostly intact, but I am badly damaged. I can receive the love of a man, but can no longer give it to anyone. I am mutilated.”
“I’m sorry.”
“If you love the wrong person, you pay the price. They hung me, upside down, by my ankles, naked, in the city square, for every one to see, for days and days. People came to beat me, whip me, torture me in every way they could imagine. All my friends, my relatives, my people, my family, my father, my wife, my children. I loved my children. They turned my children against me. They all turned on me. Every one of them. People I trusted. People I thought loved me. People I loved. They abandoned me. Turned their backs on me. Hit me in places you should never hit a man. I dare to share my love with the man I loved, a forbidden act, a crime punishable by death. My own father lead them on. He is the one who 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 every one? 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."
“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.
“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'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. Findaru will be joining you. Isn’t that marvellous?”
So, there you have it... THAT is how I write my character descriptions.
It takes an entire chapter to describe a single character, because, well, a lot of it is done in the dialogue and character actions.
You can see how an info dump is placed at the start, telling us what is needed to know about Quaraun, for the story in question. And that blends into the scene, followed immediately by the dialogue/interaction between the character and Quaraun.
More descriptors are sprinkled throughout the dialogue and said tags and narration as the story moves forward, but they are done in such a way that there is no more exposition, outside of the initial 3 page infodump describing Quaraun.
If you pay attention to the word choices, I focus a lot on adverbs (yes, adverbs) and sensory words.
Sensory word are:
As a reader, I prefer writing that is full of sensory words, words that allow the reader t see, feel, smell, hear, and taste the sights, sounds, foods, and objects in the story.
You know not only what my characters look like, you know the feel of their skin, soft and smooth or rough and dry. You smell the scent of their body: the strong smell of Absinthe Anise on Quaraun's breath, the scent of rose water in his hair, the metallic pungent smell of blood.
>>If you're part of society, you'll have some level of worry about your appearance. Showering, shaving, brushing your teeth, doing your hair. You'll probably spending a decent chunk of every day of your life looking in a mirror to see if how you want to present yourself matches how others will see you.
>>I realize I'm being a little facetious and ignoring your point, but part of being human is being self-conscious of how you look.
>>Whether a story should include that routine...
tHESE ARE SOME THINGS THAT ARE important TO TALK ABOUT, BECAUSE MOST AUTHORS ARE JACLASSES ABOUT IT.
There you go, interesting cap lock for emphasis.
Why are these things important to talk about?
Well, authors like to put them in their novels, because they do these thing, but they fail to consider that these things usually were not yet invented during the time period of the book.
Showering... an invention of the 1950s
The shower was invented in 1933, but it was created to wash cars.
It was not realized that a shower could also wash PEOPLE until 1954.
If you character SHOWERS instead of bathes any year prior to 1954, well, yo didn't do your research very well, now did you?
Showering DAILY ... invented in 1987
Yeah. If your story is set before 1987, your character should NEVER bath more than ONCE PER MONTH.
Shaving... punishable by execution in the Bible, the greatest sin possible after eating pig (#1) and murder (#2) and shaving (#3) is more of a sin then adultery (#7 on the Bible's list of the most evil sins).
Shaving... from about the 800s to 1300s, Europeans did full body shaves - including eyebrows, head, and legs... this was a sign of wealth and cleanliness - because not only did it remove hair, but it also removed lice - it meant you could afford to have lice removed - it was also a way to publicly say "Look, I don't have lice like you filthy peasants do".
Shaving... taboo in the 1800s, most men sported huge beards, even gentlemen and noblemen in spite of what the Victorian era movies show you... try looking at some real photos of men from the era.
Shaving... face for men, legs for women, did not become a fashionable thing to do until the 1920s... armpits remained unsaved til the 1950s though.
Shaving... 1970s, as a sign that you stood for Human Rights, Equality, and Peace, NO HAIR anywhere on the body was shaved. You also walked around nude in public parks just to prove your pubic hair was long enough to hide everything.
Unimportant side note: I grew up in the 1970s and I find shaved pubs repulsive on both men and women. Shaved vaginas are ugly, as are shaved scrotums. Also, I hate penises, but I love testicles and have a unabashed fetish for castrated men who have no penis but still have their balls which is WHY I wrote Quaraun that way. I also have a fetish for shaggy fur, thus why BoomFuzzy doesn't shave and he and GhoulSpawn both have lots of long shaggy fur on their legs and balls.
Too much info? You should try reading the Quaraun novels... I literally have a scene in one of them, that spends 10 full pages talking about GhoulSpawn's luxuriant ivory coloured Cotswold wool growing on his legs, belly, scrotum, ass, yeah...
You don't have to read far into ANY Quaraun novel before you realize: WOW, she likes fur covered wizard testicles.
Yes. Fur covered, unshaved wizard testicles ARE a fetish with a following.
Rule 34... there is a fetish for everything, even unshaved wizard scrotums.
I am aware that being attracted to unshaved male genitals is considered strange.
I openly admit that I like strange things, especially unshaved wizard testicles, which the Quaraun series definitely spends way to much time focusing on.
Moving on...
Brushing your teeth... the concept of tooth care was invented by Native Americans who chewed on cinnamon bark after eating. This was not discovered by white men until the "Wild West Days" in the 1830s.
Brushing your teeth... toothbrushes were only available from doctors prior to the 1980s. No you could not buy them from the store. The first toothbrush to be sold in stores, appeared in 1984.
Brushing your teeth - DAILY... was an invention of the 1990s, yes - THE 1990s less than 30 years ago - so at no era before 1994, should you ever have a character who even knows to brush his teeth daily, let alone does.
Looking in the mirror... Mirrors were invented by the Ancient Egyptians... back then a mirror was large slab of mica (a shiny rock) that was polished smooth. Have you ever owned a mica mirror? I have one. You can ALMOST make out a blurry image of your face. It's like looking through fog and expecting to see a house across the street. You can see yourself better by looking into a fast moving river.
Looking in the mirror... Mirrors with more clarity existed in the 1400s... these were made out of black obsidian (volcanic glass) that was polished smooth. Like the mica mirror, this is not what we think of today when we think mirror. What you see looks like you wearing black-face paint, and smudge badly.
Looking in the mirror...Something similar to what we think of as a mirror, was invented in the 1700s (Rococo era) and was a very think (over an inch) piece of rolled pressed glass, with a layer of (highly toxic) "liquid silver" (mercury) painted to the back of it. Only royalty could afford this lethal object... just touching it could kill you if you rubbed your hand across the silvering, thus why mirrors were put in frames, so as to protect the viewer from a horrible death by mercury poisoning. These were called Silvering Looking Glasses.
Looking in the mirror...Around the 1830s, Silvering Looking Glasses, began to be made of thinner, smaller glass, making them accessible by the upper class working citizen for the first time.
Looking in the mirror...Mirrors did not become available to the general public until the 1920s. They were still made from highly toxic mercury coated on plates of glass.
Looking in the mirror...What we today think of as a mirror... came into existence in the 1950s. So if your character is looking in a mirror at any era before the 1950s, your story is suffering from server anachronism.
Let's look at it some more...
>>Showering,
Quaraun bathes daily, sometimes more then once, in a time period when bathing was punishable as witchcraft.
In the real world 1400s Europe, people were only allowed to bath once every 6 months, when the priest came to town for a public bathing ceremony. "Cleanliness is next to godliness" and thus, is was mandatory that people bath once every six months, no more, no less. If a person refused to bath in town square in front of the priest and everyone else, they were executed as a witch, and if they were found bathing in private any time of the year, or commited the sin of bathing more then once every 6 months, they were executed as a witch.
It was a medical breakthrough, in 1957 when doctors/scientists discovered it was okay to bath as often as once a month.
In 1978, science discovered you wouldn't die of pneumonia if you bathed as often as once a week, and this gave rise to the Saturday Morning Cartoon public service campaign of celebrities like Johnny Cash and Vincent Price saying: "Now remember, kids, tell you're parents it's okay for you to bath more then once a month, it's even okay to bath as often as once a week now!"
It wasn't until 1987 that the possibility of bathing daily was thought up and it wasn't until 1994 that it began to catch on.
It's 2018 right now... 1994 was only 24 years ago.
24 years ago, people didn't know it was safe to bath daily.
24 years ago, bathing daily was seen as weird and bad for your health.
From the 1940s into the 1980s DOCTORS told people NOT to bath more than once a month, because bathing too often could make you sick.
And yet, how many authors write Medieval Fantasy showing a person bathing daily, and no other character bats an eye, and the law doesn't punish them either?
Yes, you see descriptions of Quaraun bathing daily, AND you see wanted posters that list his heinous crimes: murder, necromancy, rape, bathing daily.... yeah.
There's not much historically accuracy in the Quaraun series, but, when there is, it's done right.
The next day Unicorn watched Quaraun as he bathed himself. It always amazed Unicorn that this Elf who daily sought out a brook, pond, river, lake, or ocean to wade into and bathe himself, was also the same Elf who ran screaming from bridges, had a horrific fear of crossing water via fallen logs, avoided rain, and spent an inordinate amount of time worrying that he'd fall into puddles and drown.
“I has experienced great many sex partners,” Unicorn said to GhoulSpawn.
“I'm sure you have. I've never seen anyone who loves sex as much as you do.”
“I has never gots one that bathes as much as him do.”
“No one bathes as much as he does. His need for excessive cleanliness astounds me. It's no wonder he turns dead things into fish. I've never seen any one who was terrified of dirt before.”
“Him be so fearfully terrified of every wee lil thing. Him scared of water, but him more afreads of being dirty.”
“How does someone so terrified of water, bathe so much?”
“Ya know one of tings what makes me Elf good sex partner?”
“I doubt if I want to know, but I'm sure that won't stop you from telling me.”
“Him very clean.”
“What's that have to do with it?”
“A clean anus makes for better sex. Anal sex be painful for the bottom iffy his bottom not clean. Hims bottom be very clean.”
“There now, you see, I knew I didn't want to know.”
GhoulSpawn watched Quaraun. The Moon Elf was beyond beautiful and GhoulSpawn found himself desiring to lay with him, more and more.
“I sometimes think him gets as much pleisance out of cleaning himself, as he does out of sex.”
“Unicorn, I really and truly do wish the two of you would stop flaunting your sexuality in front of me."
“Does we do that?”
“You're
doing it right now.”
“Is we?”
“Unicorn, look at him.”
Quaraun was standing fully naked in the water. He'd finished bathing himself a half hour ago. With one hand the albino Elf stood holding a sponge over his head, letting the water squeeze out of it, raining down on his breasts, running down his stomach, and trickling over his erect dick, with the other hand he was sensually rubbing himself, sliding his hand across his smooth chest, stopping to tease his hard pink nipples, before slowly sliding down his belly to masturbate himself. He has his head back and his eyes closed, moaning to his own touch.
“I is looking at him.”
Unicorn reached into his own robes and began jerking himself off as he watched the Elf touching himself.
“Yeah, I can see that. You're both gonna be spurting soon and neither of you are even near each other. Look at what he's doing. That is not bathing. That's showing off to get you chasing after him when he gets out. He's putting on a damned performance on your account. He's knows you're watching him and he knows what it's doing to you. That's why he's doing it. He's a damn whore.”
“Aye. I is aware of that be what him doing. I educated him on how the best way to does it, eh? Him wonderfully obedient lil slut. Him love whoring himself to me. Him used to do this kind of move for BoomFuzzy. Back than I had access to me candy shop. I could get him to stand in vat of melted chocolate and him rub it all over himself, then I eat off of him. I got to lick every inch of that delightful body, feeling him squirm and wiggle beneath me. Him knew I was Elf Eater, him let me claw his flesh to make him bleed. Chocolate coated Elf blood, there is nothing like it.”
“Your sick, Unicorn.”
“Is I?”
“Listen to yourself.”
~From "GhoulSpawn and The Lich Lord's Lover" (Volume 22 of The Quaraun Series)
>>shaving,
Quaraun doesn't shave. He's an Elf. And as he puts it: A High Elf, not a Common Elf. Thus he has no facial hair to shave. His body is described as hairless.
He has his super long hair, and as Unicorn puts it "his balls are covered in apricot fuzz", but the rest of his body is hairless. There are scenes where he paints on his eyebrows, indicating he has none. There are scenes where he is gluing feathers to his eyelids, indicating he has no eyelashes either.
GhoulSpawn is described similarly... he being a half-Elf. However, from the waist down, GhoulSpawn is a sheep, and his lower body and legs are covered in thick, shaggy wool, that is described as being thick, curly, 6 inches long, and the texture of Cotswold Wool. He also has cloven hooves instead of feet and there are scenes of him polishing, cleaning, and trimming his hooves.
GhoulSpawn, also, because of his hooves, can not walk on smooth, shinny, polished, or waxed surfaces. He slips and falls on his back.
On the other hand, because of his hooves, GhoulSpawn can run on rocky terrain that trips up others. He can climb steep inclines up the side of a mountain, like a mountain goat.
Unicorn/BoomFuzzy, is described as being covered in thick black hair, that is turned grizzled grey with age. He's never shaved anything. His massive dreadlocks go past him bum, and his public hair is long enough to completely hide is genitals.
Quaraun stats in several stories that he finds a hair covered body exotic and attractive, due to his coming from a race of hairless bodies. In the case of both Unicorn and GhoulSpawn, Quaraun ignored their initial advances. In both cases it was not until seeing them naked and discovering they had unusually hairy bodies, that Quaraun became lustfully attracted to them.
Again, you don't have to read far into any Quaraun to realize, I like hairy men. A lot.
>>brushing your teeth,
It's the 1400s. No one did this yet.
GhoulSpawn is from the current future stuck in the past, he does brush his teeth, when he can find something he can do so with back in the 1400s.
>>doing your hair.
Quaraun's hair is 4 feet long at the beginning of the series. Later in the series it is 12 feet long - more than twice his body length. Doing his hairs takes 3 to 5 hours each and every day.
I am someone with bum length hair in real life, I know from experience the amount of hours it takes to care for super long hair. I've had dreadlocks since 2013 (so 5 years as of 2018) and it takes 2 hours to wash my bum length dreadlocks, and 8 hours to dry them. Before my hair was dreaded, it took 2 to 3 hours to brush it smooth every morning.
GhoulSpawn's hair, which is neon yellow and glows in the dark (because he's a Demon) comes down to his waist and while requires quite a bit of care, is far more marginable then Quaraun's hair, except that it also grows in thick woolly curls, because he's a sheep-man.
Unicorn likes to brag that he has not brushed his hair in 2,000 years. Unicorn, has massive dread locks, which are longer then GloulSpawn's hair, but not nearly as long as Quaraun's hair. Unicorn's hair is bum length, and other then washing it from time to time, he does absolutely nothing with it.
And yes, each of them, their hair does become important to the plot, thus you do see descriptions of their hair. In fact, you see A LOT of descriptions of their hair, and rarely anything else.
And to see what exactly those look like, here are a few of them:
“Yes. I was born in Quebec. But I was not raised by Elves. I grew up in Persia. In a Gypsy caravan. We raised horses and travelled across the desert to sell them in city markets. They adopted me as one of them, though I was born an Elf. My biological family abandoned me when I was just 9 years old. The Di’Jinn adopted me. Thus, how it is that an Elf came to be a Gypsy. When I was young. I was sick. I lived in the Deep North, where the snow always falls and summer never comes. My father murdered my mother and then he was going to murder me. His older brother had a friend, ZooLock, a Di’Jinn priest who was staying with him at the time."
"ZooLock?"
"ZooLock."
"Not ZooLock the Great?"
"Yes. ZooLock the Great."
"You're friends with ZooLock the Great?"
"Not exactly. I wouldn't call us friends. We know each other. But we aren't friends. I never said ZooLock was my friend. He was my uncle's friend."
"Yes. That is what you said isn't it?"
"He gave me to ZooLock, told him to take me with him, raise me as his own child. And he did. Thus, an Elf came to be adopted by the Di’Jinn. The Gypsies are my family. Not the Elves. I was happy with the Di’Jinn. I felt more at home with them, then I did my own people.”
“My understanding of the Di’Jinn is that they is an evil people. A nomadic band of criminal magic users. The Guild wouldn’t even allow them to be members.”
“That is an urban myth. Gypsies are not criminals. They are good people. They live in tents and wear bright colours, have big families. And that scares settled people."
"I suppose I can relate. Whole reason I live in the swamps is because people in the town are scared of witches and they think I'm a witch."
"Yes. Never trust settled people. I certainly don't. Settled people make up rumours. Spread lies. That doesn’t mean those rumours are true."
"Do settled people spread rumours about you?"
"Yes. They do. I live in a pink tent, travelling on foot from town to town, selling pink silk and wearing pink silk. It terrifies people. But now we are talking about me again. You keep doing that. Changing the subject to me. Are you a spy? Here to find out information about me? I’ve seen no men chase you yet. I’ve only your word on that part, now don’t I?”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t pry.”
"You're a Guild member. That means you know Finderu. It's to my advantage to not eat you."
"Eat me? Wait? What? Why would you eat me?"
"I am The Sacred Pink JellyFish. Brains are my primary diet. And it not often that brains of their own free will, willingly stroll into my lair."
"Lair? This isn't a lair, it's a tent."
"I like my privacy."
"You're kind of crazy aren't you?"
"You don't know who I am, do you?"
"Should I?"
"Everything IS pink."
"Yes. You're not joking when you say you like pink."
"Nor am I joking when I say I don't like Humans and their brains are my primary diet."
"You eat Human brains."
"Yes."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"It's YOUR ad copy."
"My... what?"
"Waited dead or alive, preferably dead. Wanted for Necromancy, Demonology, Sorcery, Black Magic, murder, rape, buggery, sodomy, cross-dressing, bathing more than twice a year, eating Human brains... you don't remember writing that about me? Printing it up on ten thousand wanted posters and than nailing it on every tree, fence post, store, and mailbox for a 14 mile radius all around The Great Portland Area of Saco Bay, even right here on York Hill, and all over the front of Pepper Valley's Pepperell Mill? On the bulletin board in the bakery. Hmmm? Forgot you did that?"
"I do that with a lot of people. We ARE Justice Mages, it is our JOB to hunt criminals. And keep tabs on everything they do. I drive all over Maine to watch them, for weeks before they get arrested."
"Yes. I know. I AM aware WHO you are. You're a vile little bitch, who makes an art out of being a nosy busy body. A slimy sneaky salamander, you are."
"I.. but, I don't recognize you as a criminal we are looking for."
"Really? Maybe you should get a better artist to draw my picture on your wanted posters than."
"I'm sorry, I don't... none of the criminals we are looking for are said to look anything like YOU."
"Yes. Your wanted posters did lack a few details, like the fact that I always, ever, and only wear pink, or my Rapunzel hair. Even if you didn't know me by my face, you SHOULD have known me the second you saw a pink silk tent. Most of the world knows me by my pink silk, and The Guild, is so incompetent that they can't even get that one simply, alarmingly identifiable fact about me straight. Or my hair. There is no mention of my hair in any of your wanted posters. Not one. You'd think some who supposedly knows me ooooooh soooooo well, that they can be a lying assed busy body gossip writing about my so-called sex life on a public wanted poster, that they should also know enough about me to know I ONLY wear pink and have twelve foot long hair."
"Is your hair really that long?"
"Yes."
"You're sitting down on the floor, I can't see how long your hair is."
"Hmmmm." Quaraun reached for the cane that was laying beside his make-shift bed of furs and used it to stand up, for the first time since, Ghirardelli had entered the tent.
The tiny, little old Elf was only five feet six inches tall, only coming up to Ghirardelli's shoulder. But his hair cascaded down around him, over his shoulders, down his back, in front of him, behind him, spilling onto the floor around him, and flowing in heaping piles everywhere.
It was impossible to see how long his hair was, but with the way it piled around his feet and scattered along the floor, it was safe to say that twelve feet was a good guess.
"Good god! Your hair really is twelve feet long!"
"Yes."
"How do you walk?"
"With great difficulty." Quaraun promptly sat back down, going down slowly and careful so as not to cause further pain to his already hurting hip. "Also, I can't stand very long. My hair is too heavy. My hair weighs more than my body does. It's very difficult for me to move unless I've someone to walk with me and carry my hair."
"Why don't you just cut it?"
"You REALLY don't know who I am, do you?"
"What difference does that make with your hair?"
"A huge difference. Mages get their power from their hair. And I'm the world's most powerful wizard for a reason: I'm the wizard with the longest hair."
"You know I never thought of that. Makes sense. Mages do all claim the longer their hair is the more powerful they are. Something about their hair attracting magic energy force fields of something. But yeah, if that was true, than the world's most powerful wizard would diffidently be the wizard with the longest hair."
“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?"
"Yes, jelly."
"I like jelly."
"Also, corn. Carrots. Potatoes. Green beans. Blueberries.”
“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...”
“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?”
“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 have 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’m not insane. 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?”
~Kelim and The Necromancer
"Worms!" Quaraun gasped.
Unicorn looked to see what Quaraun was looking at.
Worms.
A squirming knot of worms.
Twisting.
Wriggling.
Writhing.
Squirming.
Quaraun stared at the worms, then turned and ran out of the room. Unicorn followed after him and found the Elf vomiting his guts out.
"Hetushki! Oho! Was it the worms or the opium?" Unicorn asked as he watched the Elf puke.
"Both," Quaraun gasped as he staggered back to the building. "I don't like this place."
"Well, it what we gots." Unicorn's protective hand pulled Quaraun beside him, then pressed the Elf closer. "Ya is so frail of late."
"I'm always frail," Quaraun whimpered. "I'm a weak, cowardly, frail, runt. The Moon Elves were right. I'm pitiful and worthless."
"Fudger Fluffer Nutters. Ya is no worthless. Pitiful, maybe, but never worthless."
"I don't like it here."
"Well dick brains. Ya wants to keep walking, th'ough dense forest at night?"
"No. I just wish we weren't alone in this place."
Just then there was a crackling zap across the ceiling, followed by flashes of lightning blue streaks dancing in the air, followed by a great black hole opening up and a half-Elf, falling, flailing, screaming as he dropped out of the sky and landed on the floor in front of them. The instant he hit the ground, the black hole closed up and vanished as if it had never been there.
"Owwww," the yellow haired Sun Elf moaned as he held on to his head as if warding off a headache.
"Fuu-uuuck! What was that?" Unicorn stood up and stared at the spot where the hole had been. "Oh well, moving on.. don't mind me as I... what the hell where did ya come from?!"
Unicorn stared down at the half-Elf sprawled on the floor in front of him.
"Are you alright," Quaraun asked GhoulSpawn as he helped the dazed Sun Elf to his feet.
"How did that happen?" GhoulSpawn asked as he pushed away from Quaraun and stood with his head tipped back, staring up at the spot in the ceiling where he had just fallen out of. "Where am I? Arrgh. Move!"
GhoulSpawn scrambled to crawl away, and Unicorn looked up to see why the half-Elf saw, then grabbed Quaraun and pulled him away, just as the familiar bright orange metal flake 1974 AMC Gremlin came crashing down, landing on all four wheels in the spot they had just been.
The half Sun Elf turned to Quaraun and asked again: "Where am I?"
"I don't know," Quaraun said, shrugging his shoulders. "We aren't sure where we are. We were running away from a giant turtle and ended up here."
"Giant... turtle? How did I get here? What is that?" GhoulSpawn pointed to ZooLock.
"That's a Thullid," Quaraun said.
"A what?" GhoulSpawn stared at the puce purple pleco eyed, octopus headed, tentacle beast sitting chained to the wall.
"A Thullid. That's ZooLock the Great."
"He's... in chains."
"Yes. He keeps trying to run away."
"Oh. How did I get here?"
"Where were you before?"
"At work. At Rapid Ray's. Pepperell Square."
"Pepper Valley?"
"Yeah. I think that's what you called it before."
"That's where we are right now."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I don't think you've move locations. Just time periods."
"How? What year is this?"
"I don't know," Quaraun said, shrugging his shoulders, though he suspected he had just wished GhoulSpawn here.
"I was... and now I'm... what? ... how...." the dazed and confused half-Elf spun around several times looking at everything and everyone in the room, through his very wide, very frightened lime yellow green eyes.
The room was dark, only a couple of candle lights lit, and GhoulSpawn's long frizzy sheep's wool afro hair was glowing a vivid fluorescent yellow, as were his eyes.
"How does ya glow like that?" Unicorn asked.
"What?"
"Ya hair and ya eyes. We can use ya for a lamp post!"
"GhoulSpawn reached up and put both hands on the top of his head.
"Oh! I forgot about that!"
He closed his eyes and opened them again, this time his eyes were a more normal shade of hazel nut flecked with brilliant green, but his ivory Cotswolds sheep wool hair was still glowing. The demonic Elf twirled his long glowing yellow curls on his finger.
"Oh dear!" He muttered as he stared mournfully at the glowing strand of hair around his finger. "Not much I can do about that. You don't want me on a stake out or any where you need to hide from a killer. I'm sorry. I glow in the dark. I probably should have mentioned that at some point."
"Well, join the club!" Unicorn laughed, slapping the half Elf on the shoulder. "So does he."
Unicorn pointed to Quaraun.
"Do you?" GhoulSpawn turned and asked Quaraun.
"Yep. Only not just my hair. My whole body. I light up like up a Christmas tree every time it's a full moon. I'm a Moon Elf. It's why they call us Moon Elves."
"Ah. I'm a Sun Elf. My hair glows at night if I stay out in the sun light too long during the day. It's why they call us Sun Elves."
"You're eyes were glowing too," Quaraun said. "I've never seen an Elf with glowing eyes."
"Oh, that, yes. I'm only a half-Elf."
"I never saw a Human with glowing eyes either."
"Human? Oh. No. I'm not... I... Human," GhoulSpawn tried to think of an explanation to why his eyes were glowing. One that didn't involve him telling strangers he was a Demon. But he couldn't think of a good lie off the top of his head. Lying wasn't something GhoulSpawn was good at or used to doing.
Quaraun waited patiently for the half-Elf to get his story straight inside his head.
"Humans don't... no. That won't work," the half-Elf continued to mutter to himself. "My hooves... No. That's not right either. Oh dear."
GhoulSpawn was absolutely terrible at lying. Quaraun smirked as he watched the poor half-Elf try to come up with a lie.
"And," Quaraun said, to farther disrupt the poor half-Elf's train of thought. "You seem to be able to control it. Humans can't do that either."
"Humans... can't..." GhoulSpawn said slowing. "My eyes glow... Humans don't have ... glowing..."
Quaraun shook his head.
"Oh! I know!" The half Elf exclaimed cheerfully, as he thought of an answer that didn't involve him admitting to being a Demon. "I'm a Chaos Wizard. We can do that."
"You forgot you was a wizard?" Quaraun asked.
"What?"
"You're lying to me."
"No I'm not."
"You had to stop and think about your answer before answering me."
"No I didn't."
"It took you three minutes to think up an excuse."
"No it didn't."
"Aye, it did," Unicorn agreed. "Yis a bad liar."
"I'm sorry," GhoulSpawn muttered.
"For what?" Quaraun asked.
"I don't know," GhoulSpawn said, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm not... I don't... people make me nervous. I'm not used to talking. No one ever talks to me. They're usually too busy kicking me."
"Kicking you?" Quaraun asked, now sounding sympathetic. He hated to see anyone abused. "Who kicks you?"
"Elves. I'm a half-Elf. I'm not a viable member of society. My cloven hooves make it difficult for me to run on smooth floors, and then I fall and can't get back up because my hooves slip. Valuable. I'm not a valuable member of society. I don't deserve to live."
"It that what the Elves around here tell you?"
"The Sun Elves. Yes. They are High Elves. Highest High Elves on the planet, after the Moon Elves." GhoulSpawn suddenly looked scared. His eyes darted nervously around the room looking for a means of escape. "You're a Moon Elf."
"I am, but I won't hurt you. I have nothing against half-Elves. I'm not like other Moon Elves."
"The Sun Elves are dead."
"Are they?"
"I'm the last one."
"You're a half-Elf."
"I know. I'm unworthy."
"Don't say that."
"It's true."
"You're value doesn't decrease based on someone else's inability to see your worth."
"No one cares about a half-Elf. The High Elves want us dead, the Wild Elves don't care about anything at all, Faerie eat us, Humans usher us off into reservations and concentration camps, Demons don't want..." GhoulSpawn stopped himself before he said too much. "I'm not welcomed anywhere."
"I know the feeling," Quaraun said.
"Do you? You're a full blooded High Elf. Purest blooded Elf on the planet if the rumours about you are true. You are a result of hundreds of generations of sibling marriages."
"I am. That part of the rumours is true at least. I'm the Elf all other Elves strive to be, blood-line-wise. In everything else they can't be as far from like me as possible."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm a Necromancer. I dress like a she-Elf. I murdered my family. I have non-Elf friends. I don't hate half-Elves. I like getting my ass fucked by male Faeries. Most Elves count those things against me and say it makes me the evilest Elf to ever live. I'm a disgrace to Elfdom. I'm worse then a half-Elf. I'm a waste of a perfect blood-line. Chin up, GhoulSpawn, there's worse things in life then being born a half-Elf. You could have born a Demon."
GhhoulSpawn shuddered at the High Elf's words.
"But," Quaraun continued. "One can't help what you are born as. It's your parents fault, not yours. It's not like you chose to be a half-Elf. And who am I to judge? I've been judged enough in my life to know how much it hurts to be on the receiving end of that judgement."
"Do you not like Demons?" GhoulSpawn asked.
"Demons?" Why do you ask about Demons?"
"You said there was worse things in life to being born a half-Elf. You said I could have been born a Demon. You're voice was filled with contempt when you said the word Demon."
"Was it?"
"Aye," Unicorn said, agreeing with GhoulSpawn. "It was. One would t'inks from ya tone of voice, ya hated Demons."
Quaraun looked over at ZooLock and sighed.
"No. I don't hate them," he turned back to GhoulSpawn. "I just having one raising heck in my life right now, so I'm currently annoyed with Demons, is all. I grew up with Demons, you know. Him in particular."
Quaraun tossed a thumb back over his shoulder in ZooLock's direction.
"He's in chains," GhoulSpawn said mournfully, as if he expected Quaraun would put him in chains along side ZooLock.
"Yeah. He is. But only because he kept me in chains for thirty years. I thought he'd like a piece of his own medicine."
"If another Demon were here, would you put him in chains too?"
"No. No reason to. Not unless he gave me a reason to. I'm a Thullid too, you know."
GhoulSpawn stared wide eyed at Quaraun.
"Are you? You don't look it?"
"Jelly Thullid, not Squid. I'll never hatch out of this Elf's head, like he did out of his Elf's head." Quaraun again looked in ZooLock's direction. Then turned back to GhoulSpawn. "Techchally that makes me a Demon myself, now. Quaraun the Elf is dead. He's been dead for a few hundred years now. Quaraun the Thullid, lives on in him place, replicating the Elf's habits and mannerisms and living inside his hollowed out skull."
"So in a way," GhoulSpawn stated. "You're a half-Elf, half-Demon?"
"Unfortunately, yes, that would be the case. I wasn't given a choice in the matter. My Jelly body was captured by ZooLock here, as was my Elf body. He forced my Jelly body inside of this poor Elf's brain. Once inside I couldn't get out. I was faced with starving to death and letting the Elf live, or eating his brain and taking full control of his body in order to stay alive. I chose to live, and so the Elf died and I'm a female Demon trapped in the body of a male Elf."
"Is that why you dress like you do?"
"Yes. Technically I am female, so I dress female."
"But you use male pronouns."
"Yes. The Elf has a male body. Male reproductive organs. Male boy parts. He used male pronouns when he was alive. I honour his choice in that by continuing to use male pronouns for him, even though I am myself female."
"That's very complicated."
"Yes, well, ZooLock could have put me inside a female Elf and made it less confusing for me, but what's done is done, there's no changing it now. I'm a female Demon trapped in the body of a male Elf. And nothing I can do about it. It is what it is."
GhoulSpawn crept close to ZooLock to get a better look at the strange squid prist and immediately the Thullid began screaming and trying to escape.
"What is your problem now?" Quaraun asked.
"Please! If you value all that is holy, keep GhoulSpawn and the Gremlin away from me. I must never touch either. The space time continuum depends upon it."
"What are you talking about?"
"I can not explain. I dare not explain."
"The Gremlin?" GhoulSpawn asked. "Does he mean my car?"
"No," Quaraun answered, looking back at the orange AMC. "He means the future version of you."
"Me?"
"You from the future was here earlier with some warning about not going into that village up ahead."
"And I called myself The Gremlin?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Apparently at some point you became infected with a Thulid larvae and changed your name to distinguish the Thullid from the dead half-Elf 's corpse that was your host."
"You mean I was dead, like you?"
"Something like that."
~ Summoner of Darkness
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."
~ Summoner of Darkness
“Finderu the Masked," Quaraun said. "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?” BoomFuzzy asked.
“I am. But their meetings are boring. They talk about things I don’t understand.”
“What does ya no understanding?”
“Mathematics. Science. Equations. Star charts. Planetary movements. Religion. Philosophy. Theology. They write up rules and vote on laws. It’s all dreadfully dull and boring. I can’t understand how to use numbers. I don’t know 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 cropped 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.
“My father cut it off. I’m not happy about it.” Quaraun choked back the tears as he said this. He had even greater trouble choking 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. ZooLock. 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?”
~ BoomFuzzy
Quaraun was walking unsteadily, leaning heavily on a long staff like branch he was carrying with him, walking with one hand outstretched and grasping hold of each tree as he passed them. It looked to Unicorn, as though Quaraun was hurt and having trouble standing on his own. The Elf was limping badly and seemed to have trouble keeping his feet on the ground very long, continually picking them up in a strange hopping limp, indicating his feet were very sore. Unicorn watched the Elf as he gingerly made his way to the brook, continuing the entire way in this slow awkward hopping, limp. It was obvious to Unicorn that Quaraun was injured, but he was uncertain as to how.
Quaraun didn't quite look himself, and that part bothered Unicorn quite a lot. Quaraun's long ground sweeping white hair was messy and tangled, was hanging lose unstyled, unwashed, dirty, and clearly had not been brushed in many days. He was not wearing the many dozens of earrings that usually dangled from his long thin ears. His foot long pointy ears, normally pert and held high and proudly over his ear, were laid back, drooping, and gave Quaraun the appearance of being very scared and oddly lacking in the air of arrogance that he normally had. He also was not wearing any make up. The pink dress he was wearing was one of his more simple ones, a kimono, tied loosely over a caftan, both of which were ragged and dirty and did not appear to have been changed in several days. The gold plated finger armour that normally protected his sensitive damaged fingers, was also missing.
The Elf looked thin. Quaraun was already underweight. A scrawny little Elf that could definitely stand to eat a little more,more often, but now he was worse off then before. His face looked hallow. His body was trembling, his skin pulled tight across the bones, his eyes bulging. Unicorn had never seen Quaraun look this ill before. The poor weak Elf looked as though he was half starved. This confused Unicorn greatly, for Quaraun had only gone missing, seven days ago. It was not possible for such a drastic transformation in health to occur in so short a time.
Unicorn watched the frightened, scraggly looking, sick Elf as he gingerly limp-hopped his way to the brook. It looked as through it was taking every once of strength he had in him, just to pull himself those few short feet. His breathing was heavy and laboured. He looked dazed and confused and very, very scared.
Something had happened to Quaraun. Unicorn knew it. Something very bad had happened to his Elf. Unicorn had never seen Quaraun even let a hair get out of place before. For the poor Elf to look so dishevelled and sick and hungry, something very bad much have happened to him.
~ Summoner of Darkness
Early morning pouring rain kept them from travelling early this day. It was now mid morning and the rain had stopped. The undergrowth of the forest was tall and thick. Wild swamp asters and five foot tall cinnamon ferns, hung soggily over the path. The bows of spruce and fir hung down, weighted by the crystal water droplets that clung to their fragrant evergreen needles. Between the brush below and the branches above it was hard to tell where the path was now.
"I'm gonna get soaked," Quaraun complained as he stood surveying the after effects of the storm. "My hair is wet."
"Tis water," said Unicorn. "Tis not gonna hurt ya."
"Listen to all those frogs," BeaLuna changed the subject. She didn't really want to spend another day listening to the Elf gripe about the rain in his hair.
"Singing choruses of praise and worship to the rain," said Unicorn. "Thanking her for blessing them with the bountiful abundance. Without rain there would be no life. Every thing would dry up and die. Frogs know to be thankful for the rain. Why can ya not be more like a frog, Quaraun, eh?”
"There must be hundreds of them," BeaLuna said.
"Thousands," answered Unicorn. "In a woods this size, tens of thousands. There'll be dozens in every tree. More hiding in the moss below. Clinging to the ferns. Bobbing in the water. This forest is ripe with frogs."
"You sound like someone who knows a lot about frogs."
"He is someone who eats frogs, and uses frogs in his magic," said Quaraun. "An Illusionist can only do just so much with hypnotism and slight of hand. The primary danger of dealing with a powerful solitary Fae is their mastery of poisons, Especially frogs and mushrooms. It's part of why they live in deep forests. That's where the frogs and mushrooms are. Faerie Food is made of poison mushrooms, fogs your mind and makes you see and hear anything the Faerie wants you to see and hear. It is why one must never eat Faerie Food."
"And frogs and mushrooms like damp wet places," added Unicorn. "Ya can tell how much rain a forest gets by the size of it trees. This forest gets a lot of rain. Sooner or later, ya, Quaraun, are going to get wet."
After four or five hours of traipsing through the wet forest, and listening to Quaraun gripe about his wet clothes and wet shoes and wet hair every step of the way they came to a small brook.
"There is no bridge", Quaraun said.
"Does not need one, Quaraun," said Unicorn. "Tis all of five feet wide and barely two feet deep. Even I can sees that. We just walks across it, eh?"
"And get wet."
"Oh bollocks, Quaraun, yis walking through high bushes un low branches after a rain storm. Yis already wet."
"I will ruin my shoes, if I walk through that!"
"Oh me lil white Sugar Plumkins, where ya get these fool ideas in ya head for? Quaraun, yis such a sissy! Take yar shoes off. Water ain't going to hurt yar feet."
"My hair will get wet!"
"Cut ya fucking hair un it will no drag in mud."
"I'LL NOT CUT MY HAIR!"
Bullgaar looked at Quaraun's long hair, still touching the ground, even with it folded up on his head in layers of looped pigtails. "Has him ever cut his hair?" The Dwarf asked.
"Once," Unicorn answered. "His father cut it. Shaved it right off."
"And what'd Pansy do than?"
"He killed his father."
"Killed him?"
"I ate that fucking bastard!" Quaraun snarled. "And I'll eat you too if you dare touch my hair!" Quaraun pulled out his wand and was now aiming it at the Dwarf's face. "Touch my hair and kill you!"
Bullgaar backed away from the enraged Pink Necromancer.
"Just step across, Quaraun," Unicorn said quietly. "No one's going to touch your hair."
"I don't like getting wet."
"Tis water Quaraun, just water. Ya cook with it, ya drink it, ya bath in it."
"You drown in it."
"Quaraun! Tis not going to hurt ya! By the gods! Do no tell me yis scared of water too? Is there ANYTHING ya ain't scared of? For crying out loud! Ya're supposed to be a Necromancer. Do ya even know what a Necromancer is? Big, bad, evil, blood, guts, and dead things...
Yis scared of big.
Yis scared of bad.
Yis scared of blood.
Yis scared of evil.
Yis scared of guts.
Yis scared of dead things.
Yis scared of spiders, and frogs and bats and milk of all things. Milk. How does someone get scare of milk? Yis wearing pink. And it no just pink. It be PINK! And it be a woman's dress. I hae yet to sees ya do anything even remotely necromantic. Ya've been complaining like a lil girl for past three hours. Ya might break a nail. Oh the horror! The wind might blow yar hair out of place and then we'll hae to stop and wait three freaking hours while ya brush it. Again. You might get yar shoes wet. Heaven forbid ya get yar dress dirty, out here in the great big wild wilderness. And now yis telling me, that on top of all that, yis scared of water, eh?”
"Yes."
Quaraun felt ashamed.
"I could throw him across," volunteered Bullgaar as he pulled thoughtfully on his long braided beard.
"Don't you dare touch me!"
"How does ya plan to get across, eh?” asked Unicorn. "There be no bridge because there be no need for one. Just walk across. Tis not going to kill ya."
"No!"
"Then what is ya gonna do?"
"I know," said BeaLuna. "He's going give up, turn around, and change direction. Like he always does every time we try to go to Fire Mountain. What is this? The fourth, fifth, sixth time we've headed for Fire Mountain. We haven't gotten there yet. We are literally walking in circles."
"This is a forest," Quaraun stated. "There are trees. They fall down. If we follow the brook far enough, there has got to be one across it."
"Fine," sassed Unicorn. "Pick up yar hair and lead on."
They didn't have to go far before they found such a spot and ran into more trouble.
"It's wet," said Quaraun, staring at the fallen tree.
"Oh by the gods," cried Unicorn. "Now What? Ya've found yar tree. Now what is we stopping for?"
"It's wet."
"Tis a tree laying across a brook. Tis supposed to be wet."
"And there are mushrooms growing on it."
Unicorn looked down at the fallen maple tree. The entire upper side of it was covered with clumps of small velvety mushrooms which resembled goat's ears. Not that he could see them, but if Quaraun said they were there, he believed him.
"Oh, me sweet lil Pink Sugar Plum of an Elf, explain to me, what is problem, because I do no sees it."
"You're blind, you don't see anything."
"I ain't completely blind. Not yet. I can sees the log un the mushrooms on it, sort of. Almost. But I do not sees why ya will no just walk across it."
"It's wet and there are mushrooms on it. "
"Bollocks! There are mushrooms on it because tis wet. Tis wet because there be brook here. What the fricking problem?"
"Wet wood is slippery. Mushrooms are slippery. It's doubly slippery. I will fall."
"Oh bollocks, Quaraun. That water is two feet deep, the log not be any higher. Ya dare fall from that height, I gonna jump on ya and cut off yar hair."
"Unicorn," BeaLuna interrupted. "I think Quaraun might be scared of heights."
"That no be height. That do be step."
"Yeah, well, if he could be shorter, I think he'd try. I mean, he is taller then the rest of us, that's gotta be scary for him. I mean, it is Quaraun were talking about here. He's scared of milk remember?"
"Quaraun," asked Unicorn. "Is ya scared of heights?"
"Yes."
"Wonderful. Well, I guess now we know why we never get to the mountain. Can not very well climb up a mountain iffing ya can not even step on the log. How did ya gets like this?"
"I was born this way. It's why I never left the house."
"Yeah, I can vouch for that," BeaLuna said. "We grew up in the same village. It was really hard to get him to go outside. Even as little Elfling. Nobody could understand it. And this fainting thing that he does. He's always done that. Always. That's how he got into wizardry you know. His parents used to take him to healers all the time. After a while they figured some evil magic users had put a curse on him when he was born. So they started taking him to magic users, wizards to get the curse removed. And he ended up becoming a wizard."
"Poor Quaraun. Do ya need help getting across, eh?” Unicorn asked.
"Yes." Quaraun hated to admit it but the fallen tree and the brook below it frightened him terribly, and he didn't know why.
"Why did ya not just say that in first place? Ya do no hae to keep secrets from me Quaraun. I already know yis one messed up jelly brained Elf!"
Unicorn attempted to help Quaraun across the log.
"Ya know," said Unicorn. "Ya should be the one helping me. I is almost blind, I can barely sees the log."
"I'm dizzy," Quaraun suddenly gasped.
"Oh bother! Ya best not dare to faint on me. I wills be tossing ya into the water iffing ya do."
"I don't do it on purpose."
"I know. It just gets so annoying. Ya do it so much. There really is something wrong with ya. Tis not normal for someone to faint several times a day like ya do."
"I've never had good health."
"Oh look at that squirrel!"
"Unicorn!"
"What, eh?”
"Can you stayed focused on what we're doing?"
"But a squirrel ran by."
"So?"
"I like squirrels, used to be one once."
"Well that explains it."
"Explains what?"
"Why you have nuts for brains."
"Yis the nutter who be insane and got jelly for brains."
"You're the one chasing squirrels."
"Good point. We is both insane."
Unicorn got Quaraun across the brook and Bullgaar and BeaLuna joined them.
"You just squirrelled at him on purpose didn't you?" BeaLuna asked Unicorn.
"Did I."
"He was like 10 seconds from passing out on you there, till you said that and got him thinking on wanting to wring your neck neck instead. I thought he was gonna push you in the brook."
"His fears be all in hims head. I ain't actually sure they is all real either, he acts like such a freaking drama queen looking for sympathy half the time."
"I'm dizzy," moaned Quaraun again.
"Ya sees what I mean?"
"He really does faint, Unicorn," BeaLuna said. "He's not faking that."
"Ya does look likes yis gonna faint," Unicorn said to Quaraun. "Ya really should sit down."
"The moss is wet."
"Oh for crying out loud! Quaraun, do no start in again. Iffing ya faint, ya gonna be flat out on the wet moss anyways. Now sit ya blooming arse down, before I throws ya in the water, so I does no hae to listen to ya bitch about getting wet no more."
Unicorn shoved the Elf, forcing him to sit on the mossy bank beside the brook. Next thing they knew Quaraun was screaming hysterically, not really at anyone, just screaming out of frustration.
“I hate forests! I hate nature! I hate being outside! There are pine needles in my hair! And burrs and briar! I am not a Wood Elf. I do not belong in forests. There is nothing but bugs and frogs and rain and wet and mud and I HATE it! My hair is caked with mud. And knots and snarls and tangles! I hate all of It! I am a Moon Elf. I've been sleeping on the ground like a common Forest Elf! I hate Forest Elves. I should be sleeping in a bed....”
Quaraun continued ranting while the others watched him have a melt down.
“Told you he was a pampered spoilt brat,” BeaLuna said. When she had first met Unicorn, she had warned him what Quaraun was like.
“Aye. Ya did. I do remember. Is all city Elves like this?”
“Oh yeah! You should have seen his father. He had so many silver spoons rammed up his ass that he had servants for his servants. That man never set foot outside. Not once. Not in his entire life. Too worried about the sun ruining his perfect white complexion or yellowing his perfect white hair. Oh they're all crazy. The whole village was like that. You'd think they were moles. They would hire Dwarves and Gnomes to carve huge mansions into the sides of the mountains, so they never had to go outside. I mean, Quaraun always was the biggest sissy of them all, but the Moon Elves were all sissies when you get right down to it. Crazy as loons, every last one of them was. Do you know why they are called Moon Elves?”
“No. Actually. I does not. Why?”
“Because they would only come out at night. You'd never see a Moon Elf in the daylight. Only in moonlight. It's because their skin is so pale and their eyes are so light coloured, they just wither right away in the hot sun. It burns their skin. Like really burns them. You'd think they were vampires.”
They watched Quaraun as he continued to scream in his native tongue, while pulling at the tangles in his hair and shaking his fists at trees.
“The Sun Elves don't even live like this! We are the highest of the Highest of the High Elves, and I'm living lower then a Sun Elf! I belong in a castle where it is warm and dry and ….”
Suddenly Unicorn had a thought.
“Is he be King?” The Phooka asked BeaLuna.
“What? Quaraun? Ha! A king? Don't be ridiculous.”
“But is he not the son of the King's brother?”
“Yeah, but...”
“And the king be died.”
“Yeah, well, everybody died.”
“Which makes his father the king, because the king had no sons.”
“Yeah, but...”
“And then his father died, which makes Quaraun king.”
BeaLuna's eyes widened in horror.
“Oh, by the gods, you're right! Quaraun's a freaking king and he doesn't know it. Damn it don't ever tell him. It'll go right to his loony head, faster than his hair grows, and he's already a nightmare to live with as it is!”
"So," Bullgaar pointed at Quaraun while talking to BeaLuna. "You're saying the long haired Pink Pansy is a king?"
"Yeah."
"You sure he's not a queen?"
Quaraun stormed up to Bullgaar, and with his nose nearly touching the Dwarf's began shrieking at him: "How dare you call me a queen! I am the Sacred Pink JellyFish. The Thullid God! The Last of The Elder Brains! I am not an Elf! I just live in this Elf's body! I am the Grand High Emperor of the Triple Planets. You should be bowing at my feet, you ungrateful wretch of a Dwarf!"
An acorn bounced onto the moss in front of Quaraun's feet. He stopped screaming and looked up at the sky.
"Oak trees," Quaraun said as he stared up at the tree. "You're not an oak tree. That's a maple tree. An acorn fell off a maple tree. That's not right."
"Nuts for a nut," Unicorn laughed.
Quaraun liked to hear Unicorn's laughter. It made him feel less lonely. It also made going to Fire Mountain difficult. He also didn't like being pushed around by Unicorn, which made going to Fire Mountain easy.
Quaraun pulled out his brush and began nervously brushing his hair.
"What matter now?" Unicorn asked.
"The trees are wrong."
~ The Vampire Leprechaun of Fire Mountain
“I grew up with the Sun Elves, I was raised as an Elf.”
“You are only a half-Elf.”
The girl tried to interrupt the two quarrelling High Elves.
“You said he wasn't an Elf like you, but you are both Elves, aren't you? How's he different from you?”
“All life in the galaxy bows to me. I am the Grand High Emperor of the Triple Planets. I am the most pure being of all. My bloodline was untainted for millennia. He's nothing but Half a Sun Elf. Not a drop of royalty in his veins and he's half Demon, which makes him worse.”
“Demon?”
“Demon.”
“Like a Gremlin?”
“A what?”
“Is that The Gremlin?”
Quaraun looked at GhoulSpawn.
“She said A Gremlin and THE Gremlin. Two different ones.”
“What's a Gremlin?”
“I don't know,” GhoulSpawn answered. “The car I drive was named after some, 1940s World War Two superstition about Demons eating plane engines. But I don’t know what they are here.”
“You drive a Gremlin?” The girl asked.
“Yes.”
“Orange?”
“Yes.”
“1974?”
“Oh my god! You’re the Gremlin!”
Quaraun interjected. “Is the Gremlin alive in this time period?”
“Time period? Are you time travellers?”
“Something like that. What year is this?"
"2525."
"Oh dear. We could certainly use The Gremlin’s help getting back home.”
“Yeah. He’s around. Keeps to himself. Almost no one ever sees him.”
“Do you now where he lives?”
“Not exactly. They say he lives near The Twighlight Manor somewhere.”
“And where’s that?”
“You don’t know?”
“No. We’re strangers here.”
“It’s in the heart of The Twighlight Forest.”
“And that is where?”
“Old Orchard.”
“Old Orchard Beach?”
“Near the beach, yeah. People say it’s kind of hard to find. It’s pretty deep into the forest, and...”
“And what?”
“Well, people say crazy things.”
“Like what?”
“They say the house is guarded by these giant trees that come to life and eat people. Kind of a paranormal hotspot. A lot of people have gone missing in The Twighlight Forest. They say people go in and never come back.”
“Do you mean The Forest of No Return?”
“Yeah, I think some people call it that.”
Quaraun turned to Unicorn.
“We were right there. The week before GhoulSpawn showed up, we were there. We were so close to the Gremlin and we didn’t know it. We need to go back there. We need to find him. He can get us out of here.”
Quaraun turned back to the girl.
“You said Gremlins were things. What is a Gremlin?”
“Gremlins are Demons that like technology. Machines. Planes. Computers. But they are kind of bad luck. Whenever they touch a machine it all goes to hell and they don't seem to be able to control it. Weird things start happening whenever a Gremlin is around. They jinx a whole town.”
“Sounds like a Chaos Demon.”
“And THE Gremlin. What about him?”
“You mean other then the fact you are trying to find him?”
“Yes. What do you know about him?”
“He’s bat shit crazy.”
Quaraun nodded.
“Yes. I know. I’ve met him.”
“People always call him, THE Gremlin, just like he was the only one or something.”
“I had noticed that. But what can you tell us about him?”
“He did that.” The girl pointed up to the moon.
Quaraun stared up at the fractured, crumbling moon.
“He shattered the moon?”
“Yeah.”
“How?”
“He built a machine that turned off the portals. He didn't want people falling into them any more. Something about some lover that got killed or something. I don’t know.”
“He was looking for his father. His father fell into a portal and was lost.”
“Yeah. I think he might have found him or something. I don’t know. But yeah, he built this machine that made it so portals couldn’t be opened any more.”
“Is there no way to open portals out of here?”
“Well, after he did that other scientists came along and figured out how to control the machine. He went frantic trying to stop them and everyone kind of thought he went insane so he got straight jacketed and put in White Rock for a while. He was in there a long time. A few decades, I think. When they finally let him out... I don’t know. I guess it’s kind of hard to live in society after you’ve been in an a mental institute that long. Stigma. People bully him now. I think, just the whole idea of being put in White Rock humiliated him. I think he’s ashamed to be seen in public now. No one ever sees him any more.”
“So he doesn’t use portals any more?”
“Not that I know of. He’s pretty old now. Last I heard, he got injured a few years ago. Can’t get around good any more.”
“People were able to go back and forth through time and from one side of the planet to another, in seconds, using the machine he built. And for a while it was a good thing, but after a few years something went wrong and the machine stopped working right and... and... well... you can see what happened.”
Quaraun stared up at the sky.
“My poor moon.”
“You like the moon.”
“I liked my moon. When it was in one piece.”
“But you call yourself a Moon Elf right?”
“Yes.”
“Not an Ecrodon?”
“Ecrodon?”
“Yeah.”
“I haven't heard that word in years. I almost forgot about it. Yes. I am an Ecrodon. It was the original name of our people, before the Humans renamed us Moon Elves.”
“But what makes a Moon Elf a Moon Elf and a Sun Elf a Sun Elf. How are you different? You two kind of look the same to me.”
Quaraun sputtered incoherently in Thullid for several minutes while GhoulSpawn tried not to laugh and Unicorn laughed hysterically.
“What's so funny?” The girl asked Unicorn.
“Ya gone went and picked the right Elf to ask to nit-pick the differences between his pure blooded royal High Elf superiority and this Common Elf's half blooded inferiority.”
“I don't understand.”
“Ya knows how ya white folks around here, be hating on the black folks around here and want them all dead because they be inferior? Well, he be like that, only with Elves.”
“I'm not a Common Elf,” GhoulSpawn said. “We Sun Elves are High Elves as well.”
“You're a damned Half bred!” Quaraun yelled at him.
“That doesn't stop you from getting in bed with me!”
“Hey, I not Elf at all and I gets to fuck ya both.”
Unicorn turned back to the girl, while Quaraun and GhoulSpawn squabbled over their blood lines.
“They'll be doing that for hours. Elves separate themselves by what they look like and where they live and who's family has fucked the most close relatives. Moon Elves is called Moon Elves, because they has whiter then snow skin and white, grey, or silver hair and during the week of the full moon they glow in the dark, by the light of said full moon.”
“You mean, he glows in the dark like a glow worm?”
“Well, more like Jellyfish, but yes. Sun Elves, is only a whisper of a shade darker then Moon Elves. Nearly as white but with a somewhat golden glow to their skin and they have an unusual feature, in the colour of their hair.”
“You mean that unnaturally bright yellow?”
“Aye. But they is no born with it. They is born blond, very pale, almost white blond and as they get older, the more time they spend outside in direct sunlight, the more vibrantly yellow their hair becomes. Most Sun Elves have a very bright yellow tone to their hair. GhoulSpawn... he used to live in a tower and I think he stayed on the roof a smiggin oov ah wee bit too much. I has never seen a Sun Elf who's hair turned to that shade neon day glow yellow before. He has the most eye blindingest yellow hair I has ever did seen. Interestingly, if he stays out in the direct sunlight all day long, at night his hair glows in the dark for first couple hours of darkness. We can use him as a lamp. Of course, if we wants to hide from enemies at night, that not a good thing.”
“So, they both glow in the dark?”
“Aye.”
“Do all Elves glow in the dark?"
“No. Only the highest of the High Elves have that trait. It one of things they use to judge their superiority by. Moon Elves is top doggiest, top dog, purist of the pure and Sun Elves is very close second. Or they think they is at least. It why Quaraun tolerate the company of GhoulSpawn, even though GhoulSpawn only be half-Elf. Now were Ghouly here a common Wood Elf, Quaraun would have killed him and fed him to me a long time ago. Oh, look, girl fight...”
Quaraun and GhoulSpawn had started hitting each other and were now rolling on the ground, kicking and screaming and pulling each other's long hair.
“What are they doing?”
“Bitch fighting like de couple of wee sissy assed lassies they is. We go t’rough this every day. That other thing ya'll notice about Elves, or at least High Elves, like these two, is their men folk is very girly. It women folk what do de fighting and de cooking and cleaning and gardening and harvesting and hunting and pretty much everyt’ing else, while de men folk sit around looking pretty, brushing their hair, powdering their noses, pouring over books and dressing like jewel encrusted stuffed peacocks.”
“They are both kind of dressed like Liberace.”
“Who?”
“Famous musician from centuries ago, way back in the 1970s. Never met a rhinestone he didn't love.”
“Ah. Like Quaraun. Him love glitter. Especially pink glitter.”
“Yes. I can certainly see that.”
“Male High Elves make an art out of vanity, ego and narcissism. Quaraun will be screaming after this...he has totally ruined that dress rolling around on the ground with Ghouly there.”
“What are they fighting about?”
“Who knows? Quaraun be son of a prince and expects to be treated like queen, wants every one to bow down and lick hims feet and brush his hair, and well, look at his hair, it takes a whole army a week to brush that much hair, and GhoulSpawn refuses to worship his holy lordship's royal pure blooded white ass or primp his royal bitchiness's hair. Den Ghouly flaunts fact that hims daddy was Elf fucking Chaos Demon. Ghouly quite proud of fact that him Half-Elf. Odd really. I never before meet Half-Elf what was proud to be half-Elf before. And Quaraun jealous of Ghouly's hair. Him half sheep, so not only does Ghouly got sheel locs on hims haed, by from his waist to his cloven hooves is covered with more hair dan I ever seen on any t'ing. Ghouly's hair ain't quite as long as Quaraun's but he gots more of it. Dey keep arguing over who is most powerful wizard and comparing how much hair each other has, den they break out is hair pulling cat fights.”
Unicorn watched the two Elves fight.
“Ya know, things was different just when decades ago. Elves used to be more tolerate of other races and of each other.”
~ GhoulSpawn and The Lich Lord's Lover
"Oh! My hair!" Quaraun suddenly jumped up and punched the Human that had touched him. "How dare you touch my hair!"
Quaraun pulled out his silver brush and began obsessively brushing his hair.
"Two scantily clad chefs are slinging electrically charged pancakes at each other," Unicorn said. "It fills ya with determination."
Quaraun wasn't listening. He was too determined to obsessively brushing his hair into perfectly smooth silk.
While Quaraun obsessed over his hair, Unicorn listened to the scuffle going on in the kitchen.
"We've got all the ingredients we need for cake... milk, sugar, chainsaws, a Human soul...."
"Are you sure we should be using Human souls?"
"It's what the recipe calls for."
"But what if somebody is a vegetarian?"
"Who round here be veggie eter?"
"I am."
You? Haha! Ya eats brains. That ain't no vegan."
~ Summoner of Darkness
GhoulSpawn was used to standing out in a crowd because of his naturally neon yellow hair. He was used to being born different and being ostracized because of it. he was used to looking at everyone else and seeing that they all had relatively similar hair of relatively similar styles and dull natural colours. No one had hair like his. No one had hair different from his but still equally dissimilar to everyone else, either. No one that is until he met Quaraun and Unicorn.
Quaraun's hair was whiter than new snow and gleamed like silver metal in the sunlight. It was also more then four feet long, reaching to below his knees, and sections of it were tied off into twin pig tails, tied with big pink ribbons who's long end trailed nearly to the ground. Unlike the average citizen, whose hair was frizzy from the 1400s having lacking the invention of shampoo, Quaraun's hair was very smooth. This was obviously due to the Elf's spending many hours of each day, sitting and brushing his long locks. GhoulSpawn kept his own hair smooth with much less difficulty and far less work as he had brought back lots of shampoo bottles from the future.
It was Unicorn's hair however that fascinated GhoulSpawn. Were his hair straight it would probably have been nearly as long, if not longer then Quaraun's. But Unicorn's hair was a tight, nappy, woolly frizz, that had clearly not only never been cut, but also had never seen either brush or comb, and hung to his hips in a mass of dozens of think matted locks. To see a man with dreaded hair was not entirely unusual, what was unusual was the way he decorated his dreads.
At a first glance it looked as though Unicorn's hair was an unkempt wild mess, full of twigs and branches. Closer examination, revealed a method to the madness and an artistry to the seeming randomness. The branches were not stuck in his hair, but rather tied in with purple wool yarn. Most of his dread had strands of purple yarn plaited into them. Bones, teeth, claws, shells, and small skulls were intricately woven in as well. Glass beads and gold coins found their way too.
GhoulSpawn sat and watched the Phooka, thinking about his hair, because at that moment Unicorn had before him a pile of moss, he'd gathered from the swamp this morning and he was now carefully picking the dirt out of it and weaving purple strands of wool into the moss. GhoulSpawn watched as Unicorn tied several clumps of the sphagnum moss into his dreadlocks.
"Why did you do that?"
Unicorn looked up. He did not like the half-Elf. He wished Quaraun would let him eat the strange yellow hair Sun Elf sitting before him.
"He's Scottish," Quaraun answered, not giving Unicorn a chance to speak.
"I know that," GhoulSpawn said.
"You don't know what that means do you?"
GhoulSpawn shook his head, no.
"They believe it is bad luck to cut their hair, brush their hair, and plica is seen as a sign of being strong and healthy."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I'm not Scottish. I tried to brush his plica out once and flipped out on me. The plait is considered an amulet to keep illness away from the body, and he believes that when disease is resolved it left the body to live in his hair, resulting in lessened suffering. For this reason, Scottish people are not only allowed it to develop plica plaits, but even encourage it."
Unicorn smiled, trying not to laugh.
"Aye, and it annoys ya to no end."
Unicorn turned to GhoulSpawn.
"Him t'inks me hair be messy."
"Do all Faeries loc their hair like that?"
"Have ya never not known no Fae before?"
"No."
"Aye. Most Faeries have plica locs. It why Humans call this hairstyle Fairy-Locs or Elf Locs."
"Can you wash it like that?"
"Aye. Me washes it with wine and vinca water."
"How do you keep bugs out of it?"
"I soak me dreads in cinnamon oil, mixed with anise, clove, peppermint, and nutmeg."
"That would be the smell."
"Aye."
"You smell like a candy shop."
"I should hope so. I is BoomFuzzy after all."
"BoomFuzzy?"
Quaraun pulled a gilded box of chocolate truffles out of his bag of holding and laid it on the table in front of GhoulSpawn. In gleaming gold letters on the brown satin box, were the words: "BoomFuzzy's Fugger Nutter Plumkins".
"You're a candy maker?"
"Aye. Though ya probably does no want to eat those ones dair."
"why not?"
"I made dem special for Quaraun. Secret recipe. Sends me Moon Elf to the Moon."
GhoulSpawn looked to Quaraun for an explanation.
"They're drugged," the wizard said.
"Drugged?"
"Opium. Lots of it. And other things. And I'll stick to letting him make them. He knows what he's doing. Apparently I don't."
Unicorn laughed.
"Him had bad trip on way here."
"Oh."
GhoulSpawn had no clue what Unicorn ment, but he figured it best to assume he did, since neither Unicorn nor Quaraun seemed to have much in the way of good communication skills, they were both more socially awkward then he was and neither seemed to be very people friendly. In spite of being an aristocratic High Elf, is was apparent that Quaraun had been a hermit for quite some time, and that combined with the fact that he was now living with a Faerie, seemed to have caused him to forget things like etiquette and manners, indeed, Quaraun now acted far more like a Wild Elf then a High Elf. Unicorn's lack of manners and wild actions were expected, as he was a Faerie and every Elf knew that this was simply the way Faeries were.
GhoulSpawn watched as the Phooka braided the last of the moss into his hair and then scanned the room looking for something mischievous to do to someone. He suspected the Trickster Fae would jump up at any moment to antagonize someone in the tavern and wondered why it was Faeries did such things.
"You're not in your right form, are you?" GhoulSpawn asked the Faerie, breaking Unicorn's concentration on the table across the room.
"Hmmm?"
"You're a Phooka."
Unicorn turned back to face the half-Elf.
"Aye."
"Phooka's are monsters with no bipedal form."
"Bipedal? What that?"
"Bipedal means walks upright on two legs. Like us Elves and the Humans. You look like a Human. But you're not a Human. Which means you're not in your right form, then, are you?"
"No."
"So why do you look like this? Why this body?"
"Him like it."
Unicorn pointed to Quaraun.
"I do what please me Elf. I do what get me in bed with me Elf. This body excites me Elf. Him let me fuck him when I look like this."
"You know you stand out."
"Not as much as he does."
"True. But he's an Elf and we Elves kind of stand out in any Human village anyways. But you're trying to pass as a Human. Why look like a Human who stands out so much from other Humans?"
"Were I try to blend in, I would blend in. But I is no try to blend in. I change bodies the way him change dresses. I wear whatever body him like. And this body him like a lot."
"But he indicated he didn't like that hairstyle. He was complaining about how tangled and matted it was."
"Aye. Him do complain of me hair."
"So why that hairstyle? It stands out so much and he doesn't really like it?"
"Tis me real hair. I do no change me hair. When I shape shift to other forms, any body, Human, Elf, Horse, me always has t'is here hair. Dis me real hair."
"And you're real eyes?"
"Me eyes? Aye. Ya tell dis t'ing how?"
"Your hair is grey with age. And your eyes are clouded silver. You're almost blind aren't you?"
"Aye. Me sight is very bad."
"But why ya can tell this?"
"I've seen you quite a few times now. Things keep changing. Being slightly different. The shape of your nose. The colour of your skin. Some days you are very dark. Other days you're very pale. I've seen you black, brown, red, yellow, and tan. You don't seem to settle on any one particular race or culture and you keep changing your appearance in small ways, like you're an artist fine tuning a painting. But your eyes never change and neither does your hair. And also your height. You are very short, which I assume also means this is your real height."
"Aye."
~ Summoner of Darkness
"Are you sure you didn't hit your head on door post on your way in here? You are a foot taller then me you know."
The solider put his face nose to nose with Quaraun's.
"I saw a horse."
"Prove it." Quaraun kissed the Human's nose.
Quaraun turned back to his mirror and began painting neon pink gloss on his lips.
"Give me that bag!"
The hysterical Human grabbed the Elf's pink purse. Quaraun shrugged and let the soldier pull away his bag of holding.
"Where is it?" The man screamed. looking into the bag.
"What do you expect to find in there?" Quaraun asked, as he painted a strip of glue to the edge of his bright pink flamingo feather false eyelashes, then delicately put it in place on his eyelid.
"I know you hid that horse somewhere!"
Quaraun laughed.
"And you expect to find it in a make up bag, ha! Ha! You're crazy, Mallac."
Quaraun set about to putting his other huge, fluffy, pink feather eyelash on.
Mallac reached his hand in the bag and pulled out ten gold coins. He stared blankly at the coins.
"Keep them," Quaraun said, as he pulled off the ten gold armour rings that covered his long thin fingers, so he could brush his hair without them getting in the way.
Mallac shook the bag trying to get something to fall out of it. He had just seen Quaraun take the mirror, desk, chairs, and rack of dresses out of this impossibly small bag and was convinced there was a horse hiding in the bag, but there was absolutely nothing in the bag but the ten gold coins he'd pulled out of it. Mallac turned the bag inside out and back right side out again.
"How do you make this thing work?" The Human asked as he put his eye in the bag and tried to see anything inside of it.
"I don't know what you're talking about Mallac."
"Don't lie to me, Wizard! I see you pulling stuff out of this bag all the time. It's somehow bigger on the inside and you keep a king's ransom of treasure in this thing. Now make it work!"
"You've been hitting the bar too much, Mallac. Why don't ya go home rest it off for bit?"
"Don't play coy with me, Wizard! I saw you playing brood mare to a horse. I know you hid it in this bag. Make it work!"
Quaraun shrugged, and took the bag from the Human, reached into it and pulled out a handful of pink ribbons and a silver tiara that glistened with rhinestones. He handed the bag back to Mallac, then set about to brushing two long pigtails high on top of his head, tying the bright neon pink ribbons into his four and half foot long glossy white hair, and then perched the little tiara on top of his head.
Twelve feet when it was down, the pigtails kept Quaraun's hair at a more manageable ankle thing so he could walk without tripping over his train on hair.
Mallac reached into the bag and pulled out ten more gold coins. He stared at the coins in his hand.
"You can keep them too," Quaraun said. "Now you're as rich as the king. Think of what you can do with twenty gold coins, Mallac. That's more then you'll make in your lifetime. You can buy your own country, crown yourself king, build your own army. No more working for others."
"Don't try to bribe me, Wizard. There was a horse in here. I know it."
Quaraun sighed. He was becoming increasingly annoyed by this Human. If it wasn't for the fact that his leg still needed more time to heal, he would have left this village by now.
"Why are you even in my room, Mallac?"
"There's been another murder."
"Of course there has. What else ever happens in this town? But what does that have to do with barging into my room, uninvited, without even knocking, I might add."
Quaraun got up from his chair and put it and the vanity table back into his bag. Mallac immediately grabbed the bag and reached in to pull the table and chair back out, but came out with an additional ten gold coins instead.
"Look at that," Quaraun said cheerfully. "Now you got thirty gold coins. You can buy yourself a haram and fill it with pretty women. One assumes you like woman?"
Mallac glared at the little bitty transvestite Elf.
"Or do you like boys and all this hostility towards me and my personal sex life, which is in no way any of your business, actually just a cover for the fact that you really like boys but that's not allowed in this village so you take your frustrations out on me by seeing horses where there are none and digging into my private affairs?"
Mallac scowled and shoved the bag back at the pink Necromancer.
"If it wasn't for these murders, I'd have you trussed up and hung in the city center. Sexual deviants like you belong in stocks and bonds."
"Well, at least you wouldn't be the first to think of doing that to me. Seems to be the going trend these days. A guy likes dressing like a girl and having dicks stuffed up his ass, and therefore he has be tied up and humiliated by the deviate bastards who take sexual pleasure in sexually torturing his genitals as they are hung out on display for the men of the town to get their latent homoerotic desires out on him, seeing how the law won't let them get their hands around another man's dick otherwise."
"You're sick."
"Just stating the facts as I know them. I've been hung in town squares before. I know for a fact that half the men of the village, are going to spend an inordinate amount of time groping the balls of the naked victim, just so they can get pleasure from watching him cum on their hands. Why don't you save time and just grope me now. Then you can get it done in private without everyone in town watching you have an erection while you grope my balls in public?"
Quaraun flipped his skirts up, holding the pink ruffled hems to his chest.
"Here, why don't I put them on display for you?"
Mallac tossed the bag of holding bag at the sluty, half naked Elf and stormed out of the room while screaming at the top of his lungs: "I don't want to look at a she-male's balls!"
Quaraun let his skirts drop back to the floor as he stood watching the Human leave. Unicorn was still sitting on the floor beside the bed, now laughing hysterically. Quaraun turned to face the Faerie.
"You were fucking me while you were a horse, weren't you?" The Elf demanded.
"Aye. But ya did say I could."
"I did, didn't I? Why did I do that? You drugged my food again didn't you? What did you give me?"
Quaraun didn't give Unicorn a chance to answer.
"Did he just call me a she-male?" Quaraun asked.
"Him did," Unicorn answered.
"How utterly offensive! I am deeply offended. He has deeply offended me. I don't like this village. The Humans are too uptight here. He called me a she-male! She-male? How dare he call me a she-male. I'm triggered on so many levels. I need a pickle. Here, finish packing my things up." Quaraun handed the bag of holding to Unicorn. "I'm going down to the kitchen to get a pickle."
A few minutes later Unicorn, no longer a horse, now shifted to look like black skinned Asian Human dressed in black silk hakama and kimono, came down the stairs to find Quaraun screaming hysterically at one of the actual Humans who worked in the kitchen.
"What is problem?" Unicorn asked Quaraun.
"They are refusing to put pickles in my ice cream!" The Elf screamed while pointing a gold plated accusing finger at the Human holding a plate of pickles in one handed a bowl of ice cream in the other.
Unicorn stared at the Elf for a few seconds, wondering if perhaps Quaraun had misspoke.
"Ya be WANTING pickles in ya ice cream?"
"YES!"
"Ah! Of course. Why did I not think of that? Here," Unicorn gave the bag of holding back to the enraged Elf. "Take dat and, ya go sit ya pretty slutty lil arse down. I fix this."
"They..."
"Nope!" Unicorn waved a hand in Quaraun's face. "I BoomFuzzy, greatest Master Chef world ever know. I chef. I fix. Go sit. Ya under too much stress."
Quaraun grabbed his bag and stomped out of the kitchen, pink feathers and gold glitter wafting through the room behind him.
"I tried to tell her..." the kitchen staff began to say.
"Him," Unicorn corrected.
"Him? Who?"
"That male Elf. Him get mad iffy ya call him a she."
"But..."
"Ignore how he look like. Pretend all men dress like that. It only way to reason with him."
"Oh... uhm..."
"Tell me what happened."
"She... er ... he asked for a plate of pickles..."
"Which I see ya has in ya hand."
"Yes, and I gave it to her... uhm... him... and but she.. he... wouldn't take it and started demanding ice cream instead, which we don't normally have, we only have it because she keeps..."
"Uh-uh. No-no." BoomFuzzy the Unicorn shook his head.
"What?"
"He, not she."
"Oh, yeah, we only have ice cream because he was demanding it when he first got here and you went and made it for us..."
"Aye. So what problem now?"
"Well, I gave her, him, her, his pickles and his ice cream and next thing I know she's, he's yelling at me because they are in two separate plates and he said it was supposed to be pickle ice cream not pickles and ice cream, but that's not what he asked for, I swear..."
"And I believe ya. I lives with him. I know what he like. Pink silk, twelve feet of uncut hair and all unreasonable bitch underneath. Him protecting pretty little clutch of purple eggs and wanting to breed and we got male Thullids in de area. Him bitchier than usual. Why did ya not just mix them together in one bowl?"
"He didn't give me a chance to! He just started screaming and then you walked in."
"Ah! Well. Give me plate."
Moments later Unicorn was sitting down beside Quaraun.
"Pickle ice cream, just what the pregnant male queen bee jelly brained mother bitch ordered," Unicorn said as he handed the bowl to Quaraun. "What is it with ya eating habits this week?"
"I always eat like this," Quaraun said as he devoured his pickle ice cream like he was half starved.
"No ya do nae. I never seen ya eat like this. I hardly ever see ya eat at all. Usually ya running around screaming ya can nae eat because ya gonna get fat. As if any fat would dare latch on to ya bones! Ya's zap it with ya wand before it got a good grip on ya."
"Are you suggesting I'm underweight?"
"Heaven forbid I suggest ya was fat!"
Quaraun glared at Unicorn.
"It probably good t'ing ya is eating ice cream."
"Why?"
"Ya could stand to gain a few pounds, before ya melt away into nothing. I ain't never seen an Elf as skinny as ya. Make it hard for me to fuck ya like I wants to. Too afraid ya gonna break if I slam into ya too hard."
"You can slam into me as hard as you want."
"Aye."
"Quaraun!" An excited voice chirped from behind them.
"Oh no!" Unicorn groaned as he recognized the voice of GhoulSpawn.
The half-Elf sat down between Quaraun and Unicorn, without waiting to be invited.
"Ya hair not glowing," Unicorn said.
"It's not night time," GhoulSpawn said. "There was another murder last night!" He said in a hush voice of excitement.
Quaraun couldn't tell if he was happily excited about the murder or scared excited. GhoulSpawn's outward emotions seemed off from what was normal.
"I'd heard," Quaraun said as he continued to eat his pickle ice cream. "Unicorn," Quaraun added. "Get my brush out of my bag and brush my hair."
Unicorn did as he was told, and set about to brushing the Elf's overly long hair. "What part ya want brushed?"
"The lower sections are getting tangled. Dragging on the ground. I need to tie it up higher."
"You have to stop him," GhoulSpawn said very seriously.
"What?" Quaraun looked up, not sure what the half-Elf meant.
"He enjoys pulling strings from the shadows, setting up wars that lead to the destruction of thousands and thousands of souls in his revenge," GhoulSpawn said quietly.
"Who does?"
"This isn't what I signed up for..." GhoulSpawn continued, completely ignoring Quaraun's question.
"What are you talking about?"
"I didn't know he was killing people..."
"You know who the murderer is, don't you?"
"I just wanted to find a place where I fit in. I'm a half-Elf and they were a group of half-Elves."
"Who's killing people around here?"
"You're a full blooded High Elf. You don't know what it's like for us half-Elves. No one except us. We're always alone. I thought... I thought I'd a place I belonged. He'll kill me if he finds out I'm talking to you."
"Are you in danger?"
"I didn't know they were hurting people. I'm not one of them. I'm not like that. This isn't what I signed u for. I didn't know what they were doing. I've been trying to find a way to stop them."
"Who?"
"I don't want more people to die. I'm not a strong enough wizard to stop them on my own. But you are. I've seen you do stuff. You can stop them. I know you can."
"Who? GhoulSpawn stop who?"
"Please. Stop him. Before he kills again."
"Who is killing people?"
GhoulSpawn suddenly jumped with a start, as if he heard something that terrified him.
"I gotta go," he gasped in a frightened squeak.
GhoulSpawn quickly jumped up and skittered back out of the tavern.
"Well that was strange," Quaraun said as he watched the half-Elf disappear.
"Him strange Elf," Unicorn agreed. "But all Elves is strange. Of course, only one Elf I know of with twelve foot long hair, that him refuses to cut."
"I am the world's most powerful wizard, precisely because I do not cut my hair. Wonder who he was talking about?"
~ Summoner of Darkness
>>You'll probably spending a decent chunk of every day of your life looking in a mirror to see if how you want to present yourself matches how others will see you.
>>Every morning, fully naked. And I always write down this description of myself and show it to everyone I meet during the day, just so they know.
You know, I'm gonna have to write a scene where Quaraun does this. Or rather, Unicorn. Unicorn is likely to do this sort of thing to make fun of Quaraun's cleanliness habits.
Unicorn/BoomFuzzy is likely to not describe himself, but rather describe Quaraun and then hand descriptions out to everyone they meet.
Now to figure out which story to add this to.
>>Maybe this is why I find Tolkien and much fantasy to be mind-numbing descriptions of settings and people that have little to do with moving the story along. If I want visuals then I will watch a movie.
I tried reading Tolkien once. I made it to the 24 page long song, being sung by the Hobbits who were dancing on the table. And I barely made it that far, because I first had to slog through pages describing the Shire first, pages describing the Hobbestes, and the only thing that kept me moving forward were the pages describing a grey wizard...
I put up with the descriptions because I kept telling myself somewhere along the line the story would start... but tat 24 page long poem was the killer. I wanted to get to the story, and after 40 pages of description, instead of starting the story he threw a 24 page long song in.
>>Why stop at the nose? There are cheekbones, temples, shoulders, and elbows you could also be describing.
OMG! Yes! Yes! Yes! I describe them all.
You know EVERY wrinkle of my characters.
Heck, I have readers who have re-read certain scene so many times, that they have every wrinkle of Quaraun's scrotum committed to memory.
Kind of scary, when you think about it.
I kind of have a fetish for wizard testicles, so I often spend 10 pages or more just on describing them, for no reason at all, other than I'm the biggest screaming fangirl of my characters and he, why write fanfiction for characters others created when I can write fanfiction of my own characters, you know?
You know... years ago, I used to do this. And it was only as little as ten years ago, that I wrote an article advising writers to do exactly that! The article is still out there if you want to read it.
But in that article I actually advocated taking every single body part of your character and writing a 5 page long description of it.
So, the goal was to write 5 pages describing their nose, 5 pages describing their cheekbones, 5 pages describing their shoulders, etc.
Funny thing was some people took that to mean, then put those 5 pages in your story. People once in a while read that article then email me and say: "That's bad advice!"... but those complainers actually did not read the full article or they would have also seen, the part where I said to do this as a writing exercise to cure writer's block, to build a character profile, to help YOU figure out who your character is. It was not advice to write those things as scene for your story.
In actual story writing, you rarely see me include descriptions at all. Until, you know... wizard testicles.... yeah.
And GhoulSpawn's... uhm... well... GhoulSpawn. You know what GhoulSpawn is.
Sheep, fabulous and flamboyant! Who knew?
Specific characters, you are going to know EVERY inch of their bodies.
Landscapes, settings, towns, I leave those mostly undescribed. But the 3 main characters? Description overload.
>>Let the reader use their imagination.
And this is why.
No.
My characters look a specific way and I don't want readers imagining them looking like something else.
>>Why bother with gender?
I do feel gender is important, at least in my own stories, because the characters live in a time when males dominate and females are deeply prejudiced against.
The main character being a transvestite, a man who dresses like a woman, means he's constantly running up against people who treat him like a worthless, good for nothing female, often without realizing he is male. Some once learning he is male, stop treating him like shit, but most upon discovering he is male dressed as female, lash out on him tens times worse.
So in the case of my own series, gender is important to the plot.
I have however read stories where you never know the characters' gender, and if done well, it's a very fascinating thing to read because you the reader are left not knowing what to think anyone is.
If you want to read this well done, I highly recommend Sanctuary, a Science Fiction novel about a crew of 3 men, who crash land on a planet that shuns gender roles and the 3 men never know if they are talking to men or women. It's a fascinating concept.
>>Why bother with age?
My main character, Quaraun, doesn't know how old he is and neither does the reader. Only in the flashback novel, BoomFuzzy, is he given a definite age. At 9 he witnesses his mother murdered. Shortly after he is kidnapped by priests for torture him as part of a cult ritual to train young and unwilling boys into wizards. At 35 he kills the priests and finds his way back home. He casts off his wizard training because he never wanted to be a wizard and becomes a tailor. At 75 his lover commits suicide, Quaraun finds the body, and Quaraun's mind snaps, resulting in him spending the next 100 years perfecting becoming a Necromancer, then at age 175 he murders his sister-wife and the 4 children he had with her, to put their souls in an ice golem that he uses to resurrect his dead lover.
In Night of the Screaming Unicorn, readers are told that it has now been 300 years since he murdered his wife and children, making him now 475.
The rest of the series takes place in the years following Night of the Screaming Unicorn, but never again is specific about how old Quaraun is, again, until the two part story in Zebulon's Captive and My Two Favorite People, which state that Quaraun is now 750 years old. Quaraun is murdered shortly after this, thus the reader knows he lived 750 years.
The bulk of the 130 novels that make up the series take place between his being 450 and 750 without ever telling the reader which story happens in which year.
Quaraun can't remember his age from one novel to the next, because can never remember what age I said he was from one story to the next, so his age is listed different in every single chapter to make the lack of accuracy in his age a running gag.
>>Ethnicity?
Again, as with gender, ethnicity plays important plot roles in the series. Quaraun, Unicorn, and GhoulSpawn are all Gypsies of various types and get a lot of bigoted flack from other characters because of this.
>>Body type?
Not as important to the series, but readers are told body types on some level.
For example, readers know that Quaraun is very short and that this bothers him. Quaraun is 5'6" tall. He also lives in Maine, where real world men are all well over 6' tall.
In the series, you see Quaraun, constantly overshadowed by men who are 2 or 3 full heads taller then he is. He barely comes up to the shoulders of most men around him.
He's also a little hellfire that won't take shit from the 6 foot tall bullies.
Quaraun was suddenly jolted awake by a loud noise. He looked around wondering where he was, then remembered Mallac and the map.
Mallac had slammed his fist on the table and was now yelling angrily at Quaraun.
Elwin now had a stranglehold on Quaraun's neck and was crying frantically, terrified of the screaming soldier.
"Shhhhhh," Quaraun hushed the toddler, stroking his hair and rocking back and forth. "It's alright. Ignore the crazy Human." To Mallac he said: "You're scaring the child."
"You refuse to stay awake!"
"I've been awake for the past 7 days. I need some sleep."
"You have a job to do."
"No, Mallac. You do! You have a job to do and you're too damned lazy to do it yourself so you're trying to pass it off on me instead."
"It is your responsibility..."
"I am not one of your soldiers," Quaraun said as he set Elwin on the seat and stood up to yell back at the soldier who was yelling at him. "I don't take orders from you. I didn't mind helping, because you were in trouble, but you are taking advantage of that. You have no right to boss me around. I'm not one of your men!"
Elwin was crying frantically now. Seeing Quaraun arguing with the solider, scared the little boy who clambered to Unicorn and was now hugging the Phooka's neck. Poor Elwin was traumatized more then any of them realized. He had just witnessed his mother murdered by an angry yelling man, and did not want to see yet another murder.
Mallac continued yelling at Quaraun.
"You're scaring the boy," Quaraun yelled back at the soldier.
"I don't know why you bother fussing over that child. He ain't nothing but an ingrate half-Elf."
"I am fed up with the way you arrogant, piss ant Humans treat the half-Elves around here!"
Mallac opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out Quaraun punched him in the face, throwing every bit of his tiny five foot six inch body into the punch. Mallac, not expecting the Elf to attack him, was easily knocked off balance. The soldier went tumbling to the floor. Unicorn stood up, carrying the child and looking back and forth from Quaraun to each of the soldiers. He knew that punch was about all the fight Quaraun had in him. Should the rest of the Humans decide to defend their leader and attack Quaraun, he didn't stand a chance.
But none of the Humans did anything. In fact, they looked like they were about to drop their weapons and run.
"That barmaid were right," Unicorn said to Quaraun.
"Gi'me, Elwin," Quaraun said as took the child from Unicorn.
Mallac was sprawled on the floor holding his nose and looking like he was about to start crying.
"I don't like bullies," Quaraun said to Mallac. "And I especially don't like grown men who pick on innocent children. You people in this town ought to be ashamed of yourselves. If the half-Elves are rising up to kill you all, well, then it's because you damned well deserve it. What is wrong with you people? I didn't come here to be pushed around by you. I came here to rest. I'm wounded and need to heal. It's terrible what is happening to your people, but it's not my responsibility to fix it, and from what I've seen it's your own damned fault. You treat the half-Elves like shit. They aren't being allowed to buy, sell, or trade. They are not being allowed to have jobs. When they go off by themselves, not bothering a damn one of you, what do you do? You murder their families and raze their farms. I've seen the half-Elf camps for myself. They are starving to death. They have no shelter. And winter is coming. You kill their livestock, destroy their crops, burn down their houses, simply because you don't like the colour of their blood. Then you complain because they are forced to steal food to survive. You brought this uprising on yourselves, and now you want me to clean up your damned mess? I'm not here to do your job for you. Had I not gotten wounded, I wouldn't even be here at all and you'd be stuck doing this all on your own."
With the orphan half-Elf toddler still in one arm, Quaraun took a map of the town and laid it out on the table. He began marking where each murder had occurred.
~From "The Summoner of Darkness" (Volume 11 of The Quaraun Series)
Perhaps in most novel's a character's body type is not important. But we seen in the Quaraun series, time and time again, Quaraun being pushed around by men bigger then he is and him trying to ignore it, but then as in the case of the scene above, him finally getting fed up with it. In that particular scene, readers have already seen Mallac, a man described as being 6'2" tall, spend the past 7 days hounded Quaraun, largely because Quaraun is small and easy to push around. Quaraun spends the first 7 days, not putting up much of a protest to the bully, at first thinking if he agreed to help Mallac, the situation would quickly blow over.
However, seeing that Quaraun takes orders easily, Mallac sudden;y start taking advantage of that. And in the pages leading up to this scene, he begins to tease Quaraun about his lack of height, calling him short on many occasions and making an issue about Quaraun's being to small to stand up to anyone.
Being a stranger in the town, not planning to stay very long, and not wishing to start trouble. Quaraun keeps his mouth shut and tries to ignore the soldier's words, but in private, when alone with Unicorn, he expresses his hurt and frustration over how Mallac is treating him. In the scene above where he finally has had enough, his outburst is triggered, not by Mallac attacking his height, but rather by Mallac's bad mouthing a 3 year old boy who had hours earlier witnessed his mother's brutal murder. However, in this scene, the reader is reminded of the fact that Quaraun is 5 feet, 6 inches tall, and that, though he's reacting over one thing, he's fueled by another. He's protecting the child, but he's also still pissed over what Mallac had earlier said about his height.
This is why you see the phrase:
"Mallac opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out Quaraun punched him in the face, throwing every bit of his tiny five foot six inch body into the punch. Mallac, not expecting the Elf to attack him, was easily knocked off balance."
The reader does not need to be told how tall Quaraun is, as the reader already knows how tall he is. It has been said previously in the story. In this scene, this line is added, not to show his height, but rather to remind the reader that Quaraun is still mad at Mallac for having called him short the night before.
This is a case where describing body type then becomes important to the plot and is not there to describe the character's appearance, but rather is there to show how the character is feeling.
Now, perhaps, you might say that assigning a character's height is unnecessary. And indeed, that is what this commenter is suggesting when they said:
>>Why stop at the nose? There are cheekbones, temples, shoulders, and elbows you could also be describing. Let the reader use their imagination. Why bother with gender? Why bother with age? Ethnicity? Body type? Hell, why bother even establishing if they're human or not? Those are impediments putting your characters into a box. They could just as easily be formless titles with the reader throwing in the rest.
Indeed, we could do that. We could avoid descriptions completely...
...but have you ever talked to a man who was 5'6" tall?
When a man is short, especially, when a man is considerably short to the point that children are often taller then he is, as is the case with Quaraun, he will be quick to tell you that height is very important, because it causes people to treat him different.
Men under 5'10 often report being pushed around and bullied by bigger men, while being passed up and ignored by beautiful women. They will tell you finding dates becomes more difficult, the shorter a man us. If a short man is interested in sports, he's left to watch as a spectator, not even allowed to try out for the team because of height requirements. What happens when his friends head to the amusement park and all the rides say you must be so tall, and the marker is over his head, leaving him on the ground while his friends enjoy the ride?
Quaraun's being short has a horrible effect on his self esteem. He often feels excluded, unloved, and unwanted, and blames his being short on his not being able to fit in.
In one story there is a scene, where he states that he started dressing like a woman because he found that at his very short height, he had a better chance of being including if men thought he was a woman. Readers are left to wonder if Quaraun were a normal height, would he also not be a transvestite?
Now, you can say, that I've written Quaraun to be overly dramatic and that real short men are not that upset over their height...
But then on Quora we find this:
Interesting… is that statistic new? In the 1980s anyone under 5′10″ in America was considered short. 5′7″ is quite short. There are also no men in my family under 6′2″.
I have 12 uncles. The shortest is 6'4" the tallest is 7'3".
Are we tall in Maine? I’m a 5′6″ female I’m VERY short, most women around here are 5′8″ or more, and most men are 6′2″ or more. A 5′6″ male would be the same height as me and thus he’s be INCREEDLY TINY! Child sized. Most 10 year olds are taller then that. But reading these posts, sounds like maybe a regional thing?
I'm a woman 5'6" and EVERYONE, men, women, AND children are taller than me.
You are hard pressed to find a child not 5'6" by the time they are 10, a woman under 5'8" and a man under 6'.
My partner, is 5'10" and I'm with him largely because he is short. At 5'10" he is often picked on and bullied by other men in the area, because he is so very short.
Quaraun at 5'6" is incredibly tiny, by comparison to men in Maine.
But were he Mexican or Asian, his height would be normal, or so the men of Quora and Reddit say...
Here on Reddit we see these comments:
All three main characters get their height mentioned.
As short as Quaraun is, he can often be heard saying he likes spending time with Gwallmaiic aka BoomFuzzy the Unicorn, because it makes him feel tall.
Well, you know right there that if a 5'6" tall man feels tall around someone else, that means the someone else is TINY.
King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, aka BoomFuzzy the Unicorn, or just Unicorn for short, is one of the shortest characters in the series, measuring in at only 5'1"
Other short characters in the series include Roderic at 5'4" and his son Etiole at 5'3".
The shortest male of the series however is FarDarrig at 4'8".
With the lone exception of GhoulSpawn, you will notice that Quaraun has a tendency to befriend men who are shorter then he himself is.
GhoulSpawn, towers over Quaraun, and while his exact height is never said, it is stated many times that most Humans fear GhoulSpawn for his ungainly height. And as many Humans in the series are said to be 6 feet tall or more, the reader can then safely assume that GhoulSpawn is somewhere in the range of being about 6'4"
While one of the tallest men in the series, GhoulSpawn is not the tallest, as Luke stands at 6'8" and Crown Prince Talska ranks as the tallest male in the series, standing 7'2" tall.
And back to this comment...
>>Why stop at the nose? There are cheekbones, temples, shoulders, and elbows you could also be describing. Let the reader use their imagination. Why bother with gender? Why bother with age? Ethnicity? Body type? Hell, why bother even establishing if they're human or not? Those are impediments putting your characters into a box. They could just as easily be formless titles with the reader throwing in the rest.
specifically...
>>Body type?
Height is only one aspect of Quaraun's body type. And if you are a fan of the series, you know all to well, that as much as being short bothers him, there is something else about his body, that upsets him far more...
The scars.
If you are not familiar with the series, in the novel BoomFuzzy, is a scene known as "The Hanging Tree".
Before you read any further, I should probably add a note here, that I write CBT Yaoi Horror Gorn Fantasy.
That's cock and ball torture that's VERY extreme.
Quaraun comes from a culture that outlaws same sex couples and is hiding that fact that he has a male lover. When he is accused of bedding with other males, he does not deny it and openly admits to having sex with other men, not realizing that this will incit his accusers into an angry mob, that next strips him naked, drags him to the center of town and publically tortures him, with most of the village coming forward to join in.
The infamous highly detail, incredibly grizzly scene that got the series banned off FanFiction.net followed, as one Elf, pulled out a knife and forces it up into Quaraun's penis, then ripped the knife in a backward motion, slicing Quaraun's penis completely in half, leaving behind a scar known as "a sub penal incision". Following this Elf's example, other village slash Quaraun, belly, thighs, and groin with knives, leaving him horribly scarred for life.
When they finished torturing him, Quaraun is left for dead, his bloody remains used as bait to capture The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.
Unknown to the Elves however is the fact that it was the Elf Eater himself who is Quaraun's lover, and upon discovering what the Elves did to Quaraun, the Elf Eater slaughtered the Moon Elves, then takes Quaraun and spends the next several months nursing the dying Elf back to health. Quaraun eventually recovered, but he is left with a crippled leg, severe PTSD, rampant phobia that cripple his ability to function in society, and the horrific scars that he often bemoans.
Quaraun's mutilated penis, leaves him with self esteem issues far above and beyond any caused by his being short.
Quaraun is bi-sexual, having both male and female lovers, but after the attack, he rarely has sexual intercourse with anyone, citing that doing so is both embarrassing and painful for him.
As previously stated, Quaraun is incredibly beautiful and women are constantly throwing themselves at him... and then I told you how, he'll just as easily fuck her on one page then cut her head off on the next.... here's why...
Quaraun, will have sex with women who approach him asking to do so, but almost no one is aware of his scars, or his badly mutilated penis. And most women, once they see this, are quick to no longer desire him. Many are quick to tease him or cide him. If the woman simply says she changed her mind and leaves quietly, that's be the end of it. But when a woman laughs at him, or worse teases him he's quick to pull a knife on her, rape her, then slit her throat.
And thus yet again,we see that descriptions of body type become important to the story. Knowing that Quaraun is scared and mutilated, that he goes to great extreme to keep this hidden, and knowing that otherwise he is highly sought after gorgeous beauty, shows the reader the duel side of his personality.
Quaraun loves the company of women. He is often seen sitting in taverns with multiple prostitutes on his lap and in his arms. He's quick to dote on beautiful women, buying them gifts, hugging and kissing them... but he's also just as quick to push them away should their hand stray to reach for his cock. He's quick to pay prostitutes to lay in bed with him, and NOT have sex with him.
The reader, knowing about his scars, knowing how badly his penis is damaged, knows why he does these things, he loves women, he loves being with women, he desires to fuck women, but he also fears women, and won't let them see him naked, won't let them touch him, and refuses to fuck them, resulting in his often being hurt by the women then calling him arrogate, when in fact, he's very shy.
While the women in the story do not understand is strange sexless nature, the reader, having already be told, knows why Quaraun acts as he does. But had the description of his mutilated genitals not been there, the reader would be as clueless as the women in the story.
In GhoulSpawn and The Lich Lord's Lover, we see a scene which described both the scars and the penis rings and also explains the function of the rings and why they are there:
“You just watched him do that to me didn't you?”
“I... uhm... yes, I did.”
“Why?”
“Uhm...”
Quaraun turned over, letting his privates rub against GhoulSpawn's hand and looked up at GhoulSpawn to see his reaction. GhoulSpawn looked away, embarrassed.
“You want to fuck me too, don't you?”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
“You're wanting to fuck me right now.”
”Yeah. I shouldn't. I'm sorry.”
“If you thought you could get away with it, would you?”
“Maybe. I don't know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't think about you like that.”
“No, you shouldn't.” Quaraun sat up. ”But everyone does. I'm used to it. I'm the single most beautiful creature on the planet. Everything that exists wants to be in me or on me or impregnated by me. I hate it.”
Quaraun took hold of GhoulSpawn's hand and brought it down over his crotch.
“You can touch me, GhoulSpawn. I don’t mind.”
“I... uhm...”
“Are you bothered by my scars?”
GhoulSpawn looked down a the Elf's damaged dick. “No.”
Quaraun’s belly, groin, and thighs were covered in scars. It looked as though someone had taken a serrated knife and stabbed him dozens of times, dragging the blade through his flesh as they did.
The scars Quaraun had mentioned, GhoulSpawn could now see, were not just on the Elf's belly and thigh, but extended also to his penis. It was pale petal pink in colour, thick and uncut.
There were several deeply ridged scars across the top of it and one very large one running the entire underside.
GhoulSpawn had heard of the day these scars had been made. The Hanging Tree. Quaraun and Unicorn talked of it often.
The day the Moon Elves had attempted to castrate Quaraun. Cutting off a man's dick was not a quick or easy job. And an uncut man had a slippery sheath to cut through before getting to his dick.
Though GhoulSpawn had seen the scars from a distance before, he’d never seen them this close up before. Quaraun was usually quick to cover and hide his scars.
While Quaraun was not fully castrated, his penis was badly mutilated, and his ability to have sex with any one was desperately limited by the horrific scars left behind. The foreskin was still intact, mostly, but it was covered in scars and held together by rows of tiny gold hoop earrings which Quaraun had used to reattach the delicate skin. Pulling back the skin, to expose the penis inside, revealed the real damage though.
GhoulSpawn could see now that Quaraun’s fear of sex, was caused by the great amount of pain he had suffered during the hanging tree event.
Quaraun spoke fearfully of sex, terrified to let any one touch his penis, and then began rambling gibberish about his father, whenever anyone asked to see his scars.
GhoulSpawn could see now this is what Quaraun was talking about.
To punish his son for bedding with BoomFuzzy, the old Elf King had tied Quaraun by his ankles from the limb of a tree, striped him naked, and than with hundreds of strangers gathered around to watch a public execution, rammed a stiletto dagger up into his son's dick.
With one dagger in place, it was quickly followed by another.
A third had sliced up in, tearing the flesh clean through, leaving a vast incision on the underside of his penis, one that left Quaraun unable to easily have intercourse with women and also left him life long difficulty in being able to pee or cum.
Quaraun had used hooped earrings to try to close the wound and help it heal. The row of tiny gold hoops, still lined the underside of his foreskin. He had never removed them.
His penis had nearly been sliced in two lengthwise. The gold rings were the only things holding it together.
GhoulSpawn cringed at the thought of how painful it must have been for Quaraun to go through this.
With no doctoring been done, no doctor willing to help a male, who'd been thus punished for bedding with other males, the wound was left to heal on it's own, with no stitches to guide the skin back into it's proper place or balms to lessen the scaring. Only the gold hoop earrings, which Quaraun was scared to remove.
“You want to fuck me, don’t you?”
Quaraun’s words brought GhoulSpawn out of his thoughts.
“Everyone does. I'm used to it. I'm used to being sexually abused, molested, and raped on a mostly daily basis. I haven't got the strength to fight.”
GhoulSpawn pulled his hand away.
“What just happened, was that rape?”
“Unicorn? No. Unicorn doesn't rape me. I like Unicorn. He gets too rough sometimes, but... I like that too. He knows how to make me hurt in ways that make me not want to say no to it. It hurts, what he does, but it's a good hurt. I like pain when he does it. It wouldn’t be rape if you did it either, GhoulSpawn. I like your sheep wool, quite a lot. Your woolly sheep legs are beautiful. I’ve never been with a man who was half sheep before.”
GhoulSpawn didn't know what to say.
“If you're not gonna fuck me, help me up,” Quaraun said as he reached his hand up to the half-sheep-Sun Elf.
GhoulSpawn, helped Quaraun to his feet.
“Do you want me too...”
“Too...?” Quaraun waited for GhoulSpawn to finish what he started to ask but the half-Elf was too embarrassed to continue.
“Do I want you to fuck me?”
“Yeah.”
“I don't think I'd say no if you did. I know I wouldn’t.”
Quaraun stumbled and it occurred to GhoulSpawn, that the Moon Elf was drunk and not fully in control of what he was doing or saying.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Not sure. I think I was. Was I?”
“You don't know if you've been drinking?”
“I think, Unicorn slipped something into my drink or my food. He often does. Have we passed any fields of poppies lately? Oooh. Was I eating chocolate?”
“You was.”
“Ahhh! BoomFuzzy’s BoomFudgy Apricot Stuffed Chocolate
Covered Marshmallow Fuzzy Wuzzy Fluffy Bunnies. Apricots.”
“Can you get high off apricots?”
“The seeds. Yes.”
“The seeds? Apricot seeds are what they arsenic out of.”
“Yes. That.”
“Is he putting arsenic in your food? That’ll kill you.”
“Am I alive?”
“Aren’t you?”
“A JellyFish ate my brain.”
“I know.”
“Pumpkins are eating the moon.” Quaraun pointing up at the crumbling moon, while leaning heavily on GhoulSpawn.
GhoulSpawn stared up at what was left of the moon. He wondered how much more of it would have to fall off before the entire planet blew up.
“We have to get back to our own time. Before the rest of the moon is gone. This is a bad future.”
“The world is dying.”
“I wish I knew what it was.”
“There was a black cat.”
“Okay.”
“Bobcat.”
“Wait, what?”
“A black bobcat.”
“Here?”
“Yes. Do you know one?”
“I do.”
“From your time?”
“Yes. Well... no. She’s in my time. She's from the future. 2525. The end of the world. She's in 1974 right now trying to figure why the world... ended. Oh my god. Are we in 2525? Oh that's bad if we are. According to everyone they rescued and brought back to my time, the whole planet just imploded. They said it was like the planet came alive and ... and ate itself and killed everyone one it when it did. We've never been so far into the future before. She’s studying Roderic. Well, not Roderic. His house. She thinks the house somehow caused it.”
“Studying a house?”
“It’s haunted. Or something. Some creature locked in the basement and another one in the attic. The house comes alive whenever one of them gets upset. I don't know much about it. It supposedly comes to life and eats people.”
“Ah! Like gingerbread!”
“What?”
“BoomFuzzy’s gingerbread house does that. Comes to life and eats people.”
"I saw them once. The child in the attic and the horse in the basement. But it's not a child nor a horse. SunT'a and Antares. SunT'a has more earrings than you. He's mute. He can't talk. His face is mutilated. You can't tell what he used to look like. They wanted me to meet him. I don't know why. They said they were hoping it'd change things. In the future. I guess it didn't."
"And the horse?"
"It wasn't a horse. I don't what it was. It was shaped like a horse. But you could see through it. Like it was a ghost. It has The Crystal Plague. They said it's the source of the plague. They said blue crystals appear wherever it walks. And any one who comes in contact with them becomes infected. The horse breaths blue flames, turns everything to ice. It knew me. It went out of it's mind when it saw me. They had to call in BlackBird to calm it down."
"BlackBird?"
"He's a Phooka. One of the last. There's only 5 left. The entire galaxy is scared of him. People say he makes The Elf Eater look like a saint. He's friends with King Vielder and Melaca. "
"You suggest there is an evil greater than King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley?"
"The time I come from is more violent and hostile than your time."
"I... ugh... excuse me."
Quaraun suddenly staggered away from GhoulSpawn while vomiting. Afterwards Quaraun sat on his knees looking like he was about to pass out.
"Are you okay?"
"I think... I think... I might maybe me be drunk. Lil bit."
“I think you need lay back down and sleep off whatever is in your head.”
“There's a Jellyfish in my head. No sleeping that off. Of course Santa's Elves seem to be twirling around my head right now too. I wonder where they came from. Heh! Look at the pink frogs. Should send them after your pink sheep.”
“I think your high. You should lay down.”
“I'm gonna agree with that, just because the world is spinning around me too much for me to stand up any more. I feel like I’m gonna fall over.”
"You're already on your knees."
"Huh? No wonder the ground's so close."
GhoulSpawn helped Quaraun lay back down and then left.
And there you go.
Now you can see how I write descriptions of what a character looks like, weaving it into the dialogue and actions so that descriptions are part of the story and not just stand alone exposition that brings the reader out of the immersion.
But this commenter said:
>>Body type?
And by body type people often mean something like:
Rarely does someone say body type and mean tall or short or scars or not.
In my own books you rarely see these sorts of descriptions, unless it becomes important.
For example, in The Obsidian Idol of The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, we have the story when Quaraun and Unicorn's lover's spat fighting, gets out of control, the two becoming very violent towards one another, resulting in Quaraun, letting his villainous nature show, when he plots to murder Unicorn, and then carries out that plot, nearly killing his long time lover.
Terrified that Quaraun will try again and succeed at killing him, Unicorn leaves. Runs away, and we see one of the brief periods of the series where stories exist with Quaraun alone, without Unicorn with him.
At first this seems like it does not fit what we are talking about... however... Unicorn is highly suicidal and in every single novel he is in, there is always a suicide scene where he kills himself. Being a Lich, he always resurrects the next day.
After the lovers break up, Unicorn become more depressed and more suicidal than ever. His inability to kill himself and stay dead, makes him even more depressed, resulting in him going to extremes to try to find ways to kill himself and stay dead.
After they break up, the next time the reader sees Unicorn is in the novel The Vulgar Alchemist Inn, where, Quaraun, GeaLuna, and Bullgaar set out looking for Unicorn, and find him in a horrific state. Several years have passed between Obsidian Idol and Vulgar Alchemist,, and in that entire time, Unicorn has refused to eat anything, in an attempt to starve himself to death.
This becomes one of the few times you see a character body type description in the series. Unicorn is here described as skeletal, his flesh and muscles melted away, his skin clinging to his bones, a horrific side effect of his having not eaten anything in the past 3 years. But he, being a Lich, is still alive. But humger has also driven him mad and this skeleton like monster rises up and attacks his friends. It's the first time in the series when the read sees the Lich, turn into a blue flaming skeleton, revealing to them all that a skeleton is in fact the Lich's true form and everything else was just illusions.
This skeleton is seen on the cover art of GhoulSpawn and the Lich Lord's Lover, another volume in witch Unicorn's skeletal body type is described.
While never described in detail or narrative, one can make assumptions about Quaraun's figure, by reading Unicorn's dialogue.
Early in the series when Quaraun is young, Unicorn makes statements like "You need to eat more" often telling Quaraun you could stand to gain a few pounds" or "here eat another cake, you need to fat on your bones".
These early novels clue the reader in on the fact that Quaraun is thin, skinny, and possably underweight... or at least Unicorn thinks so.
You also hear Unicorn say he likes "plump Elves" and you see him making lewd, lust filled, highly sexual remarks to overweight women, indicating he likes his lovers to be on the heavier side, which also tells the reader that while Unicorn thinks Quaraun is too skinny, it's possible that Quaraun is in fact not skinny at all, seeing how Unicorn prefers fatter sex partners.
In the later novels of the series when Quaraun is older, you see that over time Quaraun's body has changed, because Unicorn begins to refer to Quaraun has "chubby" and having "luscious curves", cluing the reader in to the fact that as he go older, Quaraun gained weight.
How much Quaraun weight is never said, and if he actually ever is fat or skinny is also never stated. You only ever see Unicorn's statements, and anyone who reads the series, knows how little trust they can put in anything a Trickster Fae like Unicorn says.
Only twice in the series do you ever see a description of Quaraun's body, and again, this is because it is important to the plot. In the two parl story that makes up Zebulon's Captive and My Two Favourite People, we see Quaraun captured by slave traders and sold to an Elf Breeding farm where at first he is treated well, but his refusal to breed with the females given to him, results in his receiving progressively harsher treatment until eventually he is beaten by Zebulon, in a drunk rage.
Quaraun, now 750 years old, is very weak, an elderly Elf that has lived far past the typical 500 year lifespan of Elves. His body is physically weak, his metabolism malfunctioning, and the old Elf is no longer able to withstand much of a beaten.
Depressed, and now living shackled in chains in a cage barely big enough for him to either stand or lay down in, Quaraun begins refusing to eat. As the months move forward the reader now sees descriptions telling them, that yes indeed, as he got older he did become overweight, but now, refusing to eat and with his ancient organs no longer functioning properly, he starts losing weight rapidly.
Quaraun is Zebulon's captive for a grueling 70 years, before finally escaping and finding his way back to his own time. Once reunited to Unicorn, the reader sees conflicting descriptions, of a young, healthy, plumper Quaraun, that they know, simply does not exist, as Quaraun is now using glimmer spells and illusions to hide from Unicorn what he looks like after so many decades enslaved by Zebulon.
Unicorn immediately realizes something is wrong, because Quaraun now looks younger and healthier then the had in centuries.
In this case once again, describing these changes in appearance are important to the plot, thus you see them described.
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>>Hell, why bother even establishing if they're human or not?
Racism is a dominant theme in the Quaraun series, with Elves, Humans, Half-Elves, Faeries, and Demons at constant odds with one another. Knowing who is what, becomes important to the plot.
>>Those are impediments putting your characters into a box.
Yes. And that box is a little thing with authors like to call a plot and a storyline.
>>They could just as easily be formless titles with the reader throwing in the rest.
I read a book like this once. It fell flat.
>>I totally misread that as "formless titties".
ROTFLMAO!
>>I'm reading a book at the moment with little character description, but I can tell you that the main character has a small chicken pox scar on her left cheek that she plays with when she's nervous.
>>To me, that provides more insight into the character than a detailed description of hair/eye colour, etc. It's something memorable and personal to that character.
I agree with this, which is why, I focus more on habits then physical descriptions.
A roll of the eyes says more then the eyes being a certain colour.
I also realize that readers are often quick to forget lengthy descriptions.
If you open the book, describing the character then never mention what they look like again, you end up with the reader forgetting what they look like anyways.
This is why you don't see me writing the lengthy descriptions at all, and instead see constant reminders of important features.
Ket's for example, go to The Night of The Screaming Unicorn, and see how many times the reader is told that Quaraun has blue eyes...
Page 16:
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.
Page 57:
Quaraun turned back to face the dark Faerie, his blue eyes widened by the sudden realization what the Phooka had in mind.
Page 64:
The Phooka jumped forward again and was now nose to nose with Quaraun once again. Looking deep into Quaraun's pale icy blue, pink pupiled eyes, searching for the truth behind the illusion.
Page 72:
"No, this is true. Ya did no. Ya svá did no tell me you name. Flesh warping Necromancer Elf from the Deep Far North, wid opaline skin as pale and luminescent as the moon, eyes blue as the frozen glaciers of the North Sea, and women's robes as pinks as lovely roses. Folks whose bodies vanished without a trace. A lot of Elves went missing, did they not? Do ya reanimate the dead?"
Page 87:
Quaraun had been looking out the window until he heard the Phooka jumping around on the furniture and turned to see a strange looking Elf standing uncomfortably close to him. He 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, the man 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 blue eyes. This Elf'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 this Elf 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 eagle talons which tipped each finger. Quaraun gasped and stepped away, for the creature had turned himself into the long dead candy making Moon Elf, BoomFuzzy.
~From "The Night of The Screaming Unicorn" (Volume 1 of The Quaraun Series)
I just used the find.replace feature to search the manuscript of the finished book, and we find that Quaraun's blue eyes have been described Five times.
Now, let's look in BoomFuzzy and see how many times his blue eyes are described there...
Page 40:
Moon Elves all had pale icy 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. There was no doubt in Quaraun's mind that this was a shape shifting Trickster Fae.
Page 46:
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 blue eyes. Ha! ha! Yis in shock over me ain't ya."
"You... your... very bold."
"And ya very pretty."
"What are you?"
Page 93:
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because ya is hurt. And I feel bad yis hurt. I feel bad that I hurt ya before. I will no hurt ya again.”
"Have you drunk it before?"
"Aye. I'll drink it now, if it helps ya feel safe. We can both be out of the loop together."
BoomFuzzy took the mug from the Elf and drank half of it himself, then handed it back to Quaraun.
"There. Now we'll both see strange things."
Quaraun stared at BoomFuzzy. His pink-veined blue eyes were wide with fear. He looked back down at the drink. His teeth were really hurting. The pain shot from his jaw to his head, like a hammer was knocking him in the face over and over again. Quaraun drank the drink and handed the mug back to BoomFuzzy.
"Ya gonna want to lay down. It's gonna do weird things to ya head. I is gonna want to lay down. It gonna do weird things to my head. Ooooh. That ought to be fun. Us in bed together with weird things happening to our heads. Ha ha!"
Before Quaraun had a chance to think about it, BoomFuzzy, grabbed the Elf and tossed him onto the bed, then leapt onto the bed beside him, and began passionately kissing the Elf all over his body, in between tickling him.
Page 151:
Quaraun's icy white blue eyes were cold. 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 any more. BoomFuzzy had said it many times before, but BeaLuna didn't want to believe it. Quaraun was dead. He'd been dead a long time. A Thullid had taken up residence in his body, infesting him, infecting him, when he was just 3 years old, and eventually devouring his brain and replacing it with it's own brain. Quaraun the Elf had died centuries ago, at the young age of only 9 years old, and all that remained was the empty husk that was reanimated by the tiny pink jellyfish living in the dead Elf's hallowed out skull. Looking into Quaraun's emotionless dead eyes, you knew something was wrong with him. Quaraun was nothing but the long dead corpse of an Elf whose body had become the home of an alien sea creature. Quaraun had become someone else. He had become a Thullid.
~From "BoomFuzzy" (Volume 3 of The Quaraun Series)
And so here we find Quaraun's eyes described as blue, four times.
And how many times can we find Quaraun's blue eyes in Swamp of death?
Page 64:
Most people, upon meeting the duo shrunk in fear from the wild haired Phooka with his fearsome piranha like fangs and huge razor sharp black eagle-taloned claws. And yet most people felt safe in the presence of the calm, friendly looking albino wizard, with smooth silken white hair, and icy silvery pale light blue eyes.
But to fear the Phooka and trust the Elf would have been foolish folly, for the Phooka was more or less harmless. Usually. He talked a good show and could be very fierce and menacing if he wanted to be, but it was often a bluff, as Unicorn was a peaceful creature who only killed for food. Usually. There were times, when he reverted back to his current true form, that of a Lich horse, and froze everyone around him in a Lich-crazed fury, for buried deep in Unicorn’s soul, was the Lich that Quaraun was struggling to keep under control: The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, leader of the Lich Lord’s and all that remained of Quaraun’s former lover, BoomFuzzy.
Page 90:
"Haha! Do ya know," the Vampire continued. "That ya are absolutely most beautiful thing We has ever seen."
"Yes, everyone keeps telling me that. That's the problem of being an Elf. Eternal beauty and everyone, everywhere wants to fuck you because of it. Eternal beauty is a curse. Everyone, everywhere I go wants to fuck me. Humans especially! I've got young Human girls tossing themselves in my lap everywhere I go. Do you have any idea how many times I've had a Human fling herself on me and introduce herself by saying how much she loves my blue eyes and wants to have my babies? And I don't even like women! And men are always wanting to fuck me too. Though most of them, usually keep it to themselves. It’s very annoying.”
“That they keep it to themselves?”
“That they want to fuck me.”
“We want to fuck ya.”
“Like I said. Everyone, everywhere I go.”
Page 90 & 91:
“I'm scarred.”
“That scar is always gonna bother ya, isn't it?”
“My body would be flawless without it.”
“Most Necromancers are old un hideous. Corrupt they bodies as well as they souls. Flesh Warpers. Do no do that. Yis much too pretty for it. Un damn, ya really DO have most amazing blue eyes. We does'na tinks We ever noticed that before. Never twere able to see ya eyes. They are bluer then clear blue cloudless sky. We tinks We’ll agree with Human girls, if We twere woman, We would be wanting lots of babies by ya too, so they all could all have yar blue eyes."
"I'm not sure if I should be scared of you or thank you for the complement."
"Maybe ya should let me fuck ya un find out."
Quaraun stared down at the drink he'd been drinking, which the Vampire had stopped refilling now that he was more absorbed in sniffing Quaraun's hair and licking his neck. The Vampire had a distinctive scent of cinnamon and cloves and gingerbread to him. Quaraun was beginning to feel very, very strange. He looked up at the room. It twisted and swirled out of place. The patrons in the tavern flickered on and off light candles trying not to blow out. The only thing that wasn't moving and twisting out of shape was the Vampire across from him at the table. It was only then that Quaraun realized the table, the floor, the building, and even the people wandering around the inn were made out of gingerbread.
“BoomFuzzy.”
“What?”
“BoomFuzzy. He was an Illusionist. He made his illusions out of gingerbread.”
“Ya seeing gingerbread? Ya ain't had drink in smiggin oov ah wee bit, eh?”
"This place isn't real."
"Seeing that are ya? Maybe ya need more to drink."
Quaraun looked down at his drink. It was now orange with blue polka dots.
"What is this drink?"
"Angelic Ecstasy Ambrosia. They say that once ya drink it, ya become addicted to it. Yis aboot on yar 30th glass in last few hours. Un ya, me pretty wee lil Elf, ya've been sitting here drinking it for days now. Yis aboot ready to just fly to moon."
"What is in it?"
"No one knows."
"You're a Faerie aren't you? This is Fae food. You drugged me."
The Vampire flashed a wild Cheshire cat grin. "Brouhaha! Wooooooh oooh oooh! Haha! Hehe, ha haha! Oh, aye, We most certainly did. Poison frogs, hallucinogenic chocolate cloustered undead apricots, un psychedelic mushrooms are somewhat of speciality of mine.”
“BoomFuzzy.”
“Ahyah.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because ya did something fucking bad un ya forgot what it twere.”
Page 97 & 98:
The Vampire felt Quaraun struggling beneath him as he continued to feed on the Elf's warm blood. The Vampire's eyes closed as the hot thick red liquid filled his mouth, sliding down his throat. After a few moment the Vampire released Quaraun licking the last of the blood from the Elf's wound. Quaraun fell back against the bed releasing the tension on his bindings. His body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. His breathing had turned quick and shallow.
"Ya taste wonderful," he cooed in Quaraun's ear. "Yar flavour is like fine wine, succulent, addictive un oh so delectably sweet. Yar beautiful opal white skin un whisper blue eyes."
The Vampire crawled up the length of the Elf's body and sat straddling his chest. Naked together they were an impressive sight and the Vampire took the time to admire the image they created. Lovingly the Vampire reached out and caressed the Elf's face. Quaraun shuddered at his touch pulling his cheek away. The Vampire caressed his face, running his hands down the Elf's neck lightening the touch until it was just the tips of his fingers moving across his collarbone and down along his chest. The Vampire could hear his heart beat and new the moment it increased in speed; the Vampire could sense the warming of his blood and felt it rushing through his veins.
"But ya still fear me. Ya really do'na have to. We seek pleasure from ya. We would not give me pleasure to watch ya die. Ya must try to believe We is na going to harm ya."
The Vampire straddled Quaraun's hips, lowered his cock down on top of him and ground it into his pubic hairs. The texture thrilled both men as they moaned in pleasure. Quaraun's breath became more ragged as his balls tightened. He groaned in mixed pleasure and fear when he felt a hot cock coming down and pressing on his now hard dick. The Vampire ground his groin hard against Quaraun's forcing their cocks to squish together. It felt as though the Vampire was holding his cock over an open flame.
"That one of things We likes aboot ya. Ya has wonderful pair of balls. We is type of guy, who really has swinging ball fetish, We does'na care aboot penis size, as long as guy has swinging balls, un that is reason We likes ya. Me wee lil peach fuzzy apricot. Oh We has always like that aboot ya. We used to give ya drugged candied apricots to get ya in bed with me. Do ya remember that?"
The Vampire brought his face against Quaraun's so that they were nose to nose. He stared into the Elf's icy blue eyes though his dark chocolate eyes.
"We had ya addicted to apricots. That hows We got ya bed with me now. That wine ya has been drinking all night. It made with apricots. BoomFuzzy's special apricots. Off me special undead apricot trees. Yar so predictable Quaraun. Ya always fall hard for apricots."
~From "Quaraun and The Vampire Into The Swamp of Death" (Volume 8 of The Quaraun Series)
Seven times here.
I've done this, to show you how often I remind the reader of certain features of a character, and to show you that I don't use info dumps of just one big long description of the character at the beginning, either.
I find this method to be a much better way of describing a character's features, as it is done through the story, in the conversations and naraton, without stopping the story to have the character go look in a mirror and yap about themselves.
>>I feel like you can really paint a mental image of a character by describing a unique feature, something that stands out to the narrator, or just broad strokes. I like to know if a character has a big bushy lumberjack beard, or long hair down to their waist.
>>Sure. A unique feature like that strikes me as something that would be important. Other characters would react to it or it can tell readers something about the character.
>>I think each char should have a recognisable feature.
Yep, me too.
Quaraun has his mega long, floor sweeping Rapunzel hair, that trips him and everyone around him, while getting stuck in every tree branch, dragged through the mud, enemies easily catch him by grabbing his hair,....but he won't cut it because he's the world's most powerful wizard and he swears up and down that never having cut his hair is the source of his power.
His insanely long hair becomes so important to the plot that it almost becomes a character itself on it's own.
With the reader focused on his daily struggle to get through life as his hair continually gets longer and (eventually later in the series reaching 12 feet long) more and more un-manageable.
Showing what he looks like becomes unimportant, because this one feature about him, says more about who he is, then all the physical descriptions of his face, I could ever write.
"Will you stop touching me!" Quaraun yelled at Unicorn.
"No. I refuses to."
Quaraun had just finished brushing his twelve foot long hair, an endeavour that took several hours, and was attempting to fold and pin it back up into the more manageable four foot length style he usually kept it in.
Unicorn, a little black furred trickster Faerie pony with a gleaming silver horn on his head, had decided it would be great fun to mess the Elf's hair back up. He had run up behind the Elf and twirled Quaraun's Rapunzel locks around his horn, but when he tried to run off afterwards, somehow got his horn stuck in Quaraun's impossibly long hair, which Quaraun was now trying to untangle.
“I canna move,” Unicorn whimpered mournfully, now regretting having messed with the Elf's hair.
“You shouldn't have stuck your horn in my hair.”
Unicorn shook his dreadlocked mane, trying to get his horn out of Quaraun's hair, but just made the tangled mess worse.
“Stop moving,” Quaraun snarled.
“Just grab some scissors and cut it.”
“I'm not cutting my hair! My father cut my hair. I'm never cutting my hair again.”
“Ya Daddy issues is becoming problem.”
“Shut up.”
“What ya gonna do in a few years when ya needs servants to carry ya hair?”
“It won't get that long.”
“No? It already long enough that ya always tripping on it. And ya canna sit down any more without making a fuss over where to puts ya hair otherwise ya can'na move iffy ya sits on it.”
Quaraun's pink pupiled blue eyes flashed with anger, as he continued, now silently to unwrap his hair from the pony's spiralled horn.
“Ya too easy for enemies to catch now. Ya wants to run away, all dey has to do is grab ya hair un then ya canna move.”
“I'm not cutting my hair.”
“Ya does nae have to cut it short. Just cut two or t'ree feet off of it.”
Unicorn wiggled again.
“Stop moving. You're making it worse.”
“Dis were bad idea.”
“Obviously.”
“Why did I do dis?”
“Because you're a nut.”
“I wants to run free. Galloping through the fields,” Unicorn moaned sadly.
“You could be if you hadn't been trying to annoy me.”
“It fun to annoys ya. Makes me horny unicorny.”
“Stop moving.”
“I can nots.”
"Stop it!"
"No."
"I'm gonna push you off a cliff," the pink Necromancer snarled.
"Oooooooooh!" the undead pony whinnied excitedly. "Go ahead. I ain't died by cliff death yet. Might be fun to die cliff death. Shatter me guts all over de rocks, let the birds feast on me entrails. Heck, let me know the next cliff ya sees un I'll save ya the trouble un go jump off it meself. Goody, goody, goody, goody. A new way to die!"
Quaraun glared at the Unicorn, who right now was purple and had a mouthful of Quaraun's long white hair gripped firmly in his teeth, chewing on it as though it were hay.
~From "The Summoner of Darkness" (Volume 11 of The Quaraun Series)
>>I generally go by the rule of one paragraph for person, and maybe one for outfit. The idea is to make it easy for a reader to determine if they're in a description paragraph and to skip to the next if they're simply not interested.