Noses, Penis Piercings, And Rapunzel Hair
aka
Flamboyant Nipples & Wizard Testicles
Writing Character Descriptions
A Very Detailed Look At How I Write The
(Very X-Rated & Often Controversial)
Character Descriptions of The Quaraun Series


(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




Noses, Penis Piercings, And Rapunzel Hair
aka
Flamboyant Nipples & Wizard Testicles
Writing Character Descriptions
A Very Detailed Look At How I Write The
(Very X-Rated & Often Controversial)
Character Descriptions of The Quaraun Series

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.

Noses, Penis Piercings, And Rapunzel Hair 
Writing Character Descriptions

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:

  • they've never published anything
  • they never plan to publish anything
  • having a goal to publish is arrogant and self serving and to be avoided
  • they hated English class in school
  • writing is dull and boring
  • reading is dull and boring
  • no one in their right mind reads books these days
  • they are writing only because they saw a movie and wanted to write a similar story
  • they have never willingly read a book, nor would they

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.

  • they've never published anything

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.

  • they never plan to publish anything

Again, not a bad thing. Not everyone writers to become published. The problem here is again, giving advice one is not qualified to give.

  • having a goal to publish is arrogant and self serving and to be avoided

Okay, this one is just stupid. There is nothing wrong with publishing your work. There is nothing wrong with not publishing your work.

  • they hated English class in school

Uhm... oooo kaaaay... so why exactly are you on a writing forum giving writing advice when you hate writing?

  • writing is dull and boring

Again... why are you on a writing forum giving writing advice when you hate writing?

  • reading is dull and boring

I'm just gonna keep asking... why are you on a writing forum giving writing advice when you hate writing?

  • no one in their right mind reads books these days

Yep... still asking... why are you on a writing forum giving writing advice when you hate writing?

  • they are writing only because they saw a movie and wanted to write a similar story

Well, okay. That's fine, but it doesn't mean you have a clue how to teach writing.

  • they have never willingly read a book, nor would they

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:

  • heavy on dialogue
  • low on description
  • heavy on relationship drama
  • low on action
  • high on sexual tension
  • low on battlefront action
  • heavy on the blood spatter, guts, and gorn
  • low on logic
  • heavy on scenes for entertainment
  • low of a reason for anything to be happening
  • heavily character driven
  • with no plots to be seen anywhere

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.

Though he is the main character of the series, this is one of only 4 covers to feature a picture of Quaraun himself.

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:

  • sight words
  • touch words
  • sound words
  • taste words
  • smell words

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.

>>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?

If you ever a read a scene describing what GhoulSpawn looks like, you know I fetishize him a LOT!

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:

A Scene Describing Quaraun's Scars & Penis Rings...

“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:

  • fat 
  • thin 
  • athletic 
  • chubby 
  • beefy 
  • anorexic 
  • obese
  • average
  • pear shaped

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.

>>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.

>>In truth, I recognize descriptions are like the vast majority of sex scenes - they're really just in there for interested readers, and typically don't add much if anything to the characters or the story.

>>I generally go by the rule of one paragraph for person, and maybe one for outfit.

not when your main character is a drag queen (mine is) then you spend 2 or 3 pages of every chapter describing what he has changed into, because Quaraun is a germaphobe and changes his dresses a dozen or more times a day. (No, I'm not joking, I actually write these clothing change scenes in every single novel.)

I also describe the scenes of him putting on his make-up, because he's constantly doing that, to the point that it annoys the other characters.

His hair also touches the ground and he spends 3 hours every day brushing it, which stops the plot to a dead halt, every time he does, because those scenes are described as well.

It shows him as the most annoyingly, self-centered narcissist that he is, and leaves other people wondering how the hell did he become the most evil and most powerful Necromancer of all time, when he's too busy screaming over a broken nail to get anything done.

he also carries a bag of holding in which he keeps a full length mirror and he pulls it out every few pages to fuss over his feather boas.


Quaraun glared at Unicorn.

"I do not approve of assigning gender to clothes. Anybody ought to be able to wear whatever they damned well want to wear without being told only males or females are allowed to wear it. There is no damned reason why only females can wear dresses. Tighten this damned thing for me. I can't do it myself." 

The Elf lifted his long hair around his shoulder, off his back, while holding one hand over his chest holding the pink lace corset in place. Unicorn moved around behind the Elf and cinched up the laces tightly. 

"That tight enough?"

"No."

"Really?"

"You can go tighter." 

"Ya sure?" 

"Yes." 

"Ya'll pass out." 

"I'll pass out any ways." 

"That true." 

Unicorn continued tighening the cords. Quaraun held his breath. Unicorn stopped pulling, to tie the ends. 

"Tighter," Quaraun said. 

"T'at gonna hurt." 

"Since when do I not like pain?"

"Too tight un ya'll crack ya ribs or rupture yar spleen."

"Tighter." 

"It can'na go tighter."

"Tighter!"

"It'll break ya ribs if it go much tighter." 

"It can go tighter." 

"I does no want to hurt ya." 

"I like it tight. I can't get it tight enough myself. I need you to do it." 

"I can t'ink of other things I like tight un would love to do." 

Quaraun looked back at Unicorn. 

"You don't have to fuck me every five minutes."

"Aye, I does."

"Later."

"Why not now?" 

"Just tighten my corset."

"I'd rather remove it."


~o0o~~o0o~~o0o~~o0o~

A scene of them being interrupted by Mallac, a Human soldier, has been removed for the sake of this excerpt.

~o0o~~o0o~~o0o~~o0o~



Bright coloured snowflakes of light bursts were flashing in front of his eyes, mixed in with a sinking blackness that was enveloping him. Quaraun didn't hear what the Human was saying, he was too busy hyperventilating from the panic attack that resulted from the Human's unexpected and threatening movements. Sight and sounds melded together into one. Seconds later, Quaraun was passed out on the floor.

Next thing Quaraun knew he was waking up, with Unicorn hovering worriedly over him.

"Yis okay?"

Quaraun stared up at Unicorn for a moment trying to remember where he was.

"I think so."

Unicorn had removed the corset and wrapped the Elf in one of his pink silk kimono instead.

"I told ya it was too tight," Unicorn chided.

Quaraun tried to sit up.

"I still feel light headed," he moaned as he laid back down.

"You pussy," Mallac yelled. 

"Leave 'im alone, ya git."

"I wasn't talking you."

Unicorn's eyes flared with rage, glowing red.A faint blue glow hovered around his body.

"Unicorn, don't," Quaraun said weakly.

The Lich did not listen. The undead beast saw this Human as a threat and was ready to turn into a blood thirsty skeletal beast to suck the life out of the soldier.

"Unicorn..." Quaraun forced himself up and pulled Unicorn away from Mallac. "He's not evil. He's not trying to hurt us."

"Him attacked ya."

"No. He didn't. He wasn't trying to hurt me. He was upset. His people are being killed and he was expecting us to help him stop the attacks. Some how he got his information wrong. He thought we abandoned him. You know what abandonment feels like. Better then most."

"I does. It no fun."

"He's frustrated and frightened. Something or someone is killing his friends and family. He's frightened, he's reacting out of fear." 

Quaraun turned to Mallac, then leaned again the bed to steady himself. He was breathing heavily trying to catch his breath.

"Oooh. I'm so dizzy."

"Damned corset were too tight on ya. Told ya. Ya would nay listen.

~From "The Summoner of Darkness" (Volume 11 of The Quaraun Series)



>>Everything should be there for a reason, I'd say.

>>My last novel was about sex, but I can say without hesitation and there wasn't a single sex scene in that book that wasn't there because it changed the characters, and the specifics of the scene was central to that change.

Ah... but what if you are writing a character driven story?

You know, the type that has no plot, and exists only for entertaining the reader?

And thus contains sex scenes simply because the readers wants to read a sex scene?

A scene that exists for entertainment value, is a reason for existing after all.

Plots are overrated.



>>And see, the problem with arguing the importance of sex scenes is that most writers think their sex scenes are important. 

I don't.

I'm fully aware that the sex scenes in my novels have absolutely no importance at all and could easily be removed without affecting the plot.

If there is sex in the story, it's because the character got horny while I was writing. It's almost never important to the plot and is added simply because the characters are going to refuse to let me write them any further into the story until they's relieved their tensions.

In other words, I'm fully aware that the sex scene isn't important and exists because I wanted to write a pair of dicks.

Of course then there are scenes like this...

Unicorn had often joked that Quaraun was his whore, citing that the Elf loved whoring himself to the Phooka. From what GhoulSpawn had seen, of Quaraun's daily baths, he knew this was true, Quaraun had no reason to bathe every day, indeed bathing was not exactly what he did. Unicorn watched from the shore, masturbating himself. When they were both ready to burst ropes of semen, Quaraun would leave the water, and sit on the Phooka's lap, sensually hugging and kissing him, while impaling his ass on the Phooka's throbbing cock. The bath was more of an act of foreplay before a lap dance. Quaraun acted like a female prostitute in heat, riding on the lustful Phooka, giving him a lap dance like nothing any female could have done.

When both men had finished cumming, Quaraun on the Phooka's belly and Unicorn in the Elf's ass, their loving making turned from sensual to wild, as the Phooka, pinned the Elf to the ground, the Elf holding himself very still, while the Phooka released the four very long, very sharp thorns that projected from his barbed penis after ejaculation and impaled them into the delicate flesh of the Elf's now stretched anus. Once the barbs were deep inside, they would extend even more, locked themselves deep into the Elf's flesh, like fish hooks, holding the Phooka in place, literally attaching the two of them together. Once the barbs were in, there was no way to tear the lovers apart, and like a dog with it's bitch, there was nothing Quaraun could do but screaming in agony while the Phooka fucked him with that huge barbed penis. An Elf's body was not made to be fucked by a Phooka – they were not entirely sexually compatible, which made their love making incredibly painful for the poor Necromancer. The thorns would not release until Unicorn calmed down and his penis went flaccid again, and as he was undead, he didn't tire out easily and could stay attached to Quaraun, cumming into him over and over again all night long, until the Elf finally passed out from exhaustion, at which point Unicorn word release the barbs, transform himself into a horse and fuck the Elf again, this time with a giant Fresian stallion cock.

Quaraun had told Unicorn many times he did not want to be fucked by a horse and so, Unicorn obediently wanted for the Elf to be unconscious before Unicorn fucked the Elf while he was a unicorn. GhoulSpawn often wondered if Quaraun knew how often the unicorn fucked him.

~From "GhoulSpawn and The Lich Lord's Lover" (Volume 22 of The Quaraun Series)

This scene doesn't actually show a sex scene, but rather describes a sex scene. It is very much telling instead of showing. The reason is because unlike scenes meant simply to be sex for sex's sake, this scene actually is important to the plot, thus why it is written different.

This would be a sex scene told through exposition, which is a bit none standard, but in this instance, done this way because the scene is being described by a 3rd party who is watching the two lovers.

You see the sex scene itself, intermingled with GhoulSpawn's thoughts, because the reader is seeing his reaction to what is going on. 

Likewise this sex scene spans only these 3 paragraphs of text, whereas other sex scenes in the series go on for page after page after page of detail and is told from the perspective of one of the lovers.

Most sex scenes in the Quaraun series are more sensual, but this one, you see as more brisk and gruff, less about trying to titillate the reader and more about GhoulSpawn trying to come to terms with what he is witnessing.

Quaraun and GhoulSpawn are both Elves, but Unicorn, is a Unicorn, and though GhoulSpawn was aware that Quaraun and Unicorn were lovers, just exactly want that means, is finally starting to sink in.

Thus you have a sex scene that is written, not to simply be sex for the sake of sex, but rather a sex scene written to show GhoulSpawn becoming upset over the fact that the man he loves (Quaraun) is not only in love with, but also has sex with, a horse.

Up until this point in the series, GhoulSpawn has made it known that he was interested in Quaraun, but he's held back on doing anything about it because he didn't want to break up Quaraun and Unicorn's relationship. However, Unicorn being a shape shifter, GhoulSpawn always saw him in a Human-like bi-pedal form. This is the first time GhoulSpawn is seeing Unicorn NOT in a Human form, while the lovers are engaged in sex. And the realization that: "OMG! That thing really is an animal" has just hit him, and results in his actions the following day.

His actions the following day being to get Quaraun alone, seduce him, and fuck the daylights out of him, in the first scene of the series where Quaraun and GhoulSpawn have sex.

>>And see, the problem with arguing the importance of sex scenes is that most writers think their sex scenes are important. 

So, there you go, an instance where a sex scene actually is important to the plot.

But, as you said, usually sex scenes in the Quaraun series have no plot importance and are just there to be there.

>>My best guess as to how many react to this: To many people it's like hearing a friend discuss how they banged their SO in excruciating detail.

YES.

That's exactly why instead of writing sex scenes, I write scenes of men sitting around describing their sex lives in excruciating detail. You don't know if they are exaggerating their sex lives or not because you didn't see the sex itself, you only have his word on how great of a love god he is.

This actually makes for fun writing, because you can describe the sex in some utterly insane way, and then have another character speak up in the middle of it and say: "That's not physically possible" then have them arguing over what they can and can not do in bed.

I find scenes like this much more interesting because you see more of the guy's personality and how he sees himself, whereas in a sex scenes all you get is A inserted into B, and not much character development.




>>So kinda like dicks when you're writing a sex scene?

I have to comment on this... because... I write Yaoi... yep... that's what I write.

How do I explain this?

There are 75 men in the series... not one of them ever gets his face described. Not once.

Dicks... that's another matter.

I write Yaoi... I can write (and have written) a 20 page essay on the description of one man's testicals, 20 more pages on his foreskin...and then do this same thing for 74 other characters and then write full essay comparing the differences of each.... and all 75 men in my books have very different balls. And they are all described in detail.

There isn't a reader of my novels who doesn't know in detail what Quaraun's genitals look like...including the scars, and the 52 piercings. Including Albert, Philip, and Edward piercings. This guy loves getting his dick pierced. A LOT. Scenes of him getting his dick pierced read like Erotica sex scenes.

I write CBT (Cock and Ball Torture) it's my job to know how to describe every detail possible of my characters' scrotums.

Describing noses, nope. Scrotums, yep. 

Quaraun's genitals get described more then most, partly because he is the main character, but also because he has a fetish for penis and testical torture and also because when he's not letting Unicorn do freaky shit to him, he wears an insane amount of various style penis and scrotum and nipple jewelry.

And if you didn't know Quaraun loved sounding. He's addicted to having objects, like unicorn horns and candy canes, inserted into his penis. Which is why he has not 1, but 2 penis piercings which feature a steel rod permanently inserted in his penis.

If you've never seen a Prince Albert peircing, it's a long steel sounding rod, inserted into the uthera, with a hopp ring on the end, that pierces through the top and bottom of the foreskin, holding the ring in place.

Here is what they look like not inserted:

He also wears cock rings, which are these:

My main character, Quaraun, is a Moon Elf who was raised by Demons, so he wears a lot of jewelry, and very flamboyant colours, and is seen by the other Elves as insane because of the way he dresses, thus why they call him "Quaraun the Insane". People (Elves and Humans) tend to tease him and bully him quite a lot because of it, thinking he's a vain, arrogant prissy, not really realizing there is an actual reason behind how he dresses that has nothing to do with vanity.

A list of his piercings/etc are as follows:

  • 24 gold rings in each ear (his ears are 12" long and described as "rabbit-like")
  • 3 gold nose rings, 1 in the center, and 1 on each side
  • 48 tiny gold chains, each chain going from one of the rings in his ears to 1 of the rings in his nose (this acts as a veil covering most of his face, leaving only his eyes and lips in view)
  • both nipples are pierced, gold rings, with decorative pink tormulian butterflies
  • multiple tiny gold chains connect between his nipple rings
  • a Prince Albert piercing (an L-shaped hollow rod that inserted into the penis -hollow so you can pee through it - and comes out a piercing at the top)
  • A Prince Edward peircing (same as an Albert, but pierce through the bottom instead)
  • (Yes, Albert & Edward are real piercings - Google them if you never heard of them before)
  • multiple scrotum piercing, tiny gold rings, lining down each side of each testicle creating a patterned design
  • multiple (dozens) tiny gold chains connecting the scrotum rings to each other, hanging over and in front of his penis, creating and sort of "apron" or "loin cloth" that hides his genitals from view
  • all the chains (face, chest, and groin) have tiny pink tourmaline crystal points hanging from them
  • his finger are completely hidden from view, covered by gold armor "dragon claws"
  • he also wears gold chain necklaces, bracelets, waist/belly chains, and anklets.

Scrotum rings are bar style nipple rings, that are pieced through the thin flesh of the ball sac without piercing the testicles themselves. By completely covering the scrotum with them, it gives the effect of having a disco ball hanging between the man's legs, which is what Quaraun has done.

Here are what those style rings look like:

Penis rings, the type that go through the glans head and sit on top of the slit, covering it, are also known as belly button rings. They look like this:

The style nipple rings that Quaraun wears, have a bar that pierces behind the nipple, making it stand out more, while having a drop charm underneath to highlight the nipple. They look like this:

To describe the jewelry he's wearing, I simply go to Amazon and look for jewelry and describe what it looks like, then describe his reactions to what it feels like to wear them.

Perhaps these scene come off as Erotica in the minds of readers, but, being someone who reads ACTUAL Erotica, I've never seen the Quaraun books as being anything even close to Erotica at all.

When compared to Erotica, the Quaraun books are actually rather tame and very vanilla.

I would like to be there when a person who calls my Quaraun books Erotica, reads some ACTUAL Erotica and gets blown for a major mind fuck when they realize what exactly Erotica ACTUALLY is.

If you think the Quaraun books are Erotica, I HIGHLY recommend you read THESE books, which ARE Erotica, than you come back to me and tell me you STILL think my Quaraun books are Erotica:

People say this is an issue of politics.

No. It isn't. It's an issue of evil people being evil. Nothing more and nothing less.

I think it doesn't matter if the author adds politics or not, because, readers are going to see what they want to see. 

I mean, here's some examples:

I have a main character who appears in a series, and, when readers get to volume 22 - twenty-two volumes into the series - is when they notice for the first time that he is black, even though there are 5,678 instances of him being outright CALLED "black" in volumes 1 to 21 (I checked) because a racist beats him up while calling him the N-word in a scene in that novel. I have received more than 2,000 hate emails for that scene, and at first, you might think the hate was because the book uses the N-word. No. Every one of those 2,000+ hate emails, tell me that I ought to be ashamed of myself for stooping so low as to put a black character in my novels, because no sane white person would write a black character, according to the emails, which went on to call me such things as "a N-lover" and they said I was a disgrace to my race, that I ought to be ashamed to be white  ... but, here's the thing: I'm not white and that character in question, is the exact same mix of 4 races as me: Middle-Eastern/Persian Mountain Jew/Gypsy + Kickapoo/Native American + Haitian/Black + Asian/Mongolian. 

Since the Black Lives Matters movement of 2020, I get emails from people saying I only put a black character in my novels, because of George Floyd, who apparently was a black man and was murdered? I don't know, I haven't had a TV since 1987 so I don't have access to watching the news. Judging from the info in the hate emails, he died rather recently, less than a year ago. ... and yet, I've not published a new novel since 2014. My family was murdered shortly after the release of BoomFuzzy and I've written anything since. I was in the middle of writing Summoner or Darkness when my family was murdered. I didn't finish because of the murders and I've not worked on anything new since. But, these hate emails, are making the claim, that the 138 novels I wrote between 1978 and 2014, I wrote them BECAUSE of a black man who was murdered in 2020, 6 years after my last novel was published?

Yeah. Do you see anything a little bit odd? Like the fact the creation of this fictional black character is nearing a 50th anniversary and the guy they are say I created him for, died less than a year ago?

It's called readers are stupid, can't be bothered to look at publication dates, see whatever the hell they WANT to see, no matter what we write. Those people, those recent emails, they had the Black Lives Matter movement so in their heads, that they couldn't even see that the publication date was 40 years ago and the Black Lives Matter organization didn't exist at the time the book was published. 

They were just white power fanatics who just ran around looking for any novels that had black main characters, so they could have an excuse to write outrage in emails, to authors, they thought were white, to tell those supposedly white authors to stop writing black characters just because of the BLM Riots. But... in their gung-ho to do so, they forgot to look at the publication dates, or find out what race the author was.

So you have people who went looking for white authors who wrote black characters since the BLM movement started, but they didn't look at the publication dates or find out what color the author was.

And than you have people who read the series for a long time before realizing the character was black, and telling me I should be ashamed of myself for being white and writing back people, because black people shouldn't be in novels and we whites have to look out for each other... but... I'm nt white. They forgot to find out what colour the author was.

Somehow not only did they get it into their heads that the character was white, but they also convinced themselves that I the author was white. There was nothing political about that character or the story or why I made him the race I did. I just wrote him the same race as me.  There was no political theme or motive behind it at all, but readers MADE it political in their own minds. They got offended and triggered, and had political ravings and rantings over it, because they couldn't fathom the fact that a non-white character could possibly exist in a novel any more that they could fathom that a non-white person could read or write.

That book with the N-word was published in 2014, and I started getting those hate emails in 2016 and still get them.

But here's the thing... those readers, THEY had an anti-black political agenda,  so they SAW a pro-black political agenda, where there was no agenda at all. 

I'm not white, I wouldn't know the first thing about writing white culture or white lifestyle, so why would I write white characters? I write what I know. I know what it is to be mixed blood and have a multi-culture family, so that's what I wrote. There's no pro-color agenda, I just wrote a character the same race as myself, because I know what it like to be that race.

Readers with race agendas and race politics saw race agendas and race politics in my books because that is what they WANTED to see.

Now let's look at something else... the bigger issue, also not political, but watch what readers did...

When I was a small child, my grandmother was friends with a young couple. She took me to visit them weekly. They owned a tiny little "mom&pop shop", sort of like a convenience store, but it didn't have food. It had odds and ends, tools, cards, trinkets, basically a little junk store for tourists (we live on a beach in a tourist resort town) and we shopped there. We shopped there a few times a week. My parents. They were so in love, the couple who owned this store. You could see that. Always smiling and laughing, hugging, kissing. I can't remember ever seeing one without the other. Than one day, one of them was murdered, and the one left behind was devastated. After that just sat at the back of the store despondent. Commit suicide in the store, a year later on the anniversary of the murder, I was there, saw it happen. 

I was 12 years old. 

It was the 1970s. 

What happened to them, stuck in my head, I still have nightmare about it to this day 50 years later. It's why I started writing. I published my first novel while I was still just 12 years old, just a few weeks later, and it was inspired by them. 

Today, 50 years, 138 novels, and 2,000 short stories later, I still write same series about that same couple. I was 14 years old when I started receiving death threats. I didn't know why. Hate mail, started pouring in. I was just a child, I couldn't understand half the words the letters were saying. Words I'd never heard before: fag, sodomy, gay. It was years, before I realized what those words meant. 

Angry adults were sending death threats to a child (me) over a political issue, that I'd never even heard of, over books I wrote about a happy couple very much in love, based off a very real couple, I knew in real life. 

It wasn't until the 1990s, nearly 20 years later, that found out what gay meant. 

I had no clue that the couple I was writing was gay. I had no concept of what gay meant at all.

I found out later what happened: They'd been being harassed quite a lot, their store, their house, their car vandalized, they'd both been beaten up several times. The one who was murdered, he'd been beaten to death, head bashed in with a baseball bat because he was gay. No other reason. He was man in love with a man.

I never noticed that. As a child, they were just another couple who lived near-by. I never noticed they were both men and that, there were no other couples in our town that were both men. Even after writing dozens of novels featuring a couple that was both men, it never occurred to me that that was odd or different or unusual. They were just 2 people in love. I did not see them as being different from any other couple in our town.

And to this day, I still get on average 700 death threats DAILY, from people outraged, that the main character of my novels are a gay couple.

I get on average 2,000 to 5,000 hate emails EACH WEEK from outraged self proclaimed "right-wingers" who call me things like "Woke" and "fag lover" and "one of those jackass gay rights activists" and make the claim that I only write a gay couple because being gay is the trendy fad of the past few years. Funny thing, if they took the time to look at the publication date of a lot of those novels and crossed referenced it with my age, they'd see most of them were published in the 1970s before I was even 14 years old. And had they actually read the novels, they'd also see that the word "gay" never appears, because I'd never even heard of it before the hate letters from readers arrived.

There is nothing political about what I write. It's 2 Elf wizards, traveling, having adventures, and living together. They are male. There are scenes of them hugging and kissing.  And readers make of that what they want too. The stories don't focus on the fact that they are a gay couple, in fact you could easily read it as them, just being 2 friends. The story never calls them gay. 

I've had readers ASK me if they were a gay couple or if they were just 2 good friends, because they weren't sure, because it never says. And yet at the same time, I get tens of thousands of anti-gay hate letters and hate emails and death threats every year, from people who just outright hate gay people and automatically see the 2 main characters as gay, even though, the series never says they are and other readers have not been sure.

Haters CLAIM my books are nothing but gay right politics, promoting gay agendas, and pushing gay culture onto innocent young minds. And yet, there are no gay rights politics in my novels, I'm not promoting gay agendas, and I'm not trying to push anything on anyone.

The fact of the matter is, THOSE READERS THEMSELVES, have an anti-gay agenda, so they SEE gay right politics, where there are none. 

THOSE READERS THEMSELVES, have an anti-gay agenda, so they SEE books as promoting gay agendas, when they are not.

THOSE READERS THEMSELVES, have an anti-gay agenda, so they SEE authors as pushing gay culture on others, even when that author is a 12 year old child who never heard the word gay before and didn't know what it meant.

The fact is, readers are going to see what they WANT to see, wither the author put it there or not.

Readers will MAKE things political, even when the author didn't.

Readers will look for themes and hidden messages, even when the author was a 12 year old child who just wrote for the fun of telling a fun adventure story of 2 Elf wizards battling dragons, and had no clue it was even possible to put messages in a novel.

It doesn't matter what an author writes, if the reader has an agenda, they will FORCE THEIR agenda into our books, no matter what your book is, because they, THEY are looking for pick a fight with anyone and everyone.

We authors have no need to put politics in our novels. Readers will find a myriad of politics hidden in our novels, on issues that we authors didn't even know were issues.

It's what readers do.

No one reads a book for fun or entertainment anymore. Every one just reads books with fine tooth combs looking for reasons to get upset.

Readers are going to see whatever it is they WANT to see, no matter what we write.

I don't write politics. I don't write themes. I don't write hidden messages. I have no agenda. But there are plenty of people who will tell you I do. I write 2 Elf wizards who are very much in love and travel together having adventures, that's it, that really is all it is, and everything else, all the politics and agendas - those aren't mine, those are the politics and agendas of readers who are trying to make my books fit issues THEY are fussing over, so they THINK they see things in my writing, that I never put there at all.

And the fact remains, that outraged gay haters, went to extremes, and on April 10, 2015, murdered my family, over something they THOUGHT I wrote in my books... and I have 728 pages of their witness testimony in court where they say exactly that... they murdered my 10 (ten) children, cut their heads off and nailed their heads to my door (the youngest was 4 and the oldest was 16), over something they THOUGHT I wrote, but that I never wrote at all.

There's the reality of politics for you. Readers think it's okay to murder an author's family, over political issues the author wasn't even writing about.

This isn't a political problem. It's problem of people being too damned stupid to understand what they read, and inserting their own agendas in to works of fiction.

I once had a reader who emailed me to say/ask:

"So, I'm reading Vampire Leprechaun of Fire Mountain. I'm about 100 pages into the book and nothing has happened yet. When does something happen?"

Uhm... it's a Quaraun novel. They are reading volume 5, they are 100 pages in and nothing has happened yet... gee... sooo... did you notice anything happening in volumes 1 through 4?

Let me repeat... they are waiting for something to happen: IN A QUARAUN NOVEL.

They explained that the characters were just walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles...

Can I repeat, that were reading a Quaraun novel, volume 5 of the series, and they waiting for something to happen.

uhm...yeah....that's what the story is about - them lost in a Fairy Forest, wandering aimlessly for miles.

That IS the story.

Quaraun and crew lost in a forest and walking in circles.

Oh wait, what were they reading again?

The Quaraun series.

And what is the Quaraun series about?

A homeless, elderly, suicidal Elf hiking across the planet, trying to find a reason to live, writing in the style of a travel blog.

The Quaraun series is 138 novels, about an old man, doing a bucket list hike around the world before he dies.

The title of their email was:

"So, I'm reading Vampire Leprechaun of Fire Mountain. I'm about 100 pages into the book and nothing has happened yet. When does something happen?"

Inside was a very long email.

This was one of the rare few emails I have ever received, that was not full of hate and raving and ranting.

This one was full of confusion and was an actual, genuine question, as opposed to a self righteous offended snowflake, which is what most emails I receive are.

This email, went on to explain, that the novel had been recommended to them as Erotica, and in fact, had been bought from the Erotica section of Amazon.Uhm... what?I went to Amazon and checked, and yep, sure enough it was in the Erotica department. I contacted Amazon, got the usual run around and finally reached and actual person. I explained that I had uploaded the novel into Fantasy and Literary Slice of Life categories, not Erotica, why was it in Erotica?She checked the records and said that Amazon had moved it to Erotica after it had received several hundred reports of being in the wrong category, with reporters stating that it was Erotica. I explained that the book not only contained no sex or nudity, it also, was about an elderly Elf who was lost alone in the forest, and spent the week sitting by a campfire talking to the ghosts of 5 people whom he had murdered decades earlier. He gets up in the morning and walks the entire day, and that night arrives back at the same campsite where the 5 ghosts are waiting to talk to him again.This happens 7 times. Each time it happens it takes 2 chapters to tell it. It is literally 14 chapters of him wandering around lost in the forest and always ending up back in the same spot that night, no matter which direction he traveled that day. I asked her, could you get someone to actually READ my novel, to see that it is not Erotica, because it right now has 120 negative 1 star reviews complaining that they bought it thinking it was Erotica, and are angry that it's not. And I didn't put it in Erotica to begin with.Two weeks later I get an email from Amazon, stating that they had sent copies of my book to their review department and yes ideas, this  most certainly NOT Erotica, not even close. The explained that they have an automated "wrong category" reporting system (this was in 2015, btw, I don't know if they still have that system today in 2021) and if enough users report it and suggest the same category to move it to, the system just automatically changed the category to where users had suggested, and no human checks to see if it should have been moved or not.

They further explained that in the case of this book, it turns out that one single, solitary person, had created 52 separate accounts, specifically to report this book as Erotica, and trigger the system to move it into the Erotica department. They stated that the troll and all of their accounts had been banned as well as banned their ISPN so they couldn't create more accounts.

They then explained that as the 120+ one star reviews had been a result of Amazon's negligence in moving the book to Erotica without having a human read the book first, they also removed all of those particular 1 star reviews from the book. It also turned out that all 52 of those accounts that had made the false claim of my book being Erotica belonged to Kendra Silvermander, yet again. This was not the first time this vicious, vindictive, mystery woman had created lots of fake accounts to attack, nor was it the last.

But, back to the reader whom had alerted me to this situation.

They explained that they had bought the book, thinking it was Erotica, and were puzzled as to why, at 100 pages into the story, there had been no indication of any sort of couple or relationship or sex or sensuality or anything even remotely close to anything one would expect to see in Erotica. The story was literally an old man wandering around lost in the forest, talking to ghosts that were haunting him. Where was the sex? At 100 pages in, there should have been at least 10 sex scenes by now, as standard formula for Erotica is no fewer than 3 sex scenes per chapter. 

Like nearly EVERY VOLUME of all 138 novels in the Quaraun series, The Vampire Leprechaun of Fire Mountain  contained no sex or nudity, and is about an elderly man searching for a reason to not commit suicide while hiking through the forest and talking to the ghosts of people he had murdered in his youth.

The Vampire Leprechaun of Fire Mountain is also one of the more extreme novels, in that it moves in a loop... it literally takes one scenes that is 3,000 words long, and repeats it over and over and over and over and over. It is an elderly Elf who was lost alone in the forest, and spent the week sitting by a campfire talking to the ghosts of 5 people whom he had murdered decades earlier. He gets up in the morning and walks the entire day, and that night arrives back at the same campsite where the 5 ghosts are waiting to talk to him again. This happens 7 times.

Each time it happens it takes 2 chapters to tell it. It is literally 14 chapters of him wandering around lost in the forest and always ending up back in the same spot that night, no matter which direction he traveled that day.

At the start, Quaraun meets a tiny old man, who gives Quaraun food. Each night Quaraun arrives at that same campsite and eats the man's food again. Each chapter is a copy paste of the previous chapter, with only a few sentences changed here and there. On the final day, Quaraun realizes the old man is a Leprechaun and refuses to eat his food. The next morning Quaraun wakes up and the old man and his campsite are gone, and Quaraun is finally able to walk out of the forest without returning back to the same campsite again, finally free of the Leprechauns spell. The End.


That's the entire story.

No sex.

No Erotica. 

But that book got moved to the Erotica department, because for reason this Kendra woman got it stuck in her head that my books were Erotica and she devoted close to 20 years of her life to trying to convince everyone online and offline that my books were Erotica, and to this day, I still don't know why she did it. All I know is, she wet extreme, she's the one who put a bomb in my house in 2006, under my desk at college in 2013, in my department at work in 2015 and again in 2016, and in the waiting room of my doctor's office in 2003 killing my doctor, 3 of his nurses, and 21 patients - if your local - you remember the bomb that killed my doctor at First Care Health Clinic on Saco Ave in Old Orchard Beach, Maine, a few feet from the Jameson Kindergarten School - she almost killed every child between the ages of 4 and 8 in Old Orchard Beach as well that day.

So when I say she went to major extremes trying to convince everyone my books were Erotica and that me, my family, and any one I had contact with needed to die because I wrote Erotica, I do mean went to extremes - she almost killed 750+ children, the day she bombed  my doctor's office in 2003 killing my doctor, 3 of his nurses, and 21 patients at First Care Health Clinic on Saco Ave in Old Orchard Beach, Maine, a few feet from the Jameson Kindergarten School, and she would go on to kill my children, cut their heads off and nail their heads to my door in 2015.

And I don't even know who this woman is. I just know the 21,000 emails she has sent me over the years, since 2004, are all signed with the line: "I'm Kendra SilverMander it's my time to shine!" 

Notes left at crime scenes are signed:  "I'm Kendra SilverMander it's my time to shine!" 

Ans when she arrived in person to attack me while I was eating as Panera in 2009, with golf clubs crippling me on November 14, 2013 at Southern Maine Community College, and in 2016 at Scarborough WalMart that time breaking my spine with a shopping cart, she was screaming in asing-song chant at the top of her lungs while she attacked:  "I'm Kendra SilverMander it's my time to shine! My turn to shine! My turn to shine! My turn to shine! My turn to shine! I'm Kendra SilverMander it's my time to shine! My turn to shine! My turn to shine! My turn to shine! My turn to shine! I'm Kendra SilverMander it's my time to shine! My turn to shine! My turn to shine! My turn to shine! My turn to shine! I'm Kendra SilverMander it's my time to shine! My turn to shine! My turn to shine! My turn to shine! My turn to shine!"

FBI Agent Andy Drewer out of the Portland, Maine FBI office is in charge of the case. If you have information about the case, know who this woman is, give it to him not me. He can be reached @ +1-(207)-774-9322 

So you can start to see, why I get a little bit triggered when someone refers to me as an Erotica author or says my books are Erotica. Because my first instinct is to assume you are someone who is friends with this Kendra woman, otherwise, WHY else would you think my books were Erotica?

"So, I'm reading Vampire Leprechaun of Fire Mountain. I'm about 100 pages into the book and nothing has happened yet. When does something happen?"

Uhm... it's a Quaraun. They are reading volume 5, they are 100 pages in and nothing has happened yet... gee... sooo... did you notice anything happening in volumes 1 through 4?

Let me repeat... they are waiting for something to happen: IN A QUARAUN NOVEL.

They explained that the characters were just walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles...


Walking for miles and talking about what he sees, while he walks, is the ONY THING there is in ALL of the Quaraun novels.

That's what the series is about.

It's an elderly man whom has lost EVERYTHING and EVERY ONE.

His family is dead.

His lover is dead.

His people are dead.

He's the last of his kind.

He's old.

He's sick.

He's homeless.

He's alone.

He has no one.

No friends.

No family.

Everything he owns, he's carrying with him in one bag.

He's depressed.

He's suicidal.

He wants to find a reason to live.

So he is wandering aimlessly on the open road, looking to find something, anything to inspire him to not kill himself.

He walks and he walks and he walks.

It's an old man walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking  for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles...

That IS what the Quaraun series is about.

It's an old man walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking  for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles...

That IS the plot.

It's an old man walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking  for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles...

That IS the story.

It's an old man walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking  for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles...

What else exactly were you expecting to see happen?

The Quaraun series is about a traveler, trekking the open road, and the encounters he meets along the way.

So we (me and this reader) are messaging back and forth about the issue, me wondering what they were expecting to have happen, them confused about what the book was. Pointing out that this volume is #5 of the series, and supposedly they had read the 4 previous volumes ... though I really don't think they did based on their "When does something happen?" question.

:P

LOL!

When does something happen!

ROTFLMAO! LOLOLOLOL!

What was the problem?


It turns out, in addition to having been told the series was Erotica, they THOUGHT the series was going to be an action packed adventure of D&D questing type monster battling, monarchy conquering, wizard dueling, swords clashing, dragon slaying, princess rescuing, gold hoarding type stuff.

They thought this because they had read an article stating that the main character (Quaraun) was one I had played in my local game group for years and the novels were based off the actual game sessions which I had kept notes of for a few decades.

They also mentioned that they had played DnD with a group that had gone on highly sexualized adventures, and that in their gameplay, downtime between adventures at taverns, meant lots of sex and prostitutes.

So, they expected the Quaraun series to be no-stop fighting, between non-stop sex, because when they though DnD, that's what they had done in their game group.

The problem?

They neglected to read the part of the article which stated the series was "slice of life literary fantasy" and told the story of what happened OUTSIDE OF THE GAME... the stuff NOT battles, and monsters and questing, but rather the journey, the traveling, the random stops at taverns and campsites.

They also neglected to pay attention to the fact that, the series is about a super villain, after he is too old to be a super villain any more.

Yes.

Quaraun is evil.

Quaraun is a big, bad, final boss Necromancer, whom was NEVER defeated by any adventuring party that crossed his path.

Quaraun, is the world's most powerful, and only undefeated evil wizard.

Quaraun is invincible, undefeatable, all powerful, and has killed millions.


But now he's old, nearing the end of his life, and looking back on what he's done with regret.

Because he is such and extremely over powered Necromancer, dead things come to life around him, without him even needing to cast and spells. It just happens.

And as he rewalks roads he had walked on in his youth, he's passing the places where he killed people, and when he does, their ghost rises up and starts following him.

He's haunted by the ghosts of people he's killed. But no one else can see them. He's the only one who can see the ghosts, so wen people see him arguing with the ghosts, they only see him and think he's insane and talking to himself.

The whole series, all 130+ volumes of it, every single novel, is the every day life of an elderly wandering vagabond wizard as he just travels the open road.

There are no sword fights, no monster battles, no wizard duels, or anything else remotely action packed in any novel of the series.

There is however, LOTS of traveling and sightseeing, to the point that it reads more like travel fiction.

And I'm constantly saying this. It's not like it's ever hidden or should be a surprise that nothing happens other than a tourist Elf is sightseeing while he hikes.

Quaraun is the main character, a wandering "wizard for hire" so, he's in every story.

In a few stories he's travelling alone.

In many stories he's travelling with 1 or the other or both, of 2 fellow travelling wizards. Usually BoomFuzzy and/or GhoulSpawn.

Some times they meet up with an "adventuring group", a band of hippies, another group of travellers, a migrating family, and will then have 4 or 5 or more characters traveling with him.

Sometimes he'll meet up with a merchant or a caravan or a wagon train or a family just off to visit relatives, and will have a large group of a dozen or more people travelling with him.

So you never know from one novel to the next who he's going to have as traveling companions... it's just whoever he meets on the road who is going the same direction as him.

It's a lot of dialogue. A LOT. Conversations between him and the strangers he meets as they talk about life, the universe, and everything, while they walk along.

That anyone could call the series Erotica is mind boggling on the extreme.

Let's talk of another thing that SHOULD tip you off that these books are NOT Erotica.

The Swamp of Death:

The Swamp of Death appears in many novels. It is a reoccurring "magic location" that can appear at will in any region of the world.

The Swamp of Death exists everywhere and no where at the same time.
It is the place where "lost souls" go after death.Though some characters describe it as being "Hell" and a place to punish the evil after they die, good people can go there just as equally as bad people.It is the temporary resting place of people who died violent deaths: murder victims, suicide victims, soldiers who died at war, homeless who starved to death alone and forgotten.Unlike Heaven and Hell which are places to reward good and punish evil, The Swamp of Death is a place where lost souls go to reflect on their life.Souls in Heaven live with Angels who serve them, while souls in Hell live with Demons who torture them.But Souls who go to The Swamp of Death become Ghosts and have the ability to haunt the living, mentally tormenting people who hurt them in life, or emotionally comforting loved ones whom are grieving.Souls in The Swamp of Death are dead people who can not move forward to either Heaven or Hell, because they have some sort of "unfinished business" that needs resolving before they can move on.In the novel Quaraun and The Vampire Into The Swamp of Death, the entire novel takes place in The Swamp of Death. In that story, Quaraun has taken several poisons and slit his wrists and dies briefly, before his friends revive him. The entire novel is a "near death experience" where Quaraun finally realizes that the people he's traveling with are all ghosts of people he's murdered in his life. It the story where he finally realizes that he murdered his best friend, which he realizes when he sees her in The Swamp of Death taking care of the 4 children he had murdered years before.

The Swamp of Death is a terrifying place. A vast peat bog, surrounded by acres of quicksand. It is always midnight and always shrouded in thick fog.Thousand of tombs and grave stones stick up out of the mud. Many of the Lost Souls try to escape the Swamp, only to be sucked down into the quicksand, and wake up the next day, back in the Mournful Lamb Inn, a tavern that sits in the center of the Swamp serving drinks to the dead.
And while this may sound like a place to visit, it is in fact a thing that travelers can encounter on any road, should they become near death.The Swamp is guarded by sentient pumpkins, who act as "an army of Grim Rippers" gathering dead souls and taking them to the Swamp.If it is your time to die, the pumpkins will start showing up along road sides, watching you, waiting for your death to happen.The Swamp and it's Pumpkin Guards appear in almost every Quaraun novel, though sometimes only very briefly, just seen out of the corner of the eye in a quick sentence or two.While the Swamp is supposed to only take the souls of murder victims, suicide victims, and people who died traumatic deaths, The Swamp is known to stalk lonely travelers, appearing suddenly along side the road. When the traveller moves to get a closer look at the mysterious Swamp, dozens of ghostly hands grab the travelers legs and pull them into the Swamp, drowning them in the quicksand, thus causing the unsuspecting traveller to befall a traumatic death and become yet another soul trapped in the Swamp.No one knows exactly what The Swamp of Death is, but, some suspect it to actually be a massively huge Mimic or possibly a gigantic Jelly capable of tricking people into thinking it is a swamp, when in fact it is a monster.

In any case The Swamp of Death is many thousands of years old and no one can remember a time when it did not exist and roam the Earth feeding on lost souls.The Pissed Off Pumpkin Patch:Common but rarely seen. Grinning, glowing Jack-o-Lantern pumpkins that tumble and roll across the ground, sometimes sprouting bodies and limbs made of vines and leaves, sometimes seen in the form of "living scarecrows", and other times robed in black.People often describe them as being The Grim Reaper, but no one knows for certain what exactly they are. Sometimes they appear as a long pumpkin sitting on a porch, other times they gather in huge hordes and sit in a field covering massive acres pretending to be a pumpkin patch. Where they are, The Swamp of Death follows, and presumably, they are part of the Swamp's body and not separate limbs. 

The Pissed Off Pumpkin Patch is known to stalk lone travellers, terrorizing them, and chasing them off cliffs or into quicksand.  The pumpkins are rarely seen by their victims, for the moment you turn to look at them, they instant freeze, and look like ordinary jack-o-lanterns, scarecrows, or pumpkin patches.The pumpkins appear in almost every Quaraun story, as they follow Quaraun wherever he goes and he is constantly telling people there are pumpkins chasing him, but almost no one believes him and thinks his tales of being chased into swamps by pumpkins are the raving delusions of a madman.Because Quaraun is a murderer. the ghosts of his murder victims are trapped him the Swamp of Death, and scream for vengeance, thus causing the pumpkins who guard the swamp to constantly chase Quaraun, trying to force him into the Swamp of Death and drown him.There are frequent scenes of pumpkin vines grabbing Quaraun's arms and legs and dragging him through the forest into the Swamp of Death.Quaraun, however is a Necromancer with power over the dead and continually escapes the attacks buy the pumpkins and the lost souls of his murder victims.Now I ask you, does any of this even remotely sound like Erotica to YOU?How do people call this series Erotica?

How did so many people become so convinced that this series was Erotica, that a mob of over 70 people arrived in my driveway on April 10, 2015, to violently, brutally murder my family, because they were outraged over my books being Erotica?

How?

How does something like this happen?



Remember folks: 


   *   YOU thinking about sex while I talk, DOES NOT mean that I was talking about sex.


   *   YOU fantasizing about sex while you read, DOES NOT mean that I wrote a sex scene.


   *   YOU sexualizing things and jerking off to them, is NOT me writing titillation for you.


    *   YOU thinking about sex while reading a book I wrote, does NOT mean the book is Erotica, it just means that YOU are a fucking pervert capable of sexualizing anything and everything.


AND:


    *   YOU THINKING ABOUT SEX WHILE YOU READ A BOOK THAT I WROTE IS NOT AN EXCUSE YOU CAN USE TO GET AWAY WITH MURDERING MY FAMILY!


I've ignored the sex crazed trolls calling my books Erotica for years...


...but now my family is dead. Murdered by one of those very trolls.


One of those trolls put a bomb in my house.


One of those trolls cut my children's heads off and nailed them to my door.


While other trolls now take those real world events and sex memes about them.


So let's talk about this.


Let's talk about how slanderous jackasses calling my books Erotica, when they were not Erotica, resulted in my entire family being murdered April 10, 2015.

People see what they WANT to see.

And apparently, people can make ANYTHING become Erotica in THEIR minds.

It reminds me of a question I got once from a newbie writer, writing their first novel, and they got hung up on an issue. 

Cross reference with a scene in the Quaraun series, that reoccurs in many forms.

In the Quaraun series is what readers refer to as a "squik horror" scene, that shows up again and again. A bowl of rice, full of maggots. A jar of wriggling worms. Slimy. Slithering. squishy. And often stepped on with bare feet: maggots and earthworms and grubs make regular appearances, and while MOST readers find these scenes just as disturbing as I do, a few readers have said these scenes were Erotica, especially when Quaraun steps bare foot into these disgusting wormy, maggoty messes.

The reason these scene reappear is because it's a thing that happened to me in real life, in 1991, days before Hurricane Bob hit Old Orchard Beach, Maine. A massive heatwave that broke Maine's heat records and is still unbroken today, hit Maine days before the hurricane arrived and...

Well... let's skip that for a minute and talk about the guy trying to write a bare foot girl. We'll swing back around to Hurricane Bob, Maine heat waves, and how Quaraun came to step in piles of maggots as a reoccurring scene in many Quaraun novels, after we talk about the guy looking to write a bare foot girl in his novel:

Their main character was bare foot, an indigenous, native girl, in an Amazon Rainforest tribe. They were writing a Tarzan Meets Jane, story in reverse, where it was modern man meets jungle girl. They wanted to write the story as an adventure story, not as a Romance story, complaining that Tarzan stories were always focused on sex and romance and relationships and never on the adventures in the jungle (clearly they had never read the ACTUAL Tarzan novels from the 1920s)

Well, they ran into a problem, when they reached finishing chapter 1, and realized they had no ability to write the girl's bare feet without sexualizing her bare feet.

I found this confusing, because, well, WHY would he sexualize someone's feet?

I've heard people mention foot fetish before and I had asked the same question then: Why would you sexualize someone's feet?

The concept of sexualizing something that is never involved in the act of sex, makes no sense to me at all. I simply can not understand it. 

But apparently there are people who sexualize things that not related to sex. And I don't understand why someone would do that. It just seems so bizarre.

In any case, this person was very upset. Deeply upset, because according to them, no matter what they wrote about her feet, it always was sexual. It bothered him a lot and he talked about it for days in our writing group. Every day adding more info about how he wanted to write this character as a carefree, barefoot, native, and all he could do was write page after page after page about her enjoying the feel of sand between her toes. He was so tripped up by being unable to stop writing endless sexualizations about her feet that he couldn't even finish the very first chapter of his novel and move on to the story.

So, the 48 members of the writing group (myself included) gathered around to brainstorm the situation and try to figure out how to write bare feet without sexualization. We all found it rather easy. In fact none of us saw what the issue was. None of us had reason to focus on our characters' feet. Each of use had few to no scenes mentioning feet in our novels. We were all actually quite shocked to realize how very rarely any of us mentioned feet at all in our novels. And none of us were able to think of a single instance of having written feet as sexy or connected to sex in any way.

Do you know what we found out? After 2 straight days of steady, none stop brain storming, we realized, this guy had a problem. He was obsessed with feet. Big time. 

Every single person in the writing group, had a solutions. 48 different solutions were presented. All of them very good and any one of them would have worked. 

Answers included one person whom had lived in Samoa for a few years and told about how entire cultures there did not wear shoes. Another was part of a hiking group and detailed wat it was like to hike through forests without shoes on, because they had done it and had gotten hurt doing it. Many compared the dangers of being bare foot out doors. 

Every one in the group agreed there was nothing sexy or romantic about bare feet.

Not one of them could understand why this guy was so upset, so paranoid that readers were going to sexualize her feet.

And he wouldn't listen to anything any one said. He couldn't stop saying over and over and over that he wanted to avoid fan service and author appeal and he couldn't stop bringing up rule 34, even though, NO ONE has implied writing bare feet is a sex thing.

The initial question had not mentioned sex or fetishes, but by the second day he was blubbering none stop about sex, even though no one had mentioned sex. He's the one who brought up sex in response to anything and everything every one said.

The original question said this:

>>>Does it make sense for a fictional character to go barefoot. I’m thinking of writing a tropical novel, but I’m not sure if the protagonist should be barefoot or not. Is it okay to write a character without footwear? Is there a way to make it interesting or cool?

>>>The personality is young, energetic, perky, close to nature and tactile. The character was raised in a lower tech tropical society and has to survive off raw resources most of the time. I was thinking of giving it a feel like McGuivor or the primitive tech videos on YouTube. The character also has an excellent sense of touch, which comes from the characters secret heritage. I was thinking of using it as a tool to make the story more inversive, but I don’t want it to be weird.

>>>But if I make the character barefoot, how do I make the character cool interesting and likable instead of weird?


Sounded innocent enough.

But than one of the other writers in our group replied with this:


>>>Yeah if they have a reason. I mean, their reason could literally be "shoes are uncomfortable" to "my magic requires me to be in contact with the earth."

>>>Or they're just really poor.

>>>Many indigenous people in tropical environments don't wear footwear. Someone will correct me if I'm wrong.

>>>You can make your character whatever you want. It's totally up to you. There is no problem with making a main character barefoot. As far as making it interesting or cool it really depends on a bunch of factors. Are they barefoot because of societal reasons? Religious reason? Enjoys the feel? Shoes are only available to certain people. Maybe the protagonist lost their favorite pair of shoes that had some sentimental factor and that's why they are barefoot.

>>>In the end though I'm not sure why it matters that the character is barefoot, also why you would want to bring so much attention to a small quirk for a character.


And this triggered him SO BAD.

Specifically, THIS: triggered him:


>>>In the end though I'm not sure why it matters that the character is barefoot, also why you would want to bring so much attention to a small quirk for a character.

From that point on he went on a full blown Teddy Bear Meltdown. Don't know what a Teddy Bear Meltdown is? Well then, HERE witness the awe that is the original Teddy Meltdown itself. In any case, he went flipping nuts, at the suggestion that being barefoot was a small quirk or that he didn't need to focus on it.

He raved and rant for several hours while the rest of us just sat in awe at the extreme obsession this guy had with the bare feet of his main character.

Now, this not uncommon. Every author has some sort of fetish that they end up writing into everything they write, wither they realize it or not. Like George Lucas and his need to cut off the hand of a main character in every single Star Wars movie. Until fans pointed out he had done it, he claims he had no noticed he had done it.

Every writer has some fetish for something and it shows up in their work, intentionally or unintentionally. And when writers realize it, usually after readers point it out, usually their response is: "Huh, didn't realize I was doing that. Oh well." And they move one and keep on writing, and often start focusing more on the fetish. They accept the fact that yeah, they like that thing, and write about it. They embrace it. They write about it more. 

There's nothing wrong with having a fetish, as long as it's not hurting any one.

Now this guy, he had discovered he had a fetish for his character's bare feet and couldn't stop writing about her bare feet and felt ashamed of it and, asked: 

>>>Does it make sense for a fictional character to go barefoot. I’m thinking of writing a tropical novel, but I’m not sure if the protagonist should be barefoot or not. Is it okay to write a character without footwear? Is there a way to make it interesting or cool?

>>>The personality is young, energetic, perky, close to nature and tactile. The character was raised in a lower tech tropical society and has to survive off raw resources most of the time. I was thinking of giving it a feel like McGuivor or the primitive tech videos on YouTube. The character also has an excellent sense of touch, which comes from the characters secret heritage. I was thinking of using it as a tool to make the story more inversive, but I don’t want it to be weird.

>>>But if I make the character barefoot, how do I make the character cool interesting and likable instead of weird?


But than when someone said this:


>>>In the end though I'm not sure why it matters that the character is barefoot, also why you would want to bring so much attention to a small quirk for a character.


He had a full blown total meltdown, raving and ranting that he couldn't let perverts ruin his character, citing rule 34, and saying he refused to write fan service for foot fetishes no matter how much he was writing to author appeal. And he posted every bit of it online, and just under 2million people read it and it went viral, and so now a lot of people are jumping on him because, he had not asked how to not sexualize bare feet, but now he was having a rant about how he was trying t avoid sexualizing bare feet, and eventually he got to the point of saying that ALL writers are perverts who sexualize bare feet and that NO author has EVER written bare feet without the goal of trying to arouse the reader.

Yie!

He had 48 professionally published, fairly big name authors giving him real world situation answers and he was replying to everyone by saying:


* "Yeah, I know, but rule 34!"


* "Yeah, I know for I want to avoid fan service!"


* "Yeah, I know, but how do I avoid author appeal?"


* "Yeah, I know, but perverts like bare feet."


No one - NO ONE - was sexualizing bare feet here BUT HIM!

My first reaction to his question is wonder about some of the phraseology he used.

Like:

Why is being barefoot "weird" in his mind? (He had said being bare foot was weird.)

On the other hand:

Why is being barefoot "cool" in his mind? (He had said being bare foot was a cool thing to do and he had thought making her bare foot would make her character more interesting.)

I'll point out too that I live in Maine where we have snow on the ground 7 months of the year and our weekly blizzards average 3 feet of snow per storm.

I was 31 years old the first time I had a pair of shoes.

I was 42 years old the first time I had a pair of boots.

As such, I find it weird that he would find being barefoot weird.

I also find it weird that he would find being barefoot as being cool.

His question came off as someone whom has never encountered a barefoot person before and is simply sexually aroused by the idea of seeing bare feet for the first time.

The others were telling him about various cultures that don't wear shows, even providing examples of places they visited themselves. And HOW did HE answer every comment?

By talking about fetishes, fan service, rule 34, and 50 Shades of Gray. NO ONE BUT HE was talking about those things. No one else even mentioned those things. 

There were 48 people here telling him about real world situations where real world people don't wear shoes, and he was just being so bullheaded, with his sex crazed head shoved so far up his own ass, that all he could do was answer with "but sex, but sex, but sex, but sex, but sex..." dude, no one's talking about sex but YOU.

HE and ONLY HE and NO ONE ELSE, was sexualizing bare feet.

HE and ONLY HE and NO ONE ELSE, was talking about bare feet as a fetish.

HE and ONLY HE and NO ONE ELSE, was comparing bare feet to Rule 34.

HE and ONLY HE and NO ONE ELSE, was putting bare feet into the classification of 50 Shades of Grey.

Dude, these people are pro-authors, not fanfic writers posting on porn sites. None of them knew what Rule 34 even meant. They are all asking him what it means and why he keep saying it. And he was so lost in his own bare foot sex fantasies that he couldn't even be bothered to answer them and tell them what rule 34 even means.  I had to look it up to find out what he were taking about. I didn't know what it was either.

Also, Google can't seem to find a definition for the terms "fan service" or "author appeal". I had to do some heavy duty searching before I could find other forum posts referencing the terms as well.

Near as I can tell, both the term "rule 34" and "fan service" and "author appeal" are terms found only in Tumblr fanfiction circles, which would explain why I never heard of them before as I don't read or write fanfiction.

And apparently the terms refer to authors writing sex fanfiction of copyrighted characters. Which means neither fan service or author appeal apply in his situation, seeing how he was creating his own characters.

But he couldn't stop saying he wanted to avoid fan service and author appeal (he said each 54 times - I counted) and he couldn't stop bringing up rule 34, even though, NO ONE had implied writing bare feet is a sex thing.

People are giving you real world situation answers and he are replying to everyone by saying:


* "Yeah, I know, but rule 34!"

* "Yeah, I know for I want to avoid fan service!"

* "Yeah, I know, but how do I avoid author appeal?"


But NO ONE is sexualizing bare feet here BUT HE!

Uhm.

This issue here?

HE saw bare feet as a sex object, so he was jumping to the false conclusion that EVERYONE saw bare feet as a sex thing, and he was getting crazy jealous, possessive of his character, because he didn't want other male readers lusting after her the way he was while he was writing her. 

And he by day 2, was attacking the people whom had answered him, because he'd worked himself into a sex crazed frenzy, thinking everyone was having perverted thoughts over his character, and yet, none of us even knew his character, because he had yet to even finish writing chapter 1 of his novel.

Bare feet are a natural part of life. To avoid fan service by writing the bare feet, you write the feet no differently that you write anything else. Bare feet only become fan service when you single them out and focus on talking about bare feet for no reason at all. If it doesn't move the plot forward, than there is no reason to bring up her bare feet at all.

If you want the bare feet to be part of her carefree character, than when you introduce her on page 1 of the story, simply describe her:

"She had dark skin and dark hair, and though her indigenous Amazon rainforest tribe had long ago embraced modern technology, she was a carefree spirit who loved to run barefoot in the sand, feel the wind through her long loose hair, feel the warmth of her sun beating down on her face. She was at one with nature. The spirits of the plants and animals called to her and she listened. This was her story..."

In one simple sentence I have told my readers, who this girl is, including that she goes barefoot, without sexualizing it. And now I write her story, without ever mentioning her bare feet, ever again.

If you wanted to remind the reader, you could add a scene like:

"As he was talking to her, he chanced to look down at the ground. He stopped talking He pointed to her bare feet.

"You're not wearing shoes," he said.

"Oh, no, I never wear shoes. I stopped wearing shoes when I was 10. Drove my mom crazy, but she she eventually gave up buying me shoes." She laughed cheerily, amused by his shock."

"You never wear shoes?"

"Nope. Never."

"But don't it hurt your feet?"

"No. Look." She held her foot up. "The skin on the bottom is tougher and thinker than the souls of your shoes. A nail won't even puncture. That's what comes of 30 years being barefoot. Now look at your poor feet. Soft and wimpy. A nail goes through your shoe, you'll be in the hospital."

"Wow, the bottoms of your feet are hideous!"

"I know right! People who have sex fantasies about bare foot women, ought to research what happens when you go bare foot outside for 2 or 3 years, let alone 30 years like I've done."


There. Now in the 2nd chapter I've reminded readers of her bare feet AND showed them the REALITY of what happens to REAL bare feet after a few years. AND called them out for sexualizing bare feet.

That's how easy it is.

Two scenes, under 100 words total. Point out she has bare feet without sexualizing it.

Think about it.

That's all you need to do.

You don't need to write 10 pages describing her feet every time she walks in the room.

Twice in the entire novel, is all you need.

Two scenes, under 100 words total. Point out she has bare feet without sexualizing it.

It really is that simple.

HE was the one sexualizing her feet, because HE was the one who wants to focus on her feet, and write page after page of detail about how her feet make her feel.

When you write a character, you write every part of them equally. With equal attention, giving only as much detail as is needed for the story. He had admitted there was no plot point for her being bare foot as the rest of her tribe wore shoes. He also admitted that making her barefoot had been done ONLY because he wanted to set her apart as different and unique from the rest of her tribe. And he admitted on 22 occasions that he though "being bare foot is cool", thus why being bare foot was what he had decided was the best way to show she was different.

Well, okay. Then just write that into the novel, what is the big deal?

The ONLY reason he worried others would fetishes her bare feet is because that is what he was doing himself.

Well, what is the big deal?

He likes bare feet. So what? He found himself writing too many scenes focusing on her bare feet. Again, so what?

If you are an author and you like bare feet, well, than go ahead and focus on writing scenes about your character's bare feet. What's wrong with that?

Readers who also like bare feet are going to love it.

People who don't like bare feet will pass it by.

What is the problem here?

The problem here is he was over reacting. He was making a big issue out of something that in the grand scheme of life, didn't matter.

He was jealous of future readers, lusting after a character, in a book, he hadn't yet even written, and he was so upset thinking about future readers looking at her feet the way he did, that he couldn't even write his book!

You know what, I went barefoot for 31 years, didn't own a pair of shoes that entire time and I never once went around thinking about the sensations of my toes in the sand.

Sorry, but barefoot people don't do that.

Only people who sexualize bare feet, think bare foot people do that.

In fact there is only ONE time that I remember of that I noticed the sensations my feet where feeling.

I lived on a horse farm, and during a heat wave, it only takes a couple of hours for a fresh pile of poop to become full of maggots.

Well, now take the poop and make it horse poop, on a horse farm, in the stables, that had no air conditioning because we also did not have electricity, and oh yeah, we didn't have running water either so, no way to wash - no sinks, showers, or toilets. 

When I say I grew up in 3rd word living conditions, I'm not joking. I grew up in 3rd world living conditions. I know what it is to go weeks between a meal. And can make a sandwich last for 2 weeks.

So the topic of being barefoot is one I know well.

But this particular day, the heat had reached 121F, not normal for our region, and the horse poop was full of maggots, because flies go from fresh laid egg to giant maggots in under 2 hours.

I was barefoot and I was shoveling horse poop, and walking around barefoot, and there thousands of maggots climbing up my feet, between my toes, up my legs, biting my feet, biting my toes, biting my legs, borrowing under my flesh... that night was spent with a sewing needle, puncturing my skin and running a thread through maggots to pull them back out from under my skin ... it was horrible, and to this day, I still have night mare about it, and now have a raging phobia of maggots that I did not have before that day. 

That's the only time I can remember any distinctive sensation while being bare foot for the first 31 years of my life.

Needless to say, I have no ability to grasp the concept of sexualizing feet.

Hurricane Bob, Maine heat waves, and how Quaraun came to step in piles of maggots as a reoccurring scene in many Quaraun novels, was directly a result of an actual event which happened to me in 1991.

Like I said, Maine's a lot more "out back" than people realize. And Maine in the 1970s, was way more "out back" than it is today in 2021.

Just because Maine is part of America, people forget, how big America is and how varied it's regions are. Even in America, other Americans assume 3rd world countries are ONLY Africa and India. They forget, Maine has 3rd world regions that even now in 2021, see dozens of children dying of starvation daily, and tens of thousands of people without electricity or plumbing or shoes.

I grew up in 3rd world conditions.

I was 31 years old before I had shoes.

I wasn't bare foot by will. 

I suffered severe frost bite several times while shoveling the snow in our 175 foot long driveway, without any shoes on.

I've had my bare feet stepped on my horses. Hurts like hell.

I've suffered many broken toes and foot injuries because I had no shoes.

And when I started wearing shoes, the callous leather layer of shin on the souls of my feet were so think, that it took several weeks of soaking my feet in hot water, than using pruning shears to cut off the inch think layer of hard skin, before I could even fit my feet into a shoe.

That's the reality of 31 years on bare feet.

But he was too busy focusing on sex, to think about the realities of living your life bare foot. And THAT is why he was having trouble writing his bare foot girl.

All he had to do was STOP thinking about how much he wanted to fuck her feet and START thinking about what life is like to live with no shoes.

And this is the same situation for readers who see the Quaraun series as Erotica.

They have some bizarre none sex related thing that they want to fuck, and they see that thing as Erotica no matter where they find it, but HE thinking a non-sexual item is sexual, does NOT make that item sexual to everyone else.

Are there things I fetishize that show up in the Quaraun novels with more emphasis than is needed?

Yes there are.

Does that make the Quaraun books Erotica?

No it does not.

It just means, there ARE things about the characters that I like, quite a lot, and I DO put more emphasis on describing those things.

Clearly I have a strong sexual attraction to not only my main character, but also to both of his lovers and I'm not ashamed to write about them in ways that makes it pretty obvious I'm attracted to them.

Does that make my books Erotica? No. Erotica is a very specific genre with very specific formula and guidelines and the Quaraun series doesn't even come close to it.

Does it make some scenes in the novels erotic? Well, maybe. If the things in those scenes are things you get aroused by, than, yeah, maybe you could find some stuff in the Quaraun series erotic.

Does a novel having erotic scenes, make the novel Erotica? No. And if you didn't know that, than clearly you don't know what the Erotica genre is.

I accepted the fact decades ago, that I am sexually attracted to my main characters and yeah, I do write about them, like I was a teenaged screaming fangirl writing fanfiction. But, so what? I'm not trying to win a Nobel Prize writing this series. It IS "junk writing" written simply because it's fun to write. It's riddled with bad grammar and bad spelling and tropes and I have no intention of trying to edit it into something "good". It was never meant to be something "good". It was only ever meant to be something FUN.

I never wrote it intending to publish it, the early volumes, I didn't publish those: Mrs Bureau did. Mrs. Bureau was a teacher at Old Orchard Beach, Jameson School, back in the 1970s and 1980s, She was trying to get my parents to send me to school. She used to come by the house to drop off text books so I could study on my own, because my parents wouldn't let me go to school.

I don't know what happened to her. I never her first name. She was probably in her 20s. Had long blond hair. One day, she read what I was writing, said "This is really good". I was 5 years old, when Friends Are Forever was published. She sent it in to some magazine. They published it. Their readers wanted more. Mrs. Bureau was the one who published the first few dozen. I didn't know the first thing about publishing. How could I? I was 5 years old!

I don't know what happened. Just when I was 8 years old, my uncle Bruce showed up, locked my a cage, and I never saw Mrs. Bureau again. The Cyr Clan arrived that same summer and the 4 - 5 - 8 shoot out happened.

Grammy Eva, gave me a typewriter and paper, and I sat a racoon trap, typing, there wasn't anything else to do. The cages wasn't even big enough for me to sit up straight. I got let out once a week to go to the store with Grammy Eva, and my uncles took my to the Cape Elizabeth Church on Sundays to show me off to the high priests who paid my uncles to stop by dropping the week to rape me. And that was my life until the BI raid rescued me 27 years later when I was 31 years old.

So I became very in love with the characters I wrote about, because they were the only people I had to talk to.

The racoon cage was in a woodshed behind the house. There were slats about 2 inches wide between the boards. So I was always wet in the rain and freezing in the snow. They gave me one salt herring to eat once every 12 days. 

Grammy gave me paper and ink ribbons so I could type. She published everything.

Everything published BEFORE the FBI raid in 1996, if it made money, I don't know, I never saw any of the money if it did.

And I wasn't even aware I had millions of fans. That was a shock wen I learned it because I had no idea any one knew my characters. 

That's WHY there is so much written. So many novels. So many short stories. And it's also why the stories are like they are: a character constant begging for freedom from a cage, and when he is outside of the cage, just walking and walking and walking, endlessly forever, because he's free, he's not in a cage any more, he can stand up, and sit down at will, and he can walk.

Do you have any idea what that is like?

How much joy there is, in being able to walk?

Walking IS taken to extreme fetish levels in the Quaraun series because at the time I wrote it, I was in a cage, huddled over my knees, without enough room to even stand up.

That's also why Quaraun is always outdoors, never in a house. I wouldn't even begin t know what it must be live to live in doors, in a house.

It's why Quaraun sleeps on hay and furs outside. I don't know what it would feel like to sleep in doors or on a bed, I don't know how to write something like that.

And that's also why I write Quaraun, raped, beaten, abused, and raped again, and never experiencing good or happy se, because I don't know what good or happy sex feels like. 

I had been rape more than 500 times when I was 12 years old. The last time I had sex was when I was 17,more then 40 years ago. There has NEVER been a time when I have EVER had sex willingly. Every instance was ALWAYS rape, and ALWAYS Mormon High Priest from the Cape Elizabeth, Saco, and Sanford Wards of the Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints.

I don't know how to write happy, joyful, pleasurable sex, because I've never experienced it.

Technically most people would classify me as a virgin, because most people don't count rape as real sex.

And when you know THAT, than you start to see, why it is so utterly stupid that people could even think, my books were Erotica.

I write what I know and can't write sex because I know nothing about sex at all.

That don't mean I don't write fetish stuff in the books. But having fetish stuff in the books, doesn't make them Erotica, and if you read Erotica, you'd know the difference immediately.

Don't be afraid to fetishize things in your novel. Every author does. Every author has something they emphasis to the point of a fetish, wither they realize it or not.

Unlike the author who could not accept that he enjoyed bare feet and really just wanted to write about bare feet, I can accept that big men terrify me, because the shortest of my abusive uncles was 6'4" and the tallest 7'3", so I like little men, like Quaraun who's 5'6" and BoomFuzzy who is 5'3". And the priest who paid my uncles to rape me, they were always young men in their 30s to 50s, clean shaven, crew cuts, wearing Mormon missionary style suits, shaved hair so their clean cut big penises are on display... so what do I write extreme fetishes about?

Anyone who has ever read one of my novels will be quick to tell you what my fetishes are:


* Elves.. never Humans

* Wizards... evil men of the Occult, never religious priests

* Men who wear robes and gowns and caftans and kimono and hakama and prom dresses...but never suits, never pants, and never shirts and ties

* Elderly men, also much older than the men who raped me

* Testicles... men hate those for some reason, focus 100% on their penises, to the point I find penises revolting

* Scrotum rings

* Foreskins to keep penises neatly tucked in out of view where they belong

* Eunuch - Quaraun is castrated, so he is safe, he can't rape anyone

* Men with long bum length hair

* Dreadlocks

* Brushing hair... I was in my 30s before I ever owned a brush... I have hundreds of them now... I had wanted a brush so bad my whole life, I wanted to know what brushed hair felt like... my dreadlocks were 42" long when I cut them off so that I could brush my hair for the first time, in 2017

* Hair being brushed

* Hair being stroked

* Hair being petted

You're starting to see a trend right?


Yeah...


If you've never read the Quaraun novels, you probably will get a but of a shock, when you find out what the most prevalent, reoccurring, fetish found in the Quaraun series is... but anyone who's ever read any volume of the Quaraun series knows, that... I like hairy balls.

Yeah.

There it is.

I find it absolutely utterly revolting when a man shaves off his pubic hair, worse when he shaves his balls.

Quaraun's balls are on display in EVERY Quaraun novel.

BoomFuzzy's balls are on display in EVERY Quaraun novel in which he appears which is almost all of them.

But nothing get's bigger descriptions than GhoulSpawn's balls, when they are on display in EVERY Quaraun novel, that he appears in.

GhoulSpawn if you don't know, from the waist down, he's a Cotswold Sheep.

Do you know what I made Lord Sesshomaru's Mokomoko out of for the CosPlay of him? 7 bales of Cotswold sheep's wool. The Mokomoko is 14 feet long, also I sleep with it, I have since I made it in 2007.

The fact remains, it's no secret that I have a fetish for shaggy balls, dreadlocks, soft fur, and long hair, and I don't make a secret of it in my writing. And I've made a secret of WHY that is. I write men who are the EXACT OPPOSITE of the Mormon High Priests who endlessly raped me from the time I was 4 years old to 17 years old. Yes, I write those scenes full fan service, because, these men, though they are fictional, are the ONLY men I've ever felt safe with. And my writing those scenes as I do, it's part of WHY the people who love the Quaraun series, love it so much.

I've said it before and I'll say it again:

You people need to get off your high horses - I write the Quaraun series for you, I write it for me. There are no hidden message, no agendas, no themes, no meanings, no pushing ideals on anyone. Nothing. In fact, if Mrs Bureau hadn't published those original volumes back in the 1970s when I was 5 years old, you wouldn't even know the Quaraun series existed, because I NEVER would have published it on my own.

Mrs Bureau, she helped my uncles. You see, the more priests they could get to rape me, the more scenes I wrote of men raping other children the same age as me and, she profited off of that.

Those 1970s porn magazine rape stories of 8 year old girls writing diaries about being raped, those weren't fiction and I was 8 years old when I wrote those entries IN MY DIARY.

If you can find out who Mrs Bureau is, she escaped prison time when my uncles and the Mormon priests went to prison in the 1990s, because the Jameson school, said their records department burned down a few years prior so they no longer had info on who she was. She's be around 85 to 90 today in 2021 if she is still alive. 

My uncles and their friends ran a child sex slave ring. And they let 5 year old, 8 year old, 10 year old me write what they did, because they published it as fiction. I never understood why they took my diaries, by it was only after the FBI raid that I found out they'd been publishing my diary entries as child porn fiction in child porn magazine for nigh on 30 years an I never knew.

They sold it as something they called "lolicon".

THERE"S your Erotica for you.

Those were NOT me writing Erotica. That was me, daily writing a diary about the sex abuse and torture I lived through. Those were not me as an adult making up sex stories about children... I WAS the 5 year old child in those stories. I WAS the 8 year old. I WAS the the 12 year old. Those were NOT fiction. And Mrs Bureau and my uncles had no right to publish them at all, let alone publish them in child porn magazines.

Mr Bureau supported the human trafficking my uncles did, because she was making money off of it.

People who ask for my old "lolicon" from the 1970s to be republished... those were pages from my diary, and sick fucks like that Jameson School Kindergarten teacher, KNEW they SHOULD have taken that diary to the police and saved that child from hell, and instead, they took evidence from a crime scene and made money off of it.

That's how my early stuff got published and that's why it's so different than what I write today.

Any sane, kind, caring, compassionate adult would have taken that diary to the police.

I was only 5 years old when she did that, and she could have saved me from 3 decades of rape and torture, had she gone to the police like she should have done instead of publishing it.

Think of how much would be different if that one Kindergarten teacher had taken that diary to the police.

I wouldn't have spent 27 years locked in a cage, starving, freezing, broken bones. Other children, those 31 children whose sawed up bones were found on June 19, 2016, in GooseFare Brook Ravine in the Reclaim Blueberry Plains, would not have died. They'd still be alive today.



How did so many people become so convinced that this series was Erotica, that a mob of over 70 people arrived in my driveway on April 10, 2015, to violently, brutally murder my family, because they were outraged over my books being Erotica?

How?

How does something like this happen?



Remember folks: 


   *   YOU thinking about sex while I talk, DOES NOT mean that I was talking about sex.


   *   YOU fantasizing about sex while you read, DOES NOT mean that I wrote a sex scene.


   *   YOU sexualizing things and jerking off to them, is NOT me writing titillation for you.


    *   YOU thinking about sex while reading a book I wrote, does NOT mean the book is Erotica, it just means that YOU are a fucking pervert capable of sexualizing anything and everything.


AND:


    *   YOU THINKING ABOUT SEX WHILE YOU READ A BOOK THAT I WROTE IS NOT AN EXCUSE YOU CAN USE TO GET AWAY WITH MURDERING MY FAMILY!


I've ignored the sex crazed trolls calling my books Erotica for years...


...but now my family is dead. Murdered by one of those very trolls.


One of those trolls put a bomb in my house.


One of those trolls cut my children's heads off and nailed them to my door.


While other trolls now take those real world events and sex memes about them.


So let's talk about this.


Let's talk about how slanderous jackasses calling my books Erotica, when they were not Erotica, resulted in my entire family being murdered April 10, 2015.


I think part of the problem with people calling me an Erotica author, when I've never even written a sex scene and I find scenes glorifying nude bodies to be revolting, largely because I find the human body to be utterly disgusting... stems from the fact that I write Yaoi and people seem to not know what the word Yaoi means.

Just because sex crazed teens write sex crazed fan fiction and post it on Tumbler with the tag "yaoi" underneath, doesn't mean it's ACTUALLY Yaoi. In fact, if it's fanfiction, chances are high it contains no Yaoi in it at all.

Yaoi is a Japanese word, which when translated to English means:

"Boy Love Written By Female Authors For Female Readers"

It means Gay Couples written by a female author.

Yaoi is NOT Erotica. Not even close. Usually, professionally published Yaoi is Romance. It's ONLY it stupid Yaoi Slash (fanfiction) that you see sex scenes or Erotica. If you've only read Yaoi Slash aka Yaoi fanfiction, than you've NEVER read the Yaoi genre, which is the LARGEST genre published in Japan, and 99.99% of the time is 100% sex-free.

I'm sorry, but horny 10 year old writing gay sex on FanFiction dot net is NOT the Yaoi genre and you're an idiot if you think it is.

Usually Yaoi is Sweet Romance aka sexless Romance like what Barbra Cartland wrote.

And while ALL Sweet Romance is sexless, MOST Romance is 100% sex free. 

It's very rare for a Romance novel to contain a sex scene.

And before the Fabio books of the 1990s, you never even saw so much as a hug, let alone a kiss, and sex wasn't even hinted at, let alone implied.

The Fabio books introduced couples how risked scandal by hugging in public and once in a while a couple got really daring and held hands. Kissing, still out of the question and sex did not exist outside of marriage and was not on the page.

In fact, the first Romance novel to contain an on-page sex scene, was written in 2013. Yes. 50 Shades of Grey.

Before 2013, sex was not allowed in the Romance genre and no publisher would touch a sex scene.

Sex scenes existed in other genres, as far back as the 1950s, but they were considerably rare before the 1990s and were generally seen as a death sentence to the career of any author daring enough to risk slipping a nipple onto the page.

If you wanted sex scenes, you wanted Erotic Romance, Erotica, or Porn - the ONLY 3 genres allowed to publish a sex scene in America, and YES the American government did and in fact still does have obscenity laws restricting what you can write, with sex outright not being allowed, by federal law, to be published in certain genres, until September 1997.

You might want to look up the federal laws that govern the publishing industry in America. Freedom of Speech ain't as free as you'd expect. There are a lot of things, you can't legally publish in America. 

No one ever referred to me as an Erotica author prior to 2013 when Kendra Silvermander highjacked my KBoards account while I was in the hospital, and started posting weird sex filled gibberish all over the forum using my account.

The Erotica rumor returned when Twitch streamer ThingyChan set out to making 5 hour long videos, detailing weird sex filled BDSM shit about me.

In both cases of Kendra and Claudia, it appears to be a case of "too retarded to know what words mean" followed by letting their overactive perverted, sex crazed imaginations run away with them on social media.

Both of them discovered I write in the Yaoi Genre and both of them, not knowing what Yaoi means, automatically thought Yaoi = Erotica/BDSM and ran wild spreading sex lies about me and what I write without ever once actually READING my novels to find out how incredible inaccurately they had misjudged me.

The fact remains, Quaraun is bisexual and polygamist. He has 2 male lovers: BoomFuzzy and GhoulSpawn, both of whom are gay, and he also has 3 female lovers, all 3 of whom are straight. Quaraun is married to all 5 of his lovers and they all live together.

And guess what?

Quaraun is also, not only asexual, he's a castrated eunuch, which you would have known if you had actually READ my novels instead of running around spreading lies and rumors about them.

Sex doesn't run Quaraun's life. He loves his partners very much - no sex required for that. They have a strong emotional bond. It's unbreakable, and when one of them dies, one of the others driven to suicide by it, which is a primary plot point for the entire series.

BoomFuzzy's suicide takes over Quaraun's entire life. He becomes obsessed with. BoomFuzzy commits suicide right in the beginning of the series. It's one of the first things that happens. And the whole rest of the series after that, is older Quaraun, retelling his life with BoomFuzzy. 

The series shifts back and forth. Chapter A is a flashback to the past when BoomFuzzy was still alive, chapter B shifts to the present where we see Quaraun slowly going insane, suffering suicidal guilt driven depression blaming himself for BoomFuzzy's suicide.

THAT is the ENTIRE story... all 138 novels and 2,000+ short stories.

It's not sex, it's not Erotica. It's a man torn apart and trying to find a reason to live after his lover commits suicide.

There ARE sensual scenes, that involve a lot of touching and groping, kissing and hugging, but sex itself occurs in only 21 scenes out of the entire series.

Quaraun has a raging phobia of both sex and humans. Being a small, feminine looking Elf, he is often mistaken by Humans for being aa female and over the years several men have raped or attempted to rape Quaraun.

Because Quaraun's father did not want Quaraun to be the next king, he gathered together several women hell bent on being the next King mother, and held Quaraun down while the women raped him. The even repeats itself, until one of the women finally gives birth to a male baby. This event happened shortly before Quaraun is castrated by his father. His intent was to ensure that Quaraun did not father another child which could lay claim to the throne.

Needless to say the very thought of sex traumatizes Quaraun on horrifying levels. This results in the strange relationships he has with his lovers.

The story follows their life and has no theme of sex or gay-rights or anything, even though haters have made such claims. In fact, the fact that the characters are gay, bi, ad polygamous is not even mentioned at all. AND, back in 1978 when I first started writing the series, I have never heard the word gay... in fact, the first time I ever heard the word gay was on September 12, 2015 when a mod of gay haters arrived in my driveway. Even though I had written a GAY couple for over 40 years, I had to Google the word GAY in 2016 to find out what GAY was, because I had never heard the term before. That's how big of a non-issue GAY is in the novels.

I had known a gay couple in Saco, Maine when I was a small child. They were friends of my grandmother and she often visited them and several times I had been with her. I was about 12 years old when one of them was murdered at Saco Shaw's - it was the first of 5 Saco Shaw's Transgender Murders that would happen at that store over the next 30 years. About a year later the other one commit suicide. While not my first encounter with death, his was my first encounter with suicide.

I think because I was so young, about 4 years old, when I met them, and they were married before I meet them, and this was back in the 1970s, that it never occurred to me, that men were "not supposed" to be a couple.

One was a transvestite. He did not try to be a woman, he just liked wearing prom dresses, and the other looked like Billy Idol, spiky white hair, always dressed in spiked black leather. They owned Maine's first Dollar store, which was in the Saco Shaw's parking lot. Both of them died in the store a year apart. One was murdered by gay haters in the store, the other hung him self in the store on the one anniversary of his partners murder.

This couple HEAVILY influenced Quaraun and BoomFuzzy's characters and the theme of suicide that is in the Quaraun novels.

When I created Quaraun and BoomFuzzy, I even designed them to look and dress and talk like this real world gay couple whom had owned the Saco Shaw's Dollar Store.

They were a married couple. I never noticed until almost 40 years later, that they were the ONLY male couple in town. I didn't see them as different. I didn't see them a unusual. They were just a married couple, live may parents and other kids parents, it never occurred to me that they were the ONLY couple who were 2 men.

So, I grew up, just thinking sometimes families had 2 dads. 

When the transvestite was murdered, it was the 1970s and I was so young, it never occurred to me that it was because he was married to another man. I didn't realize that was what happened until many years later.

When the "Billy Idol" one hung himself, we were at the store, so we saw him like that. Me and my grandmother. I was I around 12 at the time. I understood why he did it. He was so sad after his partner was murdered. 

I never forgot what happened to them and it just stuck with me my whole life, that these men really loved each other a lot, so much that they couldn't live without each other and I just started writing stories about them and over time it evolved and became the Quaraun series.

It's not sex, it's not Erotica. It's man torn apart and trying to find a reason to live after his lover commits suicide.

And you people who call my work Erotica... you all ought to be ashamed of yourselves.

You judged it without reading it. Had you read it, you'd have known what it was. So all of you "god hates sex" protests in my driveway... you blew up my house with a bomb for nothing, you murdered my children for nothing. You stupid ass idiots. May you all burn in hell where you belong.

 The series spans 138 novels, 2,000+ short stories, more 8 million words total, and has exactly 21 sex scenes, which are there only because they were important to the plot, and they fade to black.

The story is Quaraun murdered someone and is on the run, at first alone, but he meets people alone the way, who, like him are outcasts of society for one reason or another and they form a sort of DnD/Pathfinder type adventuring group that travels together.

Quaraun started out as a character I played in Dungeons & Dragons, decades ago. And the earliest stories about him, were nothing more than me writing down the game story as my game group played the game. The character was created because the Dungeon Master wanted to hide the game's end boss villain (a Necromancer) in the adventure party, for the 2edAD&D Temple of Elemental Evil and needed a player he could trust to play a Chaotic Evil character and not let the rest of the players know the character was evil. The DM gave me the stats and I created a Moon Elf.  With the release of SpellJammer a few years later, I kept the character going in the SpellJammer Champaign, and than in a RavenLoft one as well. Quaraun, BoomFuzzy, BeLuna, ZooLock, and Bullgaar were all characters I played in various campaigns with this game group. It was a large group with 15 players and 3 DMs (myself being one of the DMs) and 9 of us were published authors who were writing our novels based off the game nights. Because of this most of the Quaraun novels are heavily influenced by Temple of Elemental Evil, Raveloft, and SpellJammer. Because 9 of us were authors, we all retained the characters we personally played as our main characters in our novels, and changed the names and races of other players' characters, that way ONLY my novels contained Quaraun, BoomFuzzy, BeLuna, ZooLock, and Bullgaar, but never contained any characters played by other players. Each author did the same, and all of us published 50+ novels each over the course of running this D&D game group.

Quaraun was not originally written as a gay/bi character, as can be seen by the early stories when he had multiple wives and 8 children. This changed when an affair started between him and another Elf wizard as a result of a gay player wanting to play his own character gay and there being no one else willing to declare their character gay and his (the player's) boyfriend not wanting to join the game group. He designed his character as a half-elf wizard, with a pocket full of parrots. In the Quaraun novel's his character was changed to a Demon named GhoulSpawn and the pockets full of parrots became pockets full of sheep.

Also, Quaraun's a serial killer. Remember, I said he was designed to be the final boss villain of 2edAD&D's Temple of Elemental Evil, and part of what the DM's plan was, was for my character to one by one kill off the entire adventuring party, then resurrect them as Liches. This required players, to be killed in the game, without knowing my character had killed them, and than, being contacted that night, after the game, by the DM, to inform them: "DO NOT roll out a new character! Here's what's happening. You are now one of the Necromancer's minions. The Moon Elf will resurrect you and you are now Lawful Evil, and a Lich, but you have to pretend to be Lawful Good and don't let anyone know you are evil or a lich now." 

In the novels, like in the game, the murders are grizzly rituals, with scenes drawn out in medically accurate gory detail. Thus why the series is rate M18 or M21 in countries which have book ratings, and banned from being sold in some countries. Why would you call something like that Erotica? If you are so sick and so twisted that you would call something like THAT Erotica, than you probably belong in prison yourself.

Quaraun IS the villain. That's why he never fights any villains in the series. It's WHY the series goes on with Quaraun able to enter any village, any town, and country, any planet, with no one challenging him, and people running away in terror at the sight of him. He's the ultimate super villaincompletely undefeatable. Unlike most story arches in typical fiction, the heroes NEVER win in the Quaraun series. Every hero who ever enters Quaraun's life to try to stop him, winds up dead and eaten. Every adventuring party that arrives to stop him is obliterated.

Quaraun is the most powerful wizard of the known universe. He's invincible. He's The Pink Necromancer. And any D&D style adventure party that tries to stop him, he just unleashes Pocket Lich - his pet DracoLich - on them, or BoomFuzzy - his Undead purple lich unicorn. Quaraun is more powerful than the Lich Lords, he made the Lich Lords, he controls the Liches.

Quaraun's world is dark and bloody. You're very in the wrong place if you came here looking for sex and Erotica, because you will not find that here.

The characters I played in Dungeons and Dragons (2ed AD&D, 3rd ed, 3.5 ed, 4th ed, 4.5 ed... I've never played 5th ed - I have more than 10,000 DnD, Pathfinder, Warhammer, d20, MTG, EverQuest, Iron Kingdoms, and other such games splat books/game guides, etc). 


The characters I played in Dungeons and Dragons are:


   *   Quaraun: Moon Elf Prince - Necromancer; infected with Mind Flayer Larva in his brain and will eventually evolve into a Mind flayer; primary attack is resurrecting dead flowers/plants/trees as armies of undead.


   *   BoomFuzzy aka King Gwallmaiic The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley: Phooka/Kelpie/Evil Unicorn - Candy Chef Illusionist; makes marshmallow bunnies that transform into Holy Hand Grenades when thrown at enemies; delights in skewering Humans on his horn


   *   GhoulSpawn: Half Sun Elf, Half Cotswold Sheep Demon - Portal Master, Beast lord, and Chaos Sorceror - a coward who flees from fights, but throws glittering sheep into the path of enemies when doing so, causing confusion in the enemies, allowing the entire party to escape through a portal he made


   *   BeaLuna: Flower Gnome - Assassin/Rouge, Alchemist, Pixie Hunter; has a pair of ruby encrusted magic daggers and keeps pixies in glass jars


   *   Bullgaar: Half Dwarf Half Mountain Troll - Barbarian Warrior - a very big and very stupid Dwarf with rock-like skin


   *   FarDaariig: A Farrdariig (Welsh Vampire Leprechaun); wears a coat made of Human skin, dyed red with human blood; Mind Control -semi-psion, makes drugged food that he gives to travellers, causes them to sleepwalk off cliffs allow him to defeat enemies without actually confronting them in battle


   *   AlKeeme aka The Lansquin: Moon Elf - Quaraun's great-grandson; Cult Leader, Alchemist. Used alchemy to transform into a Gorgon/Snake-shifter beast. Uses mind control to turn enemies on each other.


   *   ZooLock: Illithid/Mind Flayer - Psion Priest with a pet Jelly Cube; A coward who flees fights, but leaves behind bloodthirsty flying pink goldfish and giant green jelly cubes, both of which massacre the attackers; worships the Sacred Pink JellyFish a female god wo is bored with being a god and has taken refuge in the brain of an Elf (the parasite that has burrowed into Quaraun's brain)

As Illithids/Mind Flayers are copyrighted character races and can not be used in published works not published by Wizards of the Coast, ZooLock underwent a race/species change in the published Quaraun novels, but in the original game play, he was a Mind flayer. 


...and they all appear in the Quaraun novels and do the same things they did your game group's game nights.

Does ANY of ^THAT^ sound like BDSM Erotica to YOU?

Let me tell you more about these novels they are calling BDSM and Erotica.

BoomFuzzy aka Unicorn is NOT a good person.

Let me repeat that:

BoomFuzzy is evil.

He's a serial killer known as The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

People call him this because he eats Elves.

He is in the habit of befriending an Elf, getting it to trust him, seducing it, making it his lover, than viciously attacking, killing, and eating it.

Quaraun is fully aware of this. But Quaraun, as a young child, had an emo-like crush on this villain whom all Elf children were taught to be on the look out for. When as a young adult Quaraun meets The Elf Eater, he is attacked, beaten, taken prisoner, and raped. Quaraun escapes and flees. Years later, they meet again and this time The Elf Eater is now very old, elderly, crippled, almost blind, and nearly starved to death. 

Initially Quaraun plans to kill the evil creature that has murdered thousands of Elves. But when BoomFuzzy does not fight back and simply let's Quaraun kill him, saying it would be a mercy for his life to end, Quaraun can't bring himself to kill the beast and ends up taking care of BoomFuzzy, nursing him back to health. They live together for about 30 years, but Quaraun is a very young Elf, he'll live another 500 years or more, and BoomFuzzy is an ancient Phooka somewhere around 2,000 years old. Old age, arthritis, dementia, Alzheimer's, blindness, and manic depression are all things the Phooka is suffering from. 

One day a village of Elves finds out Quaraun is living with The Elf Eater as his lover, and they attack the couple. Quaraun is seriously injured. BoomFuzzy rescues him, but gets stabbed in the belly when doing so. While nursing Quaraun back to health, BoomFuzzy neglects his own injury and it becomes infected. Knowing he will not live more than a few weeks and not wanting to suffer in agony just to die, BoomFuzzy kills himself and Quaraun is devastated and feels responsible for BoomFuzzy's suicide. 

Quaraun uses magic to preserve BoomFuzzy's body and spends 100 years studying Necromancy in search of a way to restore BoomFuzzy's life. Quaraun eventual raises BoomFuzzy from the dead as a Lich and does the spell wrong, also resurrecting dead trees, dead rose bushes, dead wildlife (deer, rabbits, etc.), and all the dead in several local graveyards  all as liches too. 

Quaraun is horrified by what he has done and goes into hiding for 300 years, terrified to face the world, now that he's unwittingly unleashed a massive hoard of assorted undead on society. Ghosts of his long dead old friends start to follow him around, and he spends time talking with them, but no one but Quaraun can see BeaLuna or Bullgaar so everyone thinks Quaraun's insane.

The world believes Quaraun is an evil super villain who created the Liches to take over the planet. BoomFuzzy thinks it's hilarious because he WAS trying to take over the planet and Quaraun gave him a way to do so, while also making BoomFuzzy immortal. BoomFuzzy will stop at nothing to destroy everything and everyone, and now Quaraun is suicidal over the guilt of having unleashed this madman on the world. Blinded by love, Quaraun didn't want to believe BoomFuzzy was evil, but now he sees BoomFuzzy for what he is. But, BoomFuzzy actually does love Quaraun and wants to keep Quaraun from committing suicide. Quaraun attempts suicide in almost every novel, and the plot is often around BoomFuzzy's attempt to keep Quaraun alive. Quaraun, realizing that he can keep BoomFuzzy from hurting others by keeping the Phooka's focus on him, uses this to try to keep BoomFuzzy from hurting others.

Quaraun knew that BoomFuzzy was dangerous. He loved the thrill of the danger. It was a fantasy of his that he never thought would come true. He never expected to meet The Elf Eater.

It is also well established that Quaraun is not mentally competent. For lack of a better word, Quaraun is borderline retarded in many respects. He was born "slow". He's not very smart, most consider him stupid. We see scenes of him in early childhood and it is apparent from as early as 3 years old, that Quaraun is not right in the head. Quaraun's father is abusive of him for this very reason. 

The King believes his son to have been infected by a type of Demon (called a Thullid) that starts out as a maggot like larvae, crawls up your nostril, burrows into your brain, slowly eats your brain, and as it's body grows it fills your skull, replacing your brain, while sending long tentacles into your spine to attach to your nerves. You eventually die and it takes over your body, and no one ever knows you die because it fuses to you and it effectively becomes you, taking over your identity and living as you. This is the process of "Demon Possession" in Quaraun's world, where Demon Possession is not a spiritual possession but rather an actual alien creature possessing your body.

And, the King is not wrong. When Quaraun was 3 years old, he and his mother were attacked by Thullids. Both were implanted. Quaraun's father noticed a change in his wife's habits and killed her by smashing her head in with a rock, to break open her skull and pull the JellyFish-like creature out of her brain. He than stomped the Thullid to death. Quaraun witnessed this. Only 3 years old, he was deeply traumatized by what he had seen, and no one believed him when he told other adults that his father had killed his mother. Quaraun was sent away to a wizarding school on the other side of the planet and it was there that he was raised and heard stories of the Elf Eater and eventually came to meet the Elf Eater.

Young and foolish, born not quite "right" mentally, and suffering from a Thullid infestation in his brain, Quaraun was not prone to thinking clearly or rationally, and when he realized who BoomFuzzy was, he foolishly thought he could change the Elf Eater's ways, buy casting a soul binding spell. Quaraun literally cut his soul in half, and cut BoomFuzzy's soul in half, and switched souls. Taking half of The Elf Eater's soul and putting half of his soul in BoomFuzzy.

And while the soul binding ritual worked to somewhat tame the Elf Eater, by making him more like the timid Elf Quaraun was, the soul binding also made Quaraun more violent by making him more like the vicious Phooka BoomFuzzy was.

The two became as one being, knowing each others' thoughts, feeling every pain the other feels. If one became drunk, they both got intoxicated. If one took drugs, they both got high. When one was stabbed, they both felt the pain. When one was wounded, they both started bleeding. When one caught the flue, they both got a fever. Quaraun had underestimated the full effects of the hive mind of soul binding and never even thought about the fact that he would become like BoomFuzzy.

When BoomFuzzy died, Quaraun felt it happen inside of him, as though he himself were dying. And after BoomFuzzy was gone, Quaraun couldn't function, because half of his soul died with BoomFuzzy and was now gone, while half of BoomFuzzy's dead soul was still inside him, slowly turning Quaraun into an undead creature.

When Quaraun resurrects BoomFuzzy as a Lich, the spell goes wrong because of the soul binding spell, and Quaraun partly becomes a Lich himself.

This all happens with in the first few chapters and is how the series starts.

The end result is they have a very hostile and toxic relationship. BoomFuzzy is violent, a drug dealer, and is often drunk. He's prone to drug Quaraun's food and drink, keeping the Elf constantly high. BoomFuzzy beats Quaraun up frequently and is not uncommon for Quaraun to be seen with a black eye, a bloody nose, or a split lip.

GhoulSpawn sees this and is actively trying to break them up out of fear that BoomFuzzy with beat Quaraun to death. GhoulSpawn and Quaraun become lovers and that sends BoomFuzzy on a violent rampage with Quaraun, and starts beating on him worse than before.

The whole thing is a big mess.

And while this quick bit of info may seem to imply Quaraun is a misunderstood hero, nothing could be further from the truth. Quaraun, in order to resurrect BoomFuzzy, murdered his wife and four children, than killed and ate his father, and than poisoned all the food in his village and sat on the king's throne and laughed while watching everyone frothing blood and coughing up their acid dissolved organs. He later murdered his 2 best friends BeaLuna and BullGaar. He makes and sells magic items to other wizards, but if you piss him off, he'll put a curse on the item before selling it to you, so that it turns into a mimic and eats you. He routinely hunts down Wood Elves, imprisons them, tortures them, then gives them to BoomFuzzy who cooks and eats them. A total male slut, Quaraun is prone to having affairs with anyone and everyone every time he angry at BoomFuzzy.

They are both, very bad people.

Does ANY of THIS sound like BDSM or Erotica to YOU?

Their relationship is not "cute" or "BDSM" even though it has been called both, by readers.

While they do both love each other and they are generally happy together, they are two very violent, high strung, temperamental, spiteful men. And their relationship is very violent and abusive.

And it seems that a lot of people can't tell the difference between an abusive relationship and BDSM. Likewise a lot of people can't seem to tell the difference between the horrors of rape and the pleasures of Erotica.

I feel that there is a rather disturbing trend the past 4 or 5 years, of authors writing weird abuse-based fetish sex and selling it as Erotica or Erotic Romance, which has lead to the trend in young readers, reading books like the Quaraun series and calling it's extreme levels of abuse "BDSM Erotica" without actually knowing what BDSM even is.

BDSM is consensual.

Abuse is not.

If a character is being taken advantage of by another character, that is NOT seduction, that is abuse.


I shouldn't need to say this as it should be plain and simple common sense, but...


ABUSE IS NOT BDSM!


AND


RAPE IS NOT EROTICA!

And if you think it is,

please get psychiatric help.

You NEED it!

HOW did Kendra Silvermander, ThingyChan, or their hoards of super-Christian, gay-hating, followers get the idea that anything in my life, let alone the Quaraun novels, were in any way connected to sex, BDSM, Erotica, or dominatrixes?

And WHY did their group of super-Christian, gay haters decide any of this was reason to blow up my house with a bomb, drive a backhoe over the house which replaced that house, trash my cars, or murder my family? 

They did these things saying citing that it was because I was: gay, trans, dominatrix, into BDSM, and wrote Erotica. And yet, I am/do NONE of those things!


Let me repeat this:


   *   They put a bomb in my house because they FALSELY CLAIMED I was: gay, trans, dominatrix, into BDSM, and wrote Erotica. And yet, I am/do NONE of those things!


   *   They drove a back hoe over my next house because they FALSELY CLAIMED I was: gay, trans, dominatrix, into BDSM, and wrote Erotica. And yet, I am/do NONE of those things!


   *   They trashed my cars - 5 of them - because they FALSELY CLAIMED I was: gay, trans, dominatrix, into BDSM, and wrote Erotica. And yet, I am/do NONE of those things!


   *   They MURDERED my children and nailed their heads to my door because they FALSELY CLAIMED I was: gay, trans, dominatrix, into BDSM, and wrote Erotica. And yet, I am/do NONE of those things!


What the fuck?

What is wrong with these people?

I CosPlay characters from the novels at book signings, lectures, writing workshops, carnivals, festivals, car shows, and YouTube-Twitch-gaming-geek-comic book conventions (ComicCon, etc)

Interestingly, this has caused some very WILD rumors about me.

Because I CosPlay male characters, many of Maine's ignorant locals call me trans, transgender, or transvestite, and this had lead to groups such as West Burrow Baptist Church, Curtis Lake Church, That Church (in Biddeford), Arundel Christian Tabernacle, and even my own church The Saco Ward of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, to arrive in massive and violent protests and riots on my farm. 

People often ask why I no longer attend the local Mormon Church (The Saco Ward of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints), but as you recall, May 2010 this church was the one who cute my car (the 1964 Dodge 330) in half claiming it was demon possessed and that they had to kill the car in order to kill the demon in the car.

My Dazzling Razzberry was in the parking lot of his church when acid was poured on the windshield in 2016.

On 4 occasions between 2010 and 2017 my Volvo had all 4 tires slashed while parked here.

This is the church where a pair of missionaries, pushed me off the curb in front of a car.

This is the church my Volvo was at when the brake lines were cut: 13 times over the period of 7 years.

This is the church where my Volvo was parked when the power steering line was sawed off - 3 times in 4 years.

This is the church, who in 1994 gathered in my yard and beat my 27 year old horse to death, by smashing her in the face with large rocks.

Tis is the church, who bought all of my books from local bookstores and staged a book burning bonfire on my lawn - 8times since 2010, the most recent one in 2018.

The last time I attended, the Relief Society women, refused to allow me in the building, and had gathered a pile of rocks and were throwing them at me.

278 members of this church claim I am a witch, 14 families in this church claim I used curses to kill a member of their family, 16 bishops have been excommunicated for their involvement in hate crimes, 3 of those bishops were institutionalized at Pine Land Center (Maine's government run mental institute for the criminally insane), 3 members of this church including the Bishop who was also Old Orchard Beach's town manager have gone to prison for their hate crimes including the bomb that blew up my house, and the current bishop's younger brother is the "Corporal" of the local Neo-Nazi Organization and fronts some of the most violent Ku Klux Klan attacks east of the Mississippi.

I am a 5th generation LDS/Mormon and the only reason I no longer attend church is because it's rather expensive to pay on average $5k in repairs to my car every week and $200k in hospital bills every year, because of the extreme levels of violence committed by the members of this church.

In every case of a violent attack, members of these churches, make the false claim that I am gay, a witch, trans, or an Erotica author, and make the claim they were told this by God himself and that God instructed them to do the violent hate acts they committed. 

In one instance, they had even printed up INFO OFF OF THIS PAGE of my website, and claimed that that page was an "About Me" page. ... uhm... yeah, go look at which page it is, I'll wait.

Did you see WHICH page it is?

Yeah.

They printed up sections of that page, specifically the part about Quaraun being a castrated eunuch, not willingly, after people in his village hung him upside down naked in a tree and tortured him, than mutilated his genitals, and afterwards he became a serial killer to punish people who tortured gay men.

They printed up that section of that page, in 2015 and 2016, and posted flyers all over Southern Maine, saying that I, ME, not Quaraun, by EelKat, was a dangerous serial killer, out to kill all Christians, and was gathering up an army of gay men to to kill all non gays in Maine, out of vengeance for being a castrated man.

Yeah. I have copies of the flyers. Gene Libby gave them to me. Don't know HIM - oh just, you know - Google him. See WHO he is and WHAT he does? Yeah. The Old Orchard Beach Town Hall actually sued me for being "Too gay to live in the family friendly town of Old Orchard Beach, where gays are not allowed to own houses, business, or property." And the PROFILE PAGE FOR A FICTIONAL CHARACTER was the evidence that their lawyer handed to the judge in court, while claiming that I WAS Quaraun... he used photos of my off the PortCon Convention website, there page where I was listed as a winner of best costume... and tried to tell the court that was me, every day.

It takes 4 hours to put the Quaraun CosPlay on, that's why I wear it at so few conventions. And that wig is a good 90F - it's almost impossible to wear that costume for more than 2 or 3 hours.

But the idiots who run the Town of Old Orchard Beach, can't separate a FICTIONAL ELF WIZARD from the author who wrote him.

Why?

Guess who else was involved?

Yep.

Kendra Silvermander. 

SHE is the one who printed up those flyers. No. This wasn't just some random internet troll. Kendra Silvermander is local. VERY local.

Walk out my driveway, turn right, keep going until you get to a little blue breakfast café. There she is. How long did it take you to get there? 3 minutes? 4 minutes? Yes, she's VERY local. One my street local.

She printed up tens of thousands of those flyers, put them on every telephone pole, every church, every mailbox, in every restaurant ... in York County.

When you ask HOW did it reach the point that 30,000 people arrived in my yard and trashed my farm... THAT is how.

Online, offline, she went on a vendetta.

And to this day, I still don't know why.

She is the source of every sex rumor about me. She is the source of the Erotica rumors, the gay rumors, the trans rumors, and she is the ring leader behind every violent attack....

...I've begged police for help for well over 2 decades now.



She's a stalker, with severe mental disorders.

   *   No one would help. Not even after the bomb blew up my house in October 16, 2006.

   *   No one would help. Not even after 75 pet roosters were beheaded, rope nooses tied round their necks and they hung in my rose bushes in 2007.

   *   No one would help. Not even after my car was cut in half in 2010.

   *   No one would help. Not even after the back hoe ran over my house August 8, 2013.

   *   No one would help. Not even after Kendra Silvermander herself, arrived at Southern Maine Community College, armed with golf clubs and attacked me, broken my spine, my hips, my knees, left me for dead, leaving me paralyzed for 5 months and spending 18 months relearning to walk, November 14, 2013.

   *   No one would help. Not even after my children were kidnapped April 10, 2015.

   *   No one would help. Not even after my children were murdered, their heads nailed to my door May 15, 2015.

   *   No one would help. Not even after Kendra Silvermander herself, arrived at Scarborough, WalMart, armed with a shopping cart and attacked me AGAIN, leaving me paralyzed AGAIN, June 26, 2016... this time damaging my spinal column, in addition to again breaking my spine, hips, and knees. I'm crippled for the rest of my life now.

There were witnesses for EVERY event, but no one ever helped. Not once. Not one single, solitary time, has ANYONE ever stepped up to help me.

Not once.

Everyone did exactly 2 things: They either turned a blind eye and said it wasn't their problem, or they they joined in and helped harass us.


April 10, 2015, we were attacked by 14 men armed with guns... and more than 70 of my neighbours, right here all the houses that can be seen from my address 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine... all came out of their houses, and stood in my driveway, while those 14 men, tied wire lines around our necks and beat us in the face with cinder block bricks, while holding hand guns to our heads.


^^^THAT^^^ is what Kendra Silvermander's sex lies about me caused.


Remember folks: 


   *   YOU thinking about sex while I talk, DOES NOT mean that I was talking about sex.


   *   YOU fantasizing about sex while you read, DOES NOT mean that I wrote a sex scene.


   *   YOU sexualizing things and jerking off to them, is NOT me writing titillation for you.


    *   YOU thinking about sex while reading a book I wrote, does NOT mean the book is Erotica, it just means that YOU are a fucking pervert capable of sexualizing anything and everything.


AND:


    *   YOU THINKING ABOUT SEX WHILE YOU READ A BOOK THAT I WROTE IS NOT AN EXCUSE YOU CAN USE TO GET AWAY WITH MURDERING MY FAMILY!

The problem with these attackers is can not see or hear them coming and I can not cry out for help.

I originally took up writing because I was mute.

I had no other way to communicate.

There are reasons why I was mute, which I won't go into here, but I talk about n detail on several other pages of my site, so it's easy enough to find out what happened.

I fact is, I was born with speech, hearing, and eye/seeing medical issues. 

I've had a slur/stutter since I was a baby. I still have it, though it's less now thanks to speech therapy classes I took in my 40s.

I am severely hearing impaired. I have been since I was born. As a child, I tested at having the hearing of a 60 year old, and it's grown worse over the years. Now 50 years later, I am almost deaf and do not hear people when they talk to me. I do more reading of lips than I do hearing of words, so you MUST be looking straight at me while you talk, and I MUST be looking at your face, otherwise, I will not hear a word you say and I will not know you said anything to me at all.

My inability to hear well causes more issues than my vision and speaking impairments.

Also I come from a culture where women are not allowed to speak unless a man gives them permission to, and she can not ask for permission. She must be given permission to even ask for permission. So I NEVER start/initiate conversations with ANY ONE... EVER. Before you can talk to me, you must get permission from a male relative to ask him for permission to speak to me, and if I am to answer you he must grant permission for that as well. Females have no freedom or rights in Gypsy culture. 

So, AFTER you get permission to speak to me, THAN you have to get my attention to get me to NOTICE that you are talking.

I can not hear you speak, I need to read your lips. But, I'm not allowed to look up, women are required to always look at the ground. 

One I'm looking at you, I can read your lips IF you are close enough to me. I can only see 18 inches in front of my face. Less than 2 feet. So you need to be VERY close to me before I can SEE you talking and try to translate what you are saying.

This process makes talking to anyone rather difficult for me and is why you see me talking on Twitch streams and YouTube videos, because I can face the camera and talk, but also why you see me NOT talking to actual people in face to face conversations, because I can not hear or see what you are saying, making it incredibly difficult for me to understand what you want and reply accordingly.

I've lived with this issue my whole life.

I don't know what it is like to see or hear normally the way fully sighted or fully hearing people can do. And as such, I have great difficulty in writing people/characters who have good vision or good hearing, and is WHY the bulk of the characters I write have hearing, speaking, and or vision issues. I write what I know.

I've been legally blind on one eye and nearly blind in the other eye since I was 8 years old, because again an uncle with masonry equipment beating me in the face.

I've suffered with Selective Mutism my whole life, I stull struggle with it to this day.

When I was 14 I suffered an injury that went ignored by adults. I became "near mute". Meaning nearly always mute and struggling to form fragmented phrases, let alone full sentences. 

I remained "near mute" until I was 42 years old, when I had an MRI for other things, and the MRI revealed, I had suffered a serious injury to my jaw, and no one thought to take me to the hospital.

At 42 years old, I had surgery on my jaw, replacing much of my jaw bone, reconstructing the muscles/bones/nerves, and the exhorbantly expensive root channels, removal, and porcelain replacement of 7 teeth from the canine tooth back to the morals.

Did you know, it cost over $2k for EACH replacement tooth, and I had to 7 of them. And that just EACH replacement tooth, that doesn't include the 7 root channels, the bone replacement surgery. It cost $14k just to replace the 7 teeth my Uncle Bruce shattered with a brick.

In total, with the MRIs, the spine surgery, the hip surgery, the knee surgery that I required because of Kendra and her golf clubs... in total it cost over $3MILLION to rebuild my bones.

And I don't have Medical Insurance, because my income is less than $4k a year and insurance at the cheapest with Obamacare is $237 a month.

And miraculously, a month later after the stitches were gone, the incisions healed, and swollen gone away... I was suddenly able to talk for the first time since the cinder block had been used to beat me in the face at 14 years old.

Today, I can talk, and I've been revealed to not be "retarded" as the adults had told every one I was for so many years.

Unable to talk, I was also unable to tell people how much pain I was in or that my uncle Bruce Mervin Atwater had beaten me in the face with a brick and broken my jaw and teeth.

I was treated by EVERYONE - family, friends, church, and strangers - as though I was too stupid to understand them, so no one talked to me, no one bothered to read what I wrote to find out I had a brain and was also in a lot of pain.

My parents told everyone I was too retarded to talk and no one bothered to question if maybe they were just saying that to hide their own abuse and neglect.

This the reality of being mute.

No one cares.

People think you are stupid.

And you have no one to turn to for help.

And you can't ask for help because you can't speak.

You can express yourself, but no one pays attention.

You can write words on paper. But no one bothers to read them.

When you are mute you are invisible to every one with a voice. And THAT is why people think they can get away with beating, abusing, and raping mute people. Because they know, no one cares. No one see our silent screams.

That's just the way it is.

And that is the problem with these attackers and their ability to so easily sneak up on me. I can not hear them coming, I can not see them coming, so they take me by surprise when they charge up behind me with golf clubs or shopping cart, because I had no idea they were there, no idea they were charging towards, me no time to get out of their way and being mute I can't scream for help,

I can not see or hear them coming and I can not cry out for help.

And people like Kendra Silvermander and my uncle Mervin Bruce Atwater, is they know I'm legally blind, they know I can't see them coming, they know I'm almost deaf, they know I can't hear them coming, and they know I'm mute, they know I can't scream for help, so they think they can beat me nearly and get away with it.  They think no one will ever find out what they did.

Remember folks: 


   *   YOU thinking about sex while I talk, DOES NOT mean that I was talking about sex.


   *   YOU fantasizing about sex while you read, DOES NOT mean that I wrote a sex scene.


   *   YOU sexualizing things and jerking off to them, is NOT me writing titillation for you.


    *   YOU thinking about sex while reading a book I wrote, does NOT mean the book is Erotica, it just means that YOU are a fucking pervert capable of sexualizing anything and everything.


AND:


    *   YOU THINKING ABOUT SEX WHILE YOU READ A BOOK THAT I WROTE IS NOT AN EXCUSE YOU CAN USE TO GET AWAY WITH MURDERING MY FAMILY!

And you people who spread sex rumors and sex lies, know that every one of those rumors and lies were started by Mervin Bruce Atwater. A horrible, evil man, who devoted his life to sexually abusing children.

He started those rumors, after the FBI raid rescued us children, because he never expected us children to ever escape, to ever see the outside world, and knew he had to do something to pre-discredit those children, just in case one of them told anyone what he did to them.

The thing was, no one was talking. We all just wanted to recover, move on, and live a life free from his sexual tortures.

We wanted to forget Uncle Brucie even existed.

So had he not started the sex rumors, about me and the 140 others, none of us, me or them, would have ad any reason to speak out, because the attacks on us, by locals whom he instigated, locals like Kendra Silvermander, none of us ever would have talked to anyone about what happened.

Know your sources before you say something.

Know the source of everything you say, because you just might be quoting lies started by a pedophile, who started those lies to try to cover his ass.

Unlike Mervin Bruce Atwater, I have nothing to hide.


Remember folks: 


   *   YOU thinking about sex while I talk, DOES NOT mean that I was talking about sex.


   *   YOU fantasizing about sex while you read, DOES NOT mean that I wrote a sex scene.


   *   YOU sexualizing things and jerking off to them, is NOT me writing titillation for you.


    *   YOU thinking about sex while reading a book I wrote, does NOT mean the book is Erotica, it just means that YOU are a fucking pervert capable of sexualizing anything and everything.


AND:


    *   YOU THINKING ABOUT SEX WHILE YOU READ A BOOK THAT I WROTE IS NOT AN EXCUSE YOU CAN USE TO GET AWAY WITH MURDERING MY FAMILY!

Kendra Silvermander... what the fuck? You don't hire a hit man to blow up someone's house, because you don't like a novel they wrote!

Claudia ThingyChan ... what the fuck? You don't hire 5 men to gang rape someone one and vandalise they car, because you don't like a novel they wrote!

Are you both fucking retarded? What the fuck is wrong with you, and your shit head simps you paid to do these thing? 

I was astounded when I encountered one psychopath like this, but now a second one?

And, then to top it all off, you fucking murder my family?

What the fuck?

And your reason, is because your upset over my books being Erotica... what?

My books are not Erotica! You murdered my family because you thought I wrote Erotica, and I don't even write Erotica.

You were so damned stupid that you couldn't even take the time to READ one of my books, to find out what they were before you put a bomb in my house, kidnapped my children, cut their heads off, nailed their heads to my door, than trashed my car.

You were so hell bent on killing Erotica authors, punishing them on God's orders, that you couldn't even be bothered to find out what I even wrote.

You were so convinced that I wrote Erotica, you never even bothered to read one of my books, to see if you were right or not.

I still want to know, how the fuck, did you come to the conclusion that my books were Erotica to begin with.

I don't know if there's an actual name for what I do, but I usually call it "The Exploration Method". I don't know if it's common or unique. I don't know if others do it or not. I have never studied writing methods or how to plot or outline, so I can't really compare if what I do is similar to what others do or not.

I'm someone who in real life, travels in a motorhome, camps, hikes mountain trails, explores forests, visits tourists sites, and am prone to just get in the car and start driving, just to see where this road goes. When I first started writing, I was writing travel shorts for travel magazines. 

But than I discovered that I love building fictional fantasy worlds based off of real places I had visited or places I wanted to visit. And so I became one of those writers who world-builds endlessly and never wrote anything about that world. I'd create characters, build world, create characters, build worlds, travel around New England, write for travel magazines, build worlds, and than one day it occurred to me that I had all these places created, based off all these real world places I had visited, why don't I do something with it?

So, I started writing little short stories, about the characters I created, exploring the world I had created. I never set out to publish it. It was just quick little short stories that I wrote before bed every night because they were fun to write. Some friends from church wanted to read them, so I used a local copy shop to print up a few copies to hand out. Before long I was printing up a few hundred copies at a time and selling them at booths at local festivals. One thing led to another and it gains a following on a local level, and than word or mouth from my readers, caused out of state people to want it, so I started self publishing it, and over the years ebooks came to exist, and after about 30 years and 2,000 short stories it evolved into novels, and eventually it gained a rather large following, today 43 years later after starting the series, it has around 27,000 die hard fans/readers who buy every copy today, but it was never something I set out to publish at all, and even to this day, I don't try to make it "marketable" and I still write it same as I always did.

But the whole thing is literally just me grabbing a character and dropping them into a random location in my world I built, and just having them explore the land like a tourists on a hiking trip. So it has a lot of dialogue about random shit as the 2 or 3 characters hike, and lots of descriptions of the world in between. It's kind of straight up a travel blog by an Elf wizard and there's no real plot at all.

It's just plain fun to write. I get to "world build as I go" and I discover the world together with the Elf wizard, and it's like I'm there hiking with my best friend, in the fictional world I created. For me it's just super fun to write, and as I write for fun and not for money, it works for me.

I created the characters around 50 years ago, fell in love with them, and just started following them wherever they went. I've never used a plot or plan or outline. I never start with any ideas. I just write and see where it goes. Novels sometimes meander around aimlessly because of it, and at times readers complain about the extreme experimental plotless story-flow-style, but it's a pure adventure to write as I have no clue where the characters will go or what they will do or who they will meet. It's like I'm a reader, reading it for the first time and doesn't feel like I'm the writer. 

This probably wouldn't work for everyone. The only reason it works for me is I know the cast of characters inside out. I know them better than I know any real people in real life. There is one main character who is in every novel, his primary lover who is in almost every novel, his other lover who is in most novels, and than there is a rotating cast of about 20 characters who appear at random. So usually there will be 2 to 3 primary characters and 2 to 3 minor characters in each novel. I think, this method of "plotting" wouldn't work unless you had a cast of characters that you know really, really well, so you know what they would do, what they would say, and you never stop the flow of writing to ask yourself "What SHOULD they do next?" because you already know that character A when faced with random event X-Y-Z WOULD respond by doing ___.

Also while it's Epic Length High Fantasy, it steps VERY far outside the norm of what most mainstream Fantasy "formula" follows. It's written more like Days of Our Lives type Slice of Life Soap Opera TV Family Saga Drama, about Elves, Faeries, and Mages, and it doesn't have any of the typical action, adventure, quest seeking, monster hunting, kings/factions fighting for the crown that you normally see in Fantasy novels. So it very heavily character driven and focuses nearly 100% on character emotions to create conflict and push the story forward. So that too, I think lends itself to this "plotless" style of following the character and see what they do type of plotting/writing method.

But, I think the thing that makes it work best of all, is the actual writing style itself. The whole thing is written as though it was a travel blog. So for the reader, it's like going to a travel blog and reading the daily posts of the blogger while they hike across the country. The main character and his friends are "homeless" vagabonds, sleep on the road, and are just traveling around the world aimlessly with no goal of getting anywhere. They just hike the roads, and stop at tourists sites, talk with random people they meet along the way, it's just them going wherever the road takes them to see what they can find. The stories are very "literary slice of life" style, where not a lot of "action" happens, and it's mostly just 2 or 3 characters talking lazily while they lazily hike across the country. Most novels literally take place in the space of only a couple of hours. Rarely does a novel span a full day or more than one day, and usually it's a line by line look at the every day details of their "dull, boring, eventless" every day lives. So, it's also very much NOT for every reader either, very niche.

Well, it's not ALL totally random. I subscribe to travel type magazines, like National Geographic (which is my fave magazine and the one I use most often for this) and I've got thousands of issues dating all the way back to the 1970s. I've never thrown away any of my travel magazines. So, what I'll do is, I'll grab a magazine at random, don't even look to see which one it is. Than I open it to any random page, and look at the photo on that page. It might be a bird standing in a swamp, or a homeless child sleeping on a garbage heap, or a snow covered mountain, or the damage done by a typhoon... it doesn't matter what it is, whatever it is, that's what I start off with.

I start every novel the same way: main character and crew are sitting around talking (usually at a campsite in the forest or at a table in a tavern) and whatever the magazine picture was, that somehow becomes their focus. Maybe one of them hears a bird and they decide to trek to the swamp to look at it, or they look out the window and see a homeless child sleeping in the garbage and decide to bring him inside and buy him a meal, or they see a snow covered mountain in the distance and decide to hike to it, or they have just arrived in a town decimated by a typhoon. And from there, I just start writing at random, letting the character conversation take the lead.

Like I said, this style of plotless writing probably won't work for everyone, and it may not work well with every genre. And also, if you were aiming to make a career out of writing, this method is probably the exact opposite of what you should do. It works for me, because I just write for myself and self publish it, and if a few people like it, great, and if it never sells or makes money, well it's no big deal, because I had fun writing it and having fun while I write it is my own goal.

For me, it's fun to write this way, because it let's me do massive amounts of world building, and then just drop my characters into the world and use them as tools to explore every corner of the world. This method would work well for people like myself who spend hours world building and just want to explore the world after building it. But for someone looking to make a serious career of writing serious novels for the mainstream genre market, this method probably wouldn't work well for them.

^^^THAT^^^ is what you fucking ass retards are claiming is Erotica.

A vagabond, Elf wizard, hiking across the country, and blogging about the landscape. You called THAT Erotica, and than you killed my family because you convinced your fucking retarded mind that it's okay to kill the families of Erotica authors. But than I'm not even an Erotica author at all, so you murdered the wrong fucking family, you stupid dick heads!

Remember folks: 


   *   YOU thinking about sex while I talk, DOES NOT mean that I was talking about sex.


   *   YOU fantasizing about sex while you read, DOES NOT mean that I wrote a sex scene.


   *   YOU sexualizing things and jerking off to them, is NOT me writing titillation for you.


    *   YOU thinking about sex while reading a book I wrote, does NOT mean the book is Erotica, it just means that YOU are a fucking pervert capable of sexualizing anything and everything.


AND:


    *   YOU THINKING ABOUT SEX WHILE YOU READ A BOOK THAT I WROTE IS NOT AN EXCUSE YOU CAN USE TO GET AWAY WITH MURDERING MY FAMILY!

How is it, that peoples reading comprehension is so horrifically illiterately bad, that they mistake the Quaraun books as Erotica?

The thing you got to remember, the thing people who came here looking for sex, bdsm, and Erotica seem to be overlooking, is you can't write about something you know nothing about. So HOW does anyone expect me to even attempt to write a sex scene at all, is beyond me. Like all authors, I write what I know.

I know murder of children, and I know that no one cares about murdered children. I know saw up children stuffed into trash bags and tossed in ravines, and and I know that no one cares about those sawed up children, that's why their murders to this day walk free. I know suicide and no one cares about the 39 suicides I have witnessed, their swept under a rug and ignored. I know what it feels like to be years old, and held down by 2 uncles while a 3rd smashed a glass bottle and uses it to carvings in your flesh. 

People often ask, why I write my characters sleeping on piles hay and fur, why do they never sleep in a bed. Because I don't know what sleeping in a bed feels like. I've never been allowed to sleep in a bed. 

I write what I know.

I know what it feels to live for years on end, being allowed to have only 1 salted herring to eat, once every 12 days.

I know what it's like to be so skinny, that I couldn't stand up, because I was so close to death from starvation.

I write so many scenes of characters locked in cages because more them 80% of my life was spent locked in a cage. I don't know how to write about what life outside of rusted wires must be like. I've not been outside of a cage long enough to know. Even now in 2021, I'm still only learned how to eat daily. I've not yet been able to train my body into being able to eat every day. 

I'm still learning how to talk. Right now in 2021. I was 42 years old when the surgery to reconstruct my jaw happened. That was only 3 years ago. I've only been able to talk the last 3 years. I've not yet even fully learned how to speak.

Did you forget that all my YouTube videos and Twitch streams from 2004 until 3 years ago were completely silent with no commentary because I was unable to talk?

I'm not yet able to sit in chair or at tables or sleep on a bed, these things are so foreign to me, I can't even comprehend them.

I write what I know. That's why so many mute characters. I can't even begin to imagine what it is like to have a vocal conversation with someone face to face, because in nearly 50 years that's not yet happened to me. I only know what conversations look like from seeing them in movies. I've never experienced what it is like to have someone talk to me. No one ever has. So I don't how to write people talking to each other, that's why I don't write it. That's why characters in my novels, like Quaraun are often silent.

Quaraun has very little dialogue. Almost none. Even before he went mute Quaraun was a largely silent character. He is very scared, very shy, very quiet, keeps to himself, bothers no one, speaks only when necessary and, rarely is it nessacarily. He sits back and takes quiet a lot of abuse, always turning the other cheek and hoping in vain that his abusers will just go away and leave him alone. But he becomes very deadly when he witnesses someone else being bullied. He knows the pain and suffering he feels and he can not bare to watch others suffer as he has, so he protects them, by killing their attackers.

I've been writing about these characters for almost 50 years now.

And most of the stories are nothing more than me retelling the abuse I have received at the hands of others, along with what I would like to do to them, were it legal to kill bullies, haters, abusers, and harassers.

The scene of a child, with her leg ripped off, her intestines pulled out and her breakfast spilling on the ground... I wrote that with such vivid detail because I write what I know and I write from experience.

I was 14 years old, a serial killer named Lisa Boluc did that too her, yes, the Cascade Road Bloducs who would kill 5 more people in Old Orchard Beach in 2010... they had PREVIOUSLY kidnapped me and 5 other children in 1991. One of those children was a 4 year old named Anastasia and that's what they did to her. Her brother Jon, who was 3 years old, they turned his around completely, to face behind him. That's how he died. 

What did all have in common? We were all not white and were were all "retarded mutes" so they thought they could get away with torturing us children to death.

6 of us were kidnapped. 3 of us were still alive when the police rescued us. By the end of the week, I was the only one still alive, the others died from their injuries.

I wrote that scene in the novels with such vivid accuracy because that scene happened in real life to my friend.

And if you didn't know that THAT is the type of thing adults like to do to "retarded" "mute" children, that you need a reality check.

You only want to write mute characters because you want to be hip and cool and add diversity to your story, but you have no clue the hell we who are mute live through at the hands of ignorant bastards like you.

I write the abuse and torture and suicide scenes of the Quaraun series with such vivid detail, because they are ALL real live events that I have witnessed first hand in my personal life.

I've personally known 39 people who have commit suicide. That's WHY I write suicides so well.

The hanging tree scene in the Quaraun novels, that left Quaraun castrated and resulted in him killing his attackers... did you know I have an older brother, Roland, whom no one in my family will talk about? #1 because he's gay, and #2 because he's doing life in prison, after he locked 68 high schoolers into the Old Orchard Beach High School and burnt it to the ground, after those same 68 high schoolers, on homecoming night, striped him naked, tied his feet to the back of a police car, and drove 14 miles to Rotary Park in Biddeford, tied him to the flag pole, hosted him to the top and left him there to freeze to death in the dead of winter in Maine. The police found him 3 days later, and he killed his attackers the following year.

Yeah.

My parents, my aunts, my uncles, and pretty much every one in Old Orchard Beach, Maine completely shuns him because he had the balls to fight back and murder his fucking attackers.

This is the reality of how gay boys are treated in Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford, Maine.

He was 15 years old when he was sentenced to life n prison, without a fair trail, because the part about the 14 Old Orchard Beach police officers, their sons, and their son's friends, dragging him behind a police car a to Rotary Park and handing him by his testicles from a flag pole... was not entered into evidence, by the VERY police officers who did it to him

Yes.

Old Orchard Beach police officers did that to a 14 year old boy, and the CHILD that they tortured got life in prison, and those bastard Old Orchard Beach Police officers not only still walk free they are still active duty police officers right now in 2021.

I have an older brothers who has now been in prison going on 60 years, because police officers stripped him naked when he was 14 years old, tied his feet to the back of an Old Orchard Beach police car, a rather famous Old Orchard Beach Police car - a 1964 Dodge 330 - named Christine - yes, I bought that car, I still own it - and they drove all the way to Biddeford's Rotary Park. He was nearly dead by the time they huge him from the flagpole.

The World's Most Haunted Car the one my neighbour Stephen King made famous because he can't stop writing books and movies about it.


You stupid sex crazed idiots.

You thinking about sex, does not mean I'm doing anything with sex.

You thinking about sex when I talk, does not mean I'm talking about sex.

You thinking about sex when you read, does not mean I wrote about sex.

You having an erection while you read a murder scene in one of my novels, does not mean I wrote that murder scene to arouse you nor does t make that scene BDSM.

You having an erection while reading about a man being castrated in one of my novels, does not mean I'm a BDSM dominatrix.

Take your perverted fucked up head out of your ass, and take a look at reality for a change.

You have a sex addiction problem and you need help.

And just because you are a perverted jackass who puts sex, Erotica, and BDSM into everything you see, doesn't mean that I have anything to do with sex, BDSM, or Erotica.

A bomb blew up my house because you sex crazed jackasses couldn't stop spreading your fucking slanderous sex lies about me and my books.

My children were murdered because you sex crazed jackasses couldn't stop spreading your fucking slanderous sex lies about me and my books.

When does it end?

And sit back and laugh and your ha-ha sex jokes?

People are DEAD because of you!

Is it still FUNNY?

Remember folks: 


   *   YOU thinking about sex while I talk, DOES NOT mean that I was talking about sex.


   *   YOU fantasizing about sex while you read, DOES NOT mean that I wrote a sex scene.


   *   YOU sexualizing things and jerking off to them, is NOT me writing titillation for you.


    *   YOU thinking about sex while reading a book I wrote, does NOT mean the book is Erotica, it just means that YOU are a fucking pervert capable of sexualizing anything and everything.


AND:


    *   YOU THINKING ABOUT SEX WHILE YOU READ A BOOK THAT I WROTE IS NOT AN EXCUSE YOU CAN USE TO GET AWAY WITH MURDERING MY FAMILY!

The difference between me and other authors is the motivation behind why we write.

They write because they love hearing praise.

I write because I love my characters and would rather spend time with them, than Humans.

They desire Humans to kiss your ass.

I desire for Humans to die.

They can't exit without Humans glorifying them.

The longer I exist, the more I desire to kill every Human I meet.

They think humans are great and seek their approval.

I've yet to meet a good, kind, loving, moral, or decent Human. I've been beaten, raped, tortured, mutilated, crippled, starved, and caged by Humans.

They want Humans to put them on a pedestal.

I want Humans to die.

They bend to the whims of Human demands.

I fight back and shatter the teeth out of Humans with the very same bricks they used to break my jaw.

They live to be praised by Humans.

My family was murdered by Humans.

They are blind to the true nature of Humanity.

I've seen Humans for the vile creatures they really are.

They think Humans will love them.

I know Humans are completely incapable of love.

They write about Humans and their relationships in hopes of winning human praises.

I write Elves who eat Humans.

They write to gain human glory.

I write to have someone to talk to, even if it is just a fictional Elf and his equally fictional unicorn.

They desire humans to acknowledge them.

I know Humans aren't worth the feces they shit out.

Success or flop has never been a motivating factor for me.

Success via sales or money or good reviews, is dependant upon humans and humans are vile, despicable creatures whom I loath.

I don’t write for Humans.

I write for me.

When I was 8 years old, Humans locked me in a cage. I was beaten daily with a brick. A foundation nail was driven through my hip. I received one salt herring once every 12 days, I was considered “mute” because my jaw and teeth were shattered so badly that I could talk. When the FBI raid rescued me and let me out of the cage I was 31 years old and barely weighed 70lbs, had to be talk how to walk, bath, brush hair and teeth, and I was 42 years old when it was discovered that I was NOT mute, but rather needed surgery to reconstruct my jaw and suddenly I could talk.

Things like school, doctors, friends, kindness, hugs, TV, these were things I had never heard of and knew nothing about.

I was 37 years old the first time anyone ever told me I was a Human, and even now, I do not believe it.

Unlike Humans, I feel love and pain. I feel pity and compassion. And because of this, I KNOW I am not Humans, because Humans are incapable of feeling love. Humans are incapable of being kind. Humans are evil.

When I was put in a cage at 8 years old, I was told it was because I was a Demon, a Changeling. My uncles convinced my mother, herself a child, closer in age to me than most sisters are to each other, that her real child had been taken by Satan and killed and me, the Demon left in it’s place.

Teams of hundreds of psychiatrists and psychologists from all around the world gathered to study me. The feral child, the caged child, the child whom had never been hugged, the child who was never loved,

The news reporters called it The Worst Child Abuse Case In American History.

That child was me.

I write, because I have no friends and don’t fool myself into think there exists out there a Human capable of ever loving me enough to want to be friends with me.

And so I write about Elves. Lives who kill Humans. Elves who are my friends, because I have no one else. I write long conversations with the Elves, because I’ve no one else to talk to or with.

This is the difference between they and I.

They lust for human approval.

I vomit in disgust at the very thought of human existence.

They are a fool who await humans to love them.

I know Humans are incapable of any such thing.

They seek the glory and praise of reviews written by humans.

Humans have only praise and glory to themselves. Humans are selfish. Humans are evil. Humans are the bringers of pain. Humans exist only to kill, steal, and destroy. 

Humans will never love you.

Humans will only ever hurt you.

And so long as you are bound by your desire for Human praise, human glory, human written reviews, you will forever be their slave. You will never have freedom. You will always be looking to the next pat on the back, the next whisper of ego, and you'll never be free to write what you desire to write, because you'll always be groveling at human fee, waiting for their pitiful scraps. You can't stand on your own two feet. You require the crutch on other Humans.

Me on the other hand, I've learned from experience that the only good human is a dead human, for there are no good humans.

THIS is what makes me different from other authors. And why I don't write sex.

Other authors, have a drive a glut lust for sales. And they know humanity is evil and therefore sex sells. So what do they write? They write what they think they have to write to gain sales: sex. They write what they feel pressured by society to write.

Me? I don't give 2 shits what society wants.

You want sex? Well go fuck yourself then.

I don't care what you want.

I don't write for you.

Do you know I want? I want to know what happiness feels like. I've never felt that. I don't know what it feels like to be happy.

I want to know what it feels like to not be in pain. I don't know what it feels like to have a day without pain.

I want to know what it feels like to have a friend. I've never had a friend.

I want to know what it feels like to have interaction with a person, who does not hit you with bricks, or golf clubs, or waves guns in your face. 

I want to know what kindness feels like. I've never experienced kindness. 

I don’t care about genre.

I don’t care about marketing.

I don’t care about sales.

I don’t care about money.

I don’t care about praise.

I don’t care about reviews.

I don’t care if any one reads it.

None of these things motivates me.

All of those things are bonuses if they happen, but as they rely on Humans to happen, I do not expect them.

Even publication does not motivate me to write.

My motivation has come and gone long before the story is even published.

Companionship is my motivation.

I have no one to talk to.

I have no one to spend time with.

I have no one to love.

I am incredibly, unimaginably lonely.

I desire to have someone to talk to.

I desire to have someone to spend time with me.

I desire someone to love.

But I am unloved. Unwanted. Alone.

No human accepts me as part of their society.

No human has ever been my friend.

No human has ever wanted to talk to me.

I am motivated to write, friends.

I can find no one like me.

I live in a world filled with vile, evil, hateful Humans.

I appear to either be the last of my kind or the only one of my kind that ever was.

I am alone and surrounded by billions of Humans who hate every fibre of my soul and seek only to kill every pet I have, to destroy everything I own, Humans do nothing but kill, steal, and destroy, and so as they have hated me, so too do I now hate them.

I write, to create others like myself.

I write, to create friends to talk to.

I do not write to cater to readers.

I do not write to fit into a genre.

I write because I have no one to talk to.

I write to create someone who is willing to be my friend.

I write to create someone who is willing to talk to me.

This is why my novels are near entirely dialogue with almost no narration at all.

This is why my novels have no definable genre.

This is why my novels contain no action. No adventure. Just one character talking for 500 pages.

Most volumes I write fall into what many would call failures while very few have ever reached anything close to what most would call success. And this does not bother me, because those things neither motivate nor demotivate me.

I know every Human hates me and therefore I am never motivated by anything humans do.

Success in any has never spurred me to write more like it, I have a volume that won international awards, rave reviews, sold 10,000 copies within an hour of it's release. People want more like it, but, sales, awards, rave reviews, requests for more, none of that motivates me to to do more like it. 

While failures have never inspired me to avoid write more like it. I have several books that never even sold 100 copies, and have many bad reviews, and people send me hate mail over them telling me not to write more like them, and what do I do? Write 5 more just like it.

I don't write for YOU.

Yes, I know every one says to write for the reader, write for the market. 

To hell with the readers.

To hell with the market.

Why should I care about readers? Do reader care about me? No. When push come to shove, they don't give a shit about me.

Why should care about the market? The market is fickle, just like readers. Trends and fads come and go. 

The thing is, I’ve never been inspired by bowing to the will of others. And I've got lots of scars and broken bones to prove it.

And what MOST people classify as success, I classify as you being castrated, stripped of your balls and your dignity, forced to grovel in hopes of favor from another.

What are you?

A man?

Or a dog?

I find myself utterly disgusted by what most people think of as success, and by what you clearly see as success.

Why do you need the approval of others to move forward?

Because you have no self worth.

You lack confidence in yourself so you rely on others to pat you on the back.

I suppose that is an advantage of having spent 27 years of my life, including my entire childhood, teen years, and young adult years locked too small for most dogs to fit in. Than again, that's what makes it so utterly ridiculous what this Kendra woman has done, considering how it's not possible for me to have been the bully who bullied her in school, when I not only never went to school, I was locked up in a cage!

I survived because I had strong will and self worth.

I was only 8 years old when I accepted the fact that nothing I ever did was ever going to please anyone, and if I didn't please myself, well than I'd never please any one. And that is why I write what I want to read, not what YOU want to read.

And that is why I do not write sex, even though you came here looking for sex.

So you authors who write about sex, to gain praise from strangers. To what end? As soon as the next fad comes in they'll forget you.

You pampered little fool. Nothing but a weak little pussy.

YOU wouldn't last a week, in the living conditions I lived in for 27 years.

Even prisoners had better living conditions than I had.

And all you care about it sex.

Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex!

Your obsession with sex is why I grew up like I did. Because men like you had to get their jollies by raping children.

Think about it.

If sex crazy people like you didn't exist, men like my uncles wouldn't keep little girls in cages.

If sex crazy people like you did not exist, authors wouldn't feel compelled to fill their stories with sex.

The world has so many stories that contain not a shred of sex.

Edgar Alan Poe never wrote sex.

Robert Louis Stevenson never wrote sex.

Charles Dickens never wrote sex.

Barbara Cartland, the queen of Romance, never wrote sex.

There are millions of novels, by millions of authors, that contain no sex.

And guess what, gay characters can exist without sex.

The fact that your brain defaults to gay couple = erotica, says more about your and your own perverted mind, than it does anything else.

Talk about over reaction! You saw a nude wizard in a book so you murdered the author's family?

What is wrong with you fucked up pieces of shit?

Nudity exists outside of Erotica. 

Sex exists outside of Erotica.

Yelling FUCK when you hammer your finger instead of a nail, is not Erotica.

And if you didn't know that, well... you got some growing up to do. 

Do you take your clothes off in the shower? Yes? My, my, my, than by YOUR logic, YOU are an Erotica BDSM Porn Star Dominatrix, because YOU bathe nude.

Grow up you fucking retard.

Yes, there is nudity in the Quaraun books. A LOT of nudity. But that doesn't make it Erotica.

Yes, there are sexual scenes in the Quaraun books and once in a while a sex scene... 21 of them. There are 21 sex scenes in 138 novels and 2,000 short stories. And that certainly doesn't make it Erotica.

Yes there is a LOT of swearing and crude language in the Quaraun books. But that doesn't make them Erotica.

Grow up, take your head out of your ass, and go find out what REAL Eroica is.


The reality is the car is not haunted. Police officers of Old Orchard Beach, just want to everyone to think it's haunted, because they made active attempt to destroy every last piece of evidence for what they did to my brother. And they NEEDED to destroy the police car they tied him to and dragged him from, but they couldn't because I bought it.

Stephen King was their worst nightmare, because he made the car famous by writing about it. And than he made ME famous by writing about me. I'm the real world Gypsy Witch, that he based his fictional Thinner Gypsy Witch off of, and then he filmed Thinner on my land.

And life for me has been a nightmare ever since, because those officers live in terror that someone will find evidence of what they did. That someone will find my brother and talk to him and finally get his side of the story.

They put him in a prison outside of Maine, and they REFUSE to tell me where he is, so I've never once been able to visit him.

That is how horrible police officer in our town are. 

That's how far they would go to cover up what they did.

And that why they attacked so viciously when The Hanging Tree was published... it was published March 31, 2015, they attacked and killed my family April 10, 2015, a little over a week later.

The same 14 police officers.

Welcome to Old Orchard Beach, Maine.

He almost died, and those police officers have NEVER been held accountable for what they did.

How many police officers were in my driveway April 10, 2015?

How many police officer beat my children and murdered them? April 10, 2015?

14.

The EXACT SAME 14 police officers who did that to my older brother.

They didn't get held account able for what they did to my brother 60 years ago, and they have not been held accountable for what they did to my children 6 years ago.

Welcome to law enforcement in Old Orchard Beach, Maine.

How many people know the Old Orchard Beach High School burnt down?

Not many.

They rebuilt it fast and it wasn't in the news.

Of those people who knew it happened, how many of you knew it was my older brother who did it?

Of those who knew he did it, how many knew, he was the boy - the gay boy, a 14 year old child, who arrived at homecoming wearing pink... and was was beaten and nearly by Old Orchard Beach police officers because he wore pink?

He acted in self defence against murderous minded gay hating police, and the police doctored evidence, and he's been in prison, 60 years now, for nothing, other than being gay?

This is wrong.

And you know it's wrong.

Those police officers are the ones who should be in prison.

My children would still be alive if those officers had been handed justice in the 1960s.

The exact same police officers.

THAT is the REAL reason people in Old Orchard Beach hate that car. They know what happened. They know why I keep that car. To remind them, that it's not forgotten, what they did, to my older brother.

That's why they made up lies about the car being haunted.

It's not haunted it never was, just like I've been saying all along.

The only people who want you to think that car is haunted are the people who used that car to destroy the life of a gay child.

They want you to believe the car is haunted, so you'll forget what they did with it.<