"You know," the Swamp Hag said to the ancient Elf. "For someone who claims to not show emotions, you seem to have a lot of pent up anger towards certain Humans. Isn't that you showing emotions?"

"We do not show our emotions with mindless, simpleton frivolity, the way you retarded American white Humans do. Nor do we waste precious time telling jokes and lies."

"You know people call you Arabs terrorists for a reason, don't you. You can't go around saying things like that."

"Like what? Praising a none Christian god while we slit your filthy, vile, immoral American throats? I'm not a murderer or a terrorist, Ghirardelli. I'm a Di'Jinn Priest cleaning up the world of sex crazed immoral filth. If that means I have to kill every last white American Human to clean up this world and make it a decent, moral place worth living in again, than so be it. You kill my people on command by your Christian god, and my god tells me to protect my people from your god's immoral, sex crazed, child raping Christian army. If me doing the will of my god makes me a terrorist, what than are YOU, doing the will of your god, when your god tells you to invade my country and kill my people. My family is dead at the hands of your god's Christian followers, Ghirardelli. It IS my duty to execute every last person involved in murdering my family. I will see you all dead. Even you, Ghirardelli."

Quaraun paused, picked up his teacup and stared into it without taking a drink or saying a word. He stirred the tea, intently staring into the liquid less bottom of the whirlpool his stirring created. He sighed knowingly, then set the cup back down and continued talking, as he got up and returned back to the door of the tent.

"Nor are we sneaky, like you white American Humans. You knew I was a Di'Jinn before you came here didn't you?"

"No. . ."

Quaraun spun around and stood on tip toe to be able to look the woman in the eye.

"Don't lie to me madame. You worded that wish on purpose to get me away from the table."

"I didn't. . ." Ghirardelli stammered.

"You did."

"You are very short, aren't you?"

"Stop telling me what I already know."

"Well, you are. I'm not even tall and you barely come up to my shoulder. You're tiny."

"I am short. I know I am short. I don't need to be reminded that I'm shorter that everyone around me. Stop changing the subject. What did you put in my drink?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Who sent you here?"

"No one."

"Don't lie to me, you filthy white American scumbag." Quaraun pulled out his dagger and pointed it at the old woman's face.

"I'm not."

"I'm not someone you want to cross, madame," Quaraun snarled through his teeth. "Finderu sent you didn't he?"

"No one sent me."

Ghirardelli backed away from Quaraun, looking around for a way to escape. The angry little Elf stood between her and the door of the tent, and small though he may be, he seemed fierce.

Vicious even.

She suspected that given the right mood, he could become violent. Was he not, after all rumoured to be the most deadly serial killer to ever walk the face of the earth? Every nation feared the very thought of Quaraun the Insane, precisely because of his extremely violent nature and the fact that he had killed so many people. And he didn't kill with magic.

No.

Though billed the world's most powerful mage, Quaraun was said to rarely ever use magic at all. He killed with the ruby hilted dagger that hung from his belt. Quaraun liked to get close to his victims, hold them tight against him, while he slit their throats, so he could feel the life drain from their bodies.

It was not for Quaraun's use of magic that people feared him, it was instead for his deadly skill at wielding the Elf Eater's dagger, which struck fear into the hearts of every man, woman, and child.

Ghirardelli felt that fear now, as she stared into the cold, lifeless icy-white-blue eyes, with the red veined pink pupils.

Quaraun's corpse like eyes terrified Ghirardelli most of all. There was no emotion in them.

No glint of life.

No twinkle.

No gleam.

They were the lifeless eyes of a dead Elf.

And was that not, what Quaraun was rumoured to be? Not just a Necromancer, but also, an Elf soul bound to a Lich, and himself turning into a Lich because of it.

Immortal.

Lifeless.

Not dead. But not alive either.

Undefeatable, because, he could not be killed, because he was already dead. An Elf, centuries older than any Elf had ever lived, because he was an Elf who could never die.

A male Elf, whose male lover had been ripped apart by an angry mob, centuries ago, surviving only a few days before killing himself to end the agonizing suffering he'd been left in.

An Elf, who had devoted his life to hunting down, not only every last person in the mob, but also their children, their grandchildren, their great-grand children. . .. every last relative he could find. Annihilate the entire bloodline of the people responsible for The Hanging Tree.

Ghirardelli was one of those people. She knew this. The Elf Eater had died nearly a thousand years ago, and someone in her ancestry had been there at The Hanging Tree. For centuries members of her family had been hunted by this Elf, The Pink Necromancer, Quaraun the Insane, who killed hundreds of her relatives, across hundreds of years, and was now standing face to face with her.

Ghirardelli had heard this rumour many times before. The rumour that Quaraun could not be caught, could not be stopped, could not be imprisoned, could not be killed, because he had long ago, transformed into a lich and was now the living dead.

She had never believed this rumour, but now, looking into the icy dead eyes of the necromancer himself, Ghirardelli had no doubt in her mind that the rumours were true. That Quaraun was dead. The Pink Necromancer was a wraith of some sort. A wraith with a physical body. A strange, new type of lich, something, not quite dead, but, not quite alive either.

"You tried to poison me," Quaraun said, his voice now lowered to a rabid, dog-like growl.

"No. . ." Ghirardelli.

"Do you really think you can kill me, madame?"

"I don't. . ."

"I can't die. I am immortal. I am soul bound to a lich. I am his phylactery. He lives in me. He and I are one being now. Two souls in one body. Your poison has no effect on me."

"I didn't. . ."

"You are devious and underhanded," Quaraun said in a derogatory and mockingly indirect way.

"I am neither devious nor underhanded."

"Yes. You are."

"Why would you say that?"

"You KNEW I was a wish granting wizard. You knew that before you came here. You WROTE this wanted poster of me, and that is exactly how you described me. You made that wish on purpose, because you wanted to see what would happen."

"I'm not trying to upset you. . ."

"Why? Scared I'll do to you what I did to Gibedon?" Quaraun pulled Gibedon's head from his bag as he spoke. "Poooooor Gibedon. Poor, poor, sweet Gibedon. He done gone and lost his head. THIS is what I think of The Guild, Ghirardelli!"

Quaraun shook the dead mage's head in Ghirardelli's face.

"Gibedon thought he could beat me. Gibedon tried to fight me. Gibedon tried to kill me. Don't make Gibedon's mistakes, Ghirardelli. I have no qualms about adding your head next to his."

"I wasn't trying too. . ."

Quaraun shoved Gibedon's head back in his bag, pushed passed Ghirardelli, nearly knocking her over as he did, and stormed back to the far side of his tent, leaving Ghirardelli, standing alone near the door.

She contemplated making a run for it, while the old wizard rummaged around in his boiling pots, but than thought better of it.

This was after all, The Pink Necromancer himself, Quaraun the Insane. Most feared and most powerful mage of all time. Defeating him, capturing him, killing him, any one of those things would land her the respect of the wizarding community, and she wanted that. She wanted that a lot.

Gingerly, Ghirardelli crossed the tent, to stand beside Quaraun and watch him work.

"What are you doing?" Ghirardelli asked the old pink robed Elf.

"Too stupid to leave?"

"What?"

"I gave you a chance to leave. Go. I don't feel like killing any one today. Go. I'll find you and kill you later."

"You're the greatest wizard of all time."

"So everyone tells me."

"I could learn something from you."

"Really? What could a white magic, goody-two-shoes Guild member who sucks up to Finderu ever expect to learn from me, the closest thing to the boogie man there is?"

"I don't know. You were talking about helping people."

"Hhhhmm. Helping people is what I prefer to do."

"But you're a murderer. How do you justify that?"

"I only kill in self defence. Attack me and I'll lop your head off. Simple as that. Leave me in peace and I'll let you live. You send your little groups of adventures on a quest to defeat big bad mega boss super villain me and I'll explode the lot of them into dust, then resurrect them as nzambies to do my bidding. So, all you are doing is building my army a little bit more, every time you try to kill me."

Quaraun pulled out a map, folded it out onto the table and set about to eyeing it with a compass.

"What are you doing now?"

"Looking for BoomFuzzy," Quaraun answered without looking up at the woman.

"I thought you said he was dead?"

"He is. He's a lich."

"And you don't know where he is?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"I lost him. He got out of his bottle and ran away. Now I'm trying to find him. Hunting liches is never easy. But according to this map, he's nearby."

"According to this map? How can a map. . ."

"This is The Elf Eater's Enchanted Map."

"And?"

"And this is why I hate women."

"What do you mean?" Ghirardelli asked. "What does any of this have to do with you hating women?"

"Women have an annoying need to fill every minute of the day with annoying excessive prattle."

"I do not prattle!"

"No? You have stopped prattling since you barged into my tent uninvited."

"Men were chasing me. . ."

"Will they seem to be gone now, so there is no reason for you to still be here, now is there?"

"But. . . well. . . it's not every day someone gets to talk to Quaraun the Insane, is it?"

"No. And I'm not insane, so stop calling me that."

"Everyone calls you that."

"I can't choose what idiots of the world call me? But I can kick you out of my tent if you don't stop calling me that."

"Tell me about your map."

"Why?"

"Something to do?"

"Why does your needing something do equate to me needing to talk?"

"What's wrong with talking?"

"Nothing, when I have someone intelligent to talk to."

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"Yes."

"Why are you so mean?"

"Why?" The immensely unhappy Elf looked up at the women. "Probably because not one single solitary person has ever been kind to me, not once in my entire life. Other than BoomFuzzy and you all decided to kill him for it. So I don't have any reason to be anything other than mean to all of you."

"I didn't kill your lover. You don't have to take out all your aggression on me."

"No?"

"No. I'm trying to be civil to you and you act like you're ready to bite my head off for no reason, whatsoever."

"No reason whatsoever?"

"No!" Ghirardelli insisted. "None!"

"Madame, you have an odd definition of no reason whatsoever."

"What reason do you have for not being civil to me?"

"I WAS civil to you. I let you stay here out of the rain and served you tea. There is not one Human back in that town down there who would have done so much. They all want you dead."

"And you're being hostile now."

"Am I?"

"Yes. Listen to the tone in your voice. You've become very aggressive."

"Have I not reason to be?"

"No."

"No?"

"By what logic do you say that?"

"By the logic I haven't done anything. By the logic you are nothing but a grouchy old man, with a bone to pick with everyone. You hate the world. You hate society. When was the last time you were even part of society?"

"Society cast me out. I'm not welcomed in society. Every time I try to be part of society, I get bullied, harassed. teased, lynched, dragged behind horses, and hung in trees."

"Not everyone is like that."

"No?"

"You jut have to find the right society, is all."

"Oh, that's all is it? And WHERE do you suggest I do that? I've spent the last nine hundred years looking for a place to settle down. That what I HAVE been doing. There is not a country on this planet that I have not visited. All seven continents. Hundreds of countries. Thousands of cities. And it's the same thing every where I go. You fucking Humans are all alike. Bigoted. Prejudiced. Racist assed pricks."

"You should try living with non-Humans. . ."

"I did that. I used to do that. But where do you suggest I find any non-Humans these days? Hmmm? The Humans killed them all. You bastards killed the Dwarves and the Gnomes and the Elves and the Unicorns and the Trolls and the Hal-flings and the Merrows and and Dryads and the Demons and the Faeries. There are no non-Humans left. You jackasses slaughter everything you see. Even each other! Look at the wars!"

"There's always wars. . ." Ghirardelli pointed out.

"Exactly. Humans slaughtering Humans, for no reason at all other than you just can't get enough bloodshed. You creatures are the vilest filth ever to walk the face of the Earth."

"Most would say that Demons were. . ."

"More evil than Humans? Bah. Nothing is more evil that Humans."

Quaraun waved his hand in the air, indicating he didn't want to hear anything else, then returned to examining his map. After a few moments he began sputtering to himself, more raving than anything else.

"I'm sick of it. I'm sick of tending stab wounds and mending broken bones. I'm sick of fractures and split lips. There isn't a bone in my body that hasn't been broken more than once. I'm covered in scars. And for what? For nothing. Absolutely nothing. I stay in my house and mind my own business, and jackass busybodies gather in hoards, chatting Bible verses, praising the Lord, calling me a witch, and burn my house to the ground with me in it. Why? Because I had a male lover, that's why. No other reason. Not one damned other reason. Well, they can all burn in hell."

"People don't understand you, because you're a hermit."

"As are you, madame. And look at how they treat you. You of all people should know what my life is like. They do the same damned fucking thing to you."

"Mages are a dying breed. Even Human mages like me are rare these days."

"And you're okay with that?"

"No. But wat can we do?"

"We can rise up and fight back. That's what we ca do."

"You and what army? You really want to take on the entire Human race?"

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"I'm a necromancer."

"I don't see how that is going to be very useful in fighting society," Ghirardelli said.

"It'd take me meer minutes to resurrect every dead corpse on the planet. Tens of billions of Humans, non-Humans, birds, plants, animals, fish, trees. You think the world could stop me if I really set out to wipe the Humans off the face of the Earth?"

"I think, you are more insane than the rumours say you are."

"And I think you have overstayed your welcome."

"You want me to leave?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why? WHY? You made a frivolous wish, for something stupidly idiotic, just to see what would happen, and get me away from the table, so you could spike my tea with poison. You tried to kill me, not five minutes ago, and now you expect me to be civil to you? I ought to wring your neck is what I ought to do. I WAS being civil to you and you muffed it. Now get out of my tent."

"What if I don't leave?"

"I said get out!"

"Make me."

"I hate women."

"You said that."

"Yes, and you are reminding me why I hate them so much."

"You're not going to make me leave are you?"

"Why must I?"

"It's raining out there. Would you really send a poor old women out in the rain by her lonesome?"

"You are annoying me."

"I don't think you are mean enough to throw me out into the rain."

"You're right. I'm not."

"So, now what?"

"How about, you sit down, shut up. drink your poisoned tea, and let me get some work down. I have places to go and liches to build and you are interrupting me doing both."

"It that what the map does?"

"What?"

"The Elf Eater's map. You said it was enchanted."

"Yes. I did. It is."

"So, tell me about it."

"I have no reason to tell you about anything."

"What if I could help you?"

"You don't even know what I'm doing."

"Well, tell me what you are doing so I can tell you if I can help you."

"Did I ask for your help?"

"No. But. . ."

"Than stop offering it."

"Why?"

"Because you are a female and I hate females. And you are a Human and I hate Humans."

"I don't think you hate either," Ghirardelli stated.

"Really? How did you come to that conclusion?"

"By the fact that you haven't done anything to throw me out of your tent yet. I think you are lonely and want company and are going to let me stay here for as long as I want, just so you don't have to be by yourself."

"You're not going to leave are you?"

"Nope. So you might as well tell me about that map of yours."

"It's not my map, it's The Elf Eater's map."

"Okay. So what does it do?"

"It leads any one carrying it to his location."

"I thought he was dead?"

"He is."

"Well, don't you know where he's buried? You were with him when he died, weren't you? Isn't that what people say?"

"He wasn't buried."

"Why not?"

"I put him in a bottle, for resurrecting later."

"Resurrecting? The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley?"

"Yes."

"You're going to resurrect him?"

"Yes. I am currently in the process of resurrecting him, right now. That is precisely why I have come here to Pepper Valley."

"But, isn't the Elf Eater the leader of The Lich Lords?"

"No."

"He's not?"

"No."

"Who is then, if not The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, who then, huh?"

"You silly Human, I am the leader of the Lich Lords."

"You are?"

"Yes. I am the necromancer who built them. Do you not remember who I am?"

"So you command liches?"

"Of course. I am a necromancer, remember? The Pink Necromancer? I am the one who builds all the many vast armies of liches? I thought you knew all about me?"

"But still, I thought, at least I've always heard, well, isn't the Elf Eater already a Lich?"

"Yes. And also no. You see, he is a normal lich. Meaning that he possesses merely a not solid, incorporeal, ghostly wraith form. He has no physical body."

"And you want to change that?"

"Yes."

"Why would anyone in their right mind want to do such a horrible thing?"

"We are lovers, he and I."

"Are? Not were?"

"Yes. Are, not were. It is considerably challenging to conduct a visceral liaison with someone who is not in possession of a visceral body."

"Oh. Yes. I can see how something like that would be a problem." Ghirardelli wondered what visceral meant, but she dared not ask Quaraun the meaning of his words, for fear of angering him.

"This is especially problematic for a chef, who is more in love with food than he is anything else."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"Who's a chef?"

"BoomFuzzy."

"Oh."

"You have no clue about anything I'm saying to you, do you?"

"Kind of. No. Not really."

"Liches can't eat food and BoomFuzzy was a chef who devoted his life to endless food. It is absolute, eternal hell for him to live without a physical body, that can not consume food. So I built him a golem."

"A golem? What's that?"

"You don't know what a golem is?"

"No."

"Really?" Quaraun's suspicions were on the rise now,, as he had only moments ago shown her the Unicorn ice golem.

"Why would I know what a golem is?"

"A golem," Quaraun explained. "Is an effigy that can be brought to life, a physical body that he can possess. But now I have to find him, to put his wraith body into the golem, so he can live a normal life again."

"So, you are trying to bring The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley back to life?"

"Yes. I already told you that a little while ago."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"What do you mean, why not?" In her mind, Ghirardelli could not think of a more horrible thought than the idea that someone was attempting to resurrect The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

"We are lovers. I still love him. He still loves me. We seek to be reunited with one another."

"But. . . how. . . how can you love someone like

like

well, like him?"

"You seem to think him not deserving of love."

"No. A man like him. Murderer. Rapist. How can you stand him?"

"He was my friend. And to me, he was nothing but kindness. I know the world hates him and rejoices in his death, saying he was evil, but I never saw that side of him. The world saw him in a very different light than I did."

"I'll say. He's the most evilest evil of all evils to ever exist."

"I thought you said that title belonged to me."

"No. You are the evilest evil currently alive?"

"You consider me to be alive? How droll."

"Aren't you?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. Quaraun, the Elf, he died some nine hundred or so years ago."

"Uhm. . . but you are, standing right here in front of me."

"What? You mean this Elf body? Oh. No. I have no idea what this Elf's name was. I am the Sacred Pink Jelly Fish."

"The Sacred. . . wait. . . the Thullid Elder God?"

"Yes. The Thullid Elder Brain. I ate this Elf's brain centuries ago, to make room in his skull for me to live in it. I animate his corpse and walk among you, the imposter that I am. Used to blend in back when Elves were everywhere, but now that Elves are extinct, I stick out like a sore thumb. Logic would dictate that I get myself a new host to live in, retire this body, but look at him. He was beautiful."

"I'm confused."

"The only problem with this body is every one wants to have sex with it and we Thullids did away with the need for sex millennium ago. I do get so tired of how sex crazed you Humans are. Elves at least showed some restraint. But you Humans just want to fuck everything that moves, wither it wants to be fucked by you or not. Rape. Rape. Rape. Rape. Rape. It's all your Human men ever put any effort into doing. You creatures are so disgusting."

"I'm sorry. . . are you an Elf or a Thullid?"

"Both. I'm a Thullid living in the reanimated corpse of a dead Elf's body."

"And you're a lich?" Ghirardelli asked.

"No," Quaraun answered, sounding deeply annoyed.

"Than why do people say that you are?"

"Because people are stupid."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Quaraun sighed. This woman was annoying him to no end.

"I'm soul bound to a lich."

"Why would you bind your soul to a lich?"

"I didn't."

"But you said. . ."

"I said I am soul bound to a lich, not that I bound my soul to a lich."

"How is it different?"

"He wasn't a lich when we bound our souls together."

"Oh. So. . . How does one become soul bound to a lich?"

"We cut our souls in half, back while he was still alive."

"Is cutting souls in half even possible?"

"Yes. Obviously. We did it, didn't we?"

"I don't know."

"Well we did. Half his soul is in my body and half my soul is in his body. And than decades later when he commit suicide in a lich making ritual, the spell didn't work because he wasn't in possession of both halves of his soul. Now I am half lich and he is stuck in between lich and dead. I'm trying to correct that. Make him into the lich he wanted to be, and free myself of becoming a lich with him."

"So you're a lich hunter?"

"Sort of."

"So, if you're a Necromancer, than, what was all that earlier with the cats and dogs falling out of the sky? What's that go to do with necromancy."

"Before I became a necromancer I was a Di'Jinn. A wish granting wizard. Somehow, the spell BoomFuzzy did, that caused me to become part lich, also caused me to have an unexplained energy field around me, that causes wishes to happen exactly as people word them. So when you wished for raining cats and dogs, the hurricane outside, stopped raining water on us and started raining cats and dogs on us."

"That's not possible."

"It most certainly is. You saw it with your own eyes."

"It had to be an illusion," Ghirardelli insisted.

"Why has it to be?"

"Or a hallucination, maybe."

"I assure you madame, it was real."

"You can't grant wishes like that. That's just stuff from fairy tales."

"Just because you Humans are incapable of telling the truth on any level whatsoever, does not mean that this is a problem, I myself have. You seem to have forgotten that I am not Human. We Elves neither think nor act in the same you do, so do not expect us to. Your degraded, immoral, barbaric culture leaves you crude and lacking in any level of dignity or self respect. Do not expect me to devolve myself to your levels of evolutionary stupidity."

"Yeah, well, okay, but you were acting like wish granting was real. I mean, come on."

"You do not believe in wishes?" Quaraun mocked being horrified.

"Do you?"

"I am Quaraun. The Pink Necromancer. I am a wizard of the Di'Jinn Order. Granting wishes is what we do." Quaraun picked up his teacup again and stared at it than set it back down again. "But of course you knew that."

"Oh. Like, really?"

"Yes. Really."

"For real?"

"Yes."

"You grant wishes?"

"Yes."

"But aren't you a Necromancer?"

"I am."

"So, how exactly does granting wishes mix with being a Necromancer?"

"Not well, I'm afraid. We are lucky it was normal cats and dogs just now."

"Are there any other types?"

"Yes. It could have been Zombie cats and Vampire dogs."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Thus why I recommend you get better at guarding your words and thinking more carefully before you speak."

"So, like how you make food appear out of thin air?"

"Yes. Exactly that."

"So you are saying that, the energy around you, is so powerfully effected by you, that is I wish for something, that something will just appear, without you even doing anything to make it appear?"

"Yes."

"And not only that, but, because you are a necromancer, things that appear out of nowhere around you, end up being undead?"

"Yes."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"Well, not most Humans, no. But, you? Yes."

"Why me? Why would you possibly think that I am any different from anyone else who would call this nonsense all smoke and mirrors?"

"I don't know, maybe I thought that because you came in here to disturb my sleep with some cock and bull story about men chasing you for a cursed sword? P.S.: Your sword shouldn't be talking to you. If it does, please return it to the store immediately for a refund or replace it. I'll take it off your hands if you don't want it. I could find uses for a soul eating sword that talks."

"It's supposed to talk," Ghirardelli said, trying to sound calmer than she felt and hoping the old wizard did not sense how scared she was of him.

"Really?"

"It's a cursed sword."

"Like a cursed box."

"What?"

"I locked my memories into a memory box," Quaraun pulled said box out of his bag of holding and showed it to her. The little glass vials tickled around inside it.

"And you threw away the key," Ghirardelli said, anticipating the end of his sentence.

"No." Quaraun stared at her, perplexed. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know."

"You are a very strange woman."

"You are a very strange man."

"I'm not a man. I'm an Elf."

"Okay. Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

"No. Not whatever. It is what IS. I am most certainly not a man, I am an Elf. Pure-blooded. A rare thing these days. Feels like ninety percent of the Elves I meet any more are half-Elves or quarter-Elves or less."

"Quarter-Elves? Is that a thing?"

"Yes. If you have Elf blood, no matter how little there may be, you still classify as an Elf and Elves would be not so arrogant as to hate the mongrels will always welcome anyone with even minimal Elf blood into their home."

"So, not you."

"How do you mean?"

"You're one of those arrogant hoity-toities what is too pure blooded to help a half-Elf."

"Too arrogant? Me? I'm not arrogant at all!"

Ghirardelli stifled a laugh. "Not arrogant? You!"

"Do you think I am?"

"Well, yeah."

"I assure you I am not. Clearly you've never met an Elf before."

"Nope. I have not. You are the first. Elves are rather rare you know."

"I am outcast by my people. Shunned. Do you know why? I had a non-Elf lover."

"Really?"

"Yes. We already established that."

"Did we?"

"I'm The Elf Eater's lover."

"So?"

"Do you not know what the Elf Eater was?"

"A psychotic madman, from everything I ever heard."

"A psychotic madman? How dare you."

"You think otherwise?"

"Of course I do. I knew him. I lived with him. I loved him. I still love him. He was my friend. I miss him."

"And you say he wasn't an Elf?"

"No. He was not."

"What was he?"

"A Faerie."

"A Faerie can mean a lot. What exactly do you mean, when you say Faerie? There are like a few thousand types of Faeries aren't there?"

"Yes. There are."

"So?"

"So? What?"

"So what type of Faeries was he?"

"The Elf Eater?"

"Yes!"

"A Phooka. And half-Human."

"Half Human? The Elf Eater was a Human?"

"I didn't know that."

"Few people do. I don't think he ever told any one outside of me and Gibedon."

"Yes. And not white."

"Really?" Ghirardelli asked. "Does that matter?"

"In Human society? Yes. You white Humans are racist pricks who hate ever black, brown, red, yellow, grey, blue person you see. Death to all none whites is ever your battle cry. He was black and Asian combined. It made him doubly evil in your piss ant white dominated society."

"You don't like white people."

"No. White people are fine. I don't like white HUMANS. That's different. But than, it's white Human religion that is the problem."

"How so?"

"Elves got a hold of a Christian Bible and it corrupted Elf society. Elves started using it's teaches as an excuse to kill all non-whites, the same way Humans did. Before long, most black or brown skinned Elves had been killed by white skinned Elves, simply because that's what the Bible god says to do in his Bible."

"So, white Elves started acting like white Humans?"

"Yes. And it became worse, when they found out I was with BoomFuzzy."

"Why?"

"He was not only a male, and not an Elf, but he was also an Asian with black skin."

"Asian and black? And half-Human to boot?"

"Yes."

"How's that happen?"

"His father was black, half-Welsh-Phooka, half-Dahomey-Human and mother was half-Human-quarter-Mongolian-quarter-Japanese, and half-Aswag. So he was a black Asian, Welsh, Human, Aswag, Phooka mix."

"Aswag? What's that?"

"a type of Faerie from South Pacific. Basically a shape-shifter that likes to terrorize horney teen aged boys by turning into a disembodied head with a giant pair of boobs hanging off her back."

"Wait. . . you mean a hag?"

"Yes."

"An actual Hag?"

"Yes."

"Like wat people around here accuse me of being?"

"Yes. Exactly that."

"You know, I've never seen a real Hag before."

"Yes. They are kind of rare."

"So, the Elf Eater was, a little bit of each of a lot of different things, than, right?"

"Yes. And it made him mean."

"Why?"

"Because no one accepted him."

"There had to be a reason."

"No. There wasn't. Outside of racism, there was no reason why anyone ever did anything to him."

"Well, from what I know of The Elf Eater, he was a warrior who crowned himself king and went on a mass murdering spread across the globe, conquering nations, raping everyone, razed villages, burned everything to the ground, and he didn't make any distinction of who should live or die, because he just killed every man, woman, and child or every race, nation, species, and creed. He killed for the fun of it, because he liked to watch people suffer. He was pure evil."

"BoomFuzzy was not evil," Quaraun interrupted her. "The man I knew was very kind and gentle. He had more compassion than the average Human."

"That's not how everyone describes him," Ghirardelli insisted. "The Elf Eater was a cold, heartless killer. Anyone who crossed his path was brutally murdered, ripped apart, raped to death, than eaten. He was a total monster in the truest form of the word."

"BoomFuzzy was not a monster."

"Do you deny that he did those things?"

"If he did those things, than he did them before I met him, because he never did anything like that while we were living together. And I knew him better than anyone."

"So you are saying he wasn't a murdering, serial rapist, cannibal, like everyone says he was?"

Quaraun shook his head. "No. I didn't say he didn't do those things. I said I never saw him do those things, and he wasn't doing stuff like that while we were living together. I don't know what he did when he was younger or before I met him."

"He was evil before you met him."

"He was not evil."

"How do you know?"

"I am soul bound to him. I feel every emotion he does. I know every thought he thinks. I remember his memories."

"Can soul binding do that?"