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Kelim & The Necromancer

The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane

Volume 2

By

EelKat Wendy Christine Allen

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For two hundred years, Quaraun walked from one side of the planet to another. He wandered until he came to an ocean. Then he boarded a ship and a few months later found himself walking across a strange new country. He proceeded to roam until he again reached another ocean. There he got on another ship, continued to another province, and walked some more. The further he travelled, the more outlandish his outfits became. The more famous the bereft Elf Necromancer became, and the more he slew.

Quaraun was formerly known as the Moon Elf wizard who helped people. Now identified as the insane Necromancer who kills without hesitation. Slaughtering anyone who dared provoke him. When Quaraun disembarked onto a new port, crowds trembled at his feet. Mothers clutched their children and fled. Solders dropped their weapons at his feet and pleaded for mercy.

Never again an Elf persecuted and ridiculed by others. Legends of the Moon Elf Necromancer who possessed Thullid mind control had swept the globe. Parents used stories of The Pink Necromancer to intimidate their children and make them obey.

People feared Quaraun more than they feared Thullids.

For millennia, nothing was more dreaded than Thullids.

The Thullids were monstrous creatures who'd fallen out of the sky centuries ago. Trapped, after their ship crashed into the planet. Thullids, in their true form, had tiny white, worm-like bodies covered with slender arms. They burrowed into a host body, ate its brain. Then attached their thousands of microscopic hairlike arms into the spinal nerves, taking complete control of the body they had occupied.

True Demon possession. When they mature, they become jellyfish. Their bodies filled the host's skull while the tentacles merged with the nerves.

Thullids lack a defensible body and need to take over the host to exist. But they have unprecedented brainpower. All they had to do was think about it and it happened, no matter what it was.

If a Thullid wanted you dead, all it had to do was look at you, wish you dead and POOF, you will die immediately. There wasn't even time for POOF! You died so instantly that POOF didn't have time to happen. That's just how astoundingly fast it was.

The younger the Thullid, the less control they had over their capabilities and the more chaotic they were.

Spawnlings.

Thullid, in their larval state, were dangerous if left to their own devices. Thullids lived in hives and scrupulously supervised their spawnlings to keep them out of mischief. Word went out that an abnormally powerful Thullid was without care of a hive. The Di'Jinn sent their priests to force him into their hive.

Unfortunately for the Di'Jinn, they did not like horses. The infant Thullid in a young Elf's body returned home with a wounded Unicorn. The Di'Jinn sent the horse to wander alone in the desert. Weeks later, the young Quaraun returned home to the Valley of the Moon Elves, saying the Di'Jinn had sent him home.

They believed him.

The Moon Elves had no reason not too.

Only two people knew the truth.

One: the little black eyed Unicorn that had watched the carnage unfold as every last Di'jinn wizard of the formidable Di'jinn order was reduced to ash in seconds as their bodies burst into flames, burning from the inside out.

And two: ZooLock the high priest of the Temple of Ashgill, who had seen into the dark murderous thoughts of the young Quaraun, and knew what he was about to do, and was thus able to escape before Quaraun murdered the rest of the Di'jinn order with nothing but the words: "I wish you were all dead."

The Thullids' Di'jinn wizards were the most feared creatures in all the known universe, no one went up against them, their combined powers could bring a continent to it's knees, and Quaraun had killed them in seconds, with nothing but a wish.

Unknown to Quaraun, the Unicorn, was not a Unicorn, by something far worse. A Phooka, named King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. An evil, blood thirsty, black hearted creature who relished in blood shed and carnage and was mesmerized by what Quaraun had done to the Di'jinn and had followed him back to the Deep North, where he changed form and became a candy maker named BoomFuzzy.

Gwallmaiic became obsessed with the Elf who had the ability to kill with a death wish, and left his lover Gibedon behind for Quaraun. But Quaraun knew none of this. Quaraun did not know that the horse he had saved, had in fact been BoomFuzzy in another form.

While King Gwallmaiic stalked the Elf, fascinated by his powers and lost in an insatiable lust for Quaraun, ZooLock on the other hand, lived in mortal terror of the Moon Elf and fled to the farthest reaches of the world to get away from him, only to run into him at every turn.

While their frequent crossing paths was nothing but a coincidence, ZooLock believed the Necromancer was hunting him and his terror of Quaraun knew no bounds.

When ZooLock realized that Quaraun was looking for the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, he hatched a plot to find the enchanted map created by the Elf Eater and give it to Quaraun, knowing it'd send the Elf in circles on an endless wild goose chase, and thus keep Quaraun from crossing his path again.

And thus Quaraun now had in his possession the Elf Eater's famous enchanted map, and just as ZooLock had hoped, it was not being cooperative, and now Quaraun was hopelessly lost, as he tried to make his way back to the Deep North, only to find it always just around the corner and never in reach.

Quaraun, unfortunately for many of his victims, wasn't very smart, in fact, he could be safely called quite stupid, which was why he really had no idea that he was the one killing the people who dropping dead around him. He also had no clue that most of the people he talked to were ghosts and he, being a Necromancer, was the only one who could see or hear them, thus most people thought Quaraun insane when they saw him sitting and talking to no one.

Terror seized the heart of the poor frightened Elf every time villagers started dropping like flies, which resulted in more people dying and the Elf becoming even more terrified.

Quaraun himself believed that the Lich Lords were following him and killing everyone that got near him. He thus became ever more reclusive, avoiding heavily populated areas, fearing that he'd walk into a village and every one would drop dead.

Quaraun had been raised by the Moon Elves. He had been raised as a Moon Elf. He fully believed that he was a Moon Elf.

To the rest of the world, Quaraun was nothing but a Moon Elf.

A very powerful Moon Elf.

A Moon Elf with the powers of a Thullid.

King Gwallmaiic and ZooLock alone, knew the truth, that Quaraun was a Thullid living in an Elf's body.

Even Quaraun himself did not know he was a Thullid. He sometimes suspected it but he pushed those thoughts out of his head as often as he could. Had he known for sure that he was a Thullid, he might have been more careful of the words "I wish."

I wish….

They were Thullid words.

Thullid wizards called themselves The Di'jinn, and granted wishes is what they did.

Anything you wished for, the Di'Jinn would grant it. . . For a price. Each Di'Jinn had a different price. What the wizard wanted, depended on the wizard himself.

Wishes were not to be taken lightly.

Thullids were quick to enact punishment on anyone foolish enough to wish for vain or greedy things.

To wish for one's self was a dangerous thing, for one never knew what the wish granter would actually give you.

No.

Wishes must NEVER be taken lightly.

Quaraun knew this.

For Quaraun was himself a Di'Jinn. He knew it better then most the danger of wishes, for he was very adapt at granting wishes and tacking a price on to the wish.

Quaraun kept written contracts for every wish he granted.

Contracts signed in the blood of the wish granter.

Blood that bound their souls to the paper.

Bound their souls to Quaraun.

Quaraun was apt to abuse magic, especially the soul binding ritual.

His soul was broken.

Souls.

Souls were the problem.

He wanted to heal it.

What better way to heal a broken soul, than by stealing the souls of others?

Tricking them out of their souls.

Granting wishes for a price.

The price of their soul.

Few cared about their souls.

Most scoffed at the thought of a soul.

Not many people in this day and age believed in souls, so most people were quick to sign a contract.

Greed. Lust. Gluttony. Anything they wanted. For free? Quaraun became a highly sought after wizard for hire, precisely because his prices were so cheap. Quaraun was very wealthy, he had no need for money. What he needed was a soul. And so he cast spells and made potions and magic items for anyone who asked. Made them for free. He asked for no money. Just your soul. Overjoyed by their good fortune, and thinking Quaraun too insane to realize what a fool he was to give away his goods for free, people flocked to him, more than willing to give away the soul, that they did not believe they had.

Granting wishes was something the Di''jinn did and Quaraun did try to avoid doing it, but when people were desperate, they wouldn't take no for an answer, and who was he to deny granting the wish they were so willing to give up their soul for?

Quaraun, glided gracefully across the room, to stand beside the pretty young wife. The Elf cupped his hand under her chin and pulled her face close to his.

"Dear sweet, pretty girl. Your husband was right. You ARE very beautiful. Not as pretty as me, but still, lovely just the same. Do you know what happens to someone when they lose their soul?"

"No," the girl squeaked, sounding terrified.

"They die, ever so slowly. They turn into a Nzambie. They start to eat everything and everyone around them. Their need to drink blood and eat brains becomes insatiable. And in your case. . ."

Quaraun's gaze moved to the young woman's pregnant belly. He slid his hand from her chin, down her breast, stopping on her belly.

"Your baby will not survive. It's soul, is connected to yours. It's soul will go with your soul, out of your body, and into me. I'm a soul eater now. A side effect of being soul bound to a Lich. Half my soul is dead. Half his soul lives in me. Half my in him. But he died. Now I drink blood. I eat brains. Because I was in love, and I bound my soul to his. I was not careful with my wish. I didn't think of the consequences. Why would I? I was young and foolish. I will be beautiful forever. Immortal. Unageing. But at a terrible price. I wished for love. Eternal love. Love that would never die and would last forever. Your father can't kill me. Though he and his men, may try. But I can never die. Not while the Lich lives. I tried to warn your husband. I told him what had happened to me and what would happen to him and you, if he carried out his wish. But he said he didn't care. Said he would have you at any price. He said you were his. But you didn't love him. So he needed me, to cast a love spell. Grant his wish. He got his wish. But he didn't pay me. you've had three glorious years of bliss. But every wish has a price. Payment is due today."

Quaraun let go of the girl.

"I didn't hire you." She pleaded. "Deal with my husband, not me. You can't force me to agree to any of this."

"Your husband was unusual. Most care not for their soul. They will gladly sell it for love. But you he tried so hard to get you to love him, and you never noticed he was alive. Desperate, he came to me. He wanted your love. He wanted your hand in marriage. But he wasn't willing to give up his soul. He loved himself, far greater than he loved you. He wanted you to love him, as much as he loved himself. But he did not desire to love you in return. No man who loves a woman, offers the price, your husband offered."

"What did he offer?"

"YOUR soul. And the souls of whomever were with you when I arrived. And look how many are here. Half your father's kingdom is here to celebrate your child's birth."

"We can pay you money. My father is wealthy. . ."

"I am Quaraun, The Pink Necromancer. Your father's wealth is but a pittance next to mine. And I'm the most powerful sorcerer the world has ever known, I can get more money, whenever I need it. I've no need for your money. I need things that can not be so easily got. I need souls. I am the most beautiful being ever born. How old do you think I look?"

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"You look very young. Younger than me."

"I know. And yet I am more than 750 years old. Elves should only live 400 years. I'm twice the age I should be. And I've not aged in 500 years. I am immortal and I have eternal beauty and I have love that can never die even though my lover is now dead. That's what I wished for. But it came at a price. I eat souls to survive and maintain my eternal, youthful beauty. I need your soul. I'm not evil. I don't want to hurt your unborn child. I don't want to take your soul."

"Than don't."

"Too late. You don't have a choice."

"Why?"

"Because I don't have a choice," the Moon Elf said, shaking his head. "People who play with magic, wishes, and souls like they children's toys, eventually learn the error of their folly. I must survive. I don't want to die. I warned your husband to never sign a contract without reading it first. Especially not one written by a Necromancer." Quaraun turned to the man. "You are a fool. Prove to me you act on love not lust, I said, you have not done that. You selfish dick. A child already born and another on the way. Had you loved her, you would have waited, like you agreed to do in the contract. Ten years with no sex, and your souls would have been free. No longer bound to me. Prove your love was not lust, by never having sex with her. Prove you loved her, more than you loved yourself. You couldn't do it. And payment is due on this the first birthday of your first child. You never loved her. You just wanted to sink your dick into her warm flesh. A man who loves would never sell the one he loves to save himself. You know nothing of love. . ."

The girl looked to her husband: "What have done?"

"It's not like he says, he's lying. He tricked me."

"I deceived no one. You were too fast to save your own ass at any cost. Today is the first birthday of your first born child. Ten years have not yet passed. You couldn't live with her, for ten years, without sex. Prove to me you loved her and didn't just lust after her. Had sex never happened, the spell I cast would have erased itself 10 years from the day you signed it."

"Quaraun," the young mother pleaded. "Please, I made no deal with you. I have no part in this. Please have pity."

And such was life for Quaraun.

An endless need to collect souls.

Before binding his soul to BoomFuzzy's, Quaraun had never done anything evil, illegal, or even remotely bad. Nor would he have. This was the price he had paid for eternal love. A price that he didn't truly understand, until his lover commit suicide to become a Lich.

Now he was alone. Soul bound to an undead creature, that was making it's way across the planet decimating villages, slaughtering everyone in it's path. And Quaraun, followed it, hunted it, in and endless search to find the Lich and destroy it. Kill it. Free himself of it's grasp. Gloomy. Disappointed, and eternity unhappy. Quaraun wandered the world aimlessly. Always two steps behind the Lich. The Lich always eluding him, for it had part of his soul, and so, just as he always knew what the Lich was about to do, so too, did the Lich always know what Quaraun did.

The Lich was no longer the man, he had loved. It was an undead creature incapable of feeling love or mercy, or even remembering that it had once been alive, once been in love.

As the Lich became more soulless, so to, did Quaraun require more souls to stay alive.

Lost.

Troubled.

Miserable.

Grieving.

The hopelessness of endless despair constantly crushing his mind. The Lich was out, killing again. Quaraun could feel it. He hated that he could feel it. Feel the joy the Lich felt as it obliterated towns, slaughtering with out mercy. Everything the Lich felt as it raped and murdered and plundered and destroyed everything in it's path, Quaraun felt, and it was killing him. Quaraun needed to drown it out.

Quaraun stared at the bottle of Green Fairy Wine. It's minty, anise fragrance lulled him to it. A flavour as heavenly as it smelled. But even that came with a price. More drug than alcohol, Absinthe clouded his mind with hallucinations. The consequences of the delightful aromatic wine, was a clouded mind.

The deliriously unhappy, lonely, heartbroken Elf didn't want to deal with a hallucination right now.

Hallucinations had become a regular part of Quaraun's life these days. Besides drowning out the Lich, he had pain of his own he wanted to erase.

Quaraun's health was not well. He had immortality. But immortality did not mean, life without suffering. Life without pain. Quite the contrary. The aches and pains of old age, creaked through Quaraun's muscles and bones. But one pain, worried him most of all.

The pain in his head grew worse. It was a pain he had lived with since childhood. A Thullid parasite lived in his head, burrowed deep inside his brain, slowly eating it as it grew bigger, hollowing out the Elf's body and taking over.

The thought of the Thullid in his head and what it was doing to him, depressed him. He didn't like thinking about it. He pretended it wasn't there. He pretended he was still an Elf, that somewhere inside him, Quaraun the Elf still existed. He knew this wasn't true.

Quaraun the Elf had died centuries ago.

Quaraun the Thullid was simply replicating his life, pretending to be the Elf, Quaraun had once been.

To the innocent eye Quaraun appeared to be travelling with nothing.

No pack.

No weapons.

No equipment.

Nothing at all.

Anyone meeting him on the street would presume him nothing more than an empty handed wandering merchant, for a merchant is what the heartbroken Moon Elf told people he was. He had begun avoiding telling people who he was. The rumours about him were too wide spread now.

Every one knew the name of Quaraun the Insane, but few knew what the hermit Necromancer looked like or how he dressed.

The fact that the lonely Elf Necromancer was a transvestite and easily mistaken for female was not mentioned in any of the rumours, nor was the fact that the mournful Elf wore eye-popping pink.

Somehow, people neglected to mention these facts when spreading their slanderous lies about Quaraun.

And so as long as no one knew his name, the nervous little Elf could pass safely through a village without striking terror into the hearts of those he passed, simply because they were on the lookout for an evil Moon Elf Wizard, not an elegant, Northern High Elf princess.

Quaraun was cloaked in pink silk regalia.

Dripping with glittering embroidered hearts.

Massively encumbered in pink and verdant gemstone jewellery.

And carrying nothing but a minuscule beaded pink heart-shaped purse.

Quaraun looked every bit the aristocratic princess, he acted like he was. If the gloomy little Necromancer didn't speak, you couldn't tell he wasn't a female Elf.

Quaraun was not trying to be a female, nor did he pass himself off as one. He simply liked the fashions women wore and saw no reason why he couldn't dress the same way. His voice did give his natural gender away.

The shy, secluded, quiet Elf didn't deny being a male if anyone asked. But with his social anxiety and selective mutism issues, the grief stricken Elf rarely spoke to anyone. Thus few knew that this lady in pink finery was in fact the world's most remarkably formidable and most exceedingly powerful wizard.

The primary problem with the way Quaraun dressed was the fact that most women did not actually dress like the reclusive little Moon Elf did. He dressed like a prostitute. Or at least, he dressed like what Human men considered being a harlot.

In these times when sumptuary laws forbid females from wearing the kind of clothes Quaraun wore, only prostitutes dared wear such garb.

Silks and cottons were exceedingly rare and in most places excessively taboo.

Each of Quaraun dresses was embroidered with enough gems and pearls to buy a country.

Quaraun had so many jewels on his dresses that he made King Edward III look dull and drab and everyone agreed that that was hard to do.

Once men got done gawking at his clothes, the next thing they noticed was his long, silken, luxuriant bum length silver hair, which the skittish little Elf left unplaited, uncut, unstyled, and spent three hours every morning brushing until it gleamed and flowed fluid as silk.

Human women kept their hair tamed somehow.

Husband-less women braided their hair and twisted it into ram's horns.

Espoused women did the same but wore a veil to let men know they were owned.

Only prostitutes wore their hair long and loose, a sign to men that they were both single and available with eagerly open legs.

Unfortunately Quaraun was an Elf, not a Human, and he knew little of Human ways or Human laws, and was unaware that by dressing as he did and keeping his hair long and lose, Human men assumed him to be a prostitute begging for every man in the village to fuck her. This led to Quaraun having been raped or nearly raped on many occasions.

Most horny Humans left him alone once they realized the stupid little Moon Elf was a male, but others didn't care and raped him any ways.

Once men got past seeing the clothes which said prostitute and the hair which also said prostitute, they saw his face. Everyone had always said Quaraun was the most beautiful being ever born.

All Elves were beautiful, it was why their entire race was so vain, but even other Elves were envious of Quaraun's looks. He had an unnatural beauty that took the breath away from anyone who laid eyes on him. The end result was every male he meet, Elves, Humans, Dwarves, Thullid, and Gnomes alike, wanted to jump in bed with Quaraun and expected to be able to do so, thinking that the timid little Moon Elf was both a female and a whore.

Quaraun could get help from any male he meet, in any village. He was the most exceptionally beautiful Elf any one had ever laid eyes on and he knew it.

Boy did he know it.

Vanity.

Arrogance.

Ego.

Pride.

Pretension.

Self-admiration.

Conceitedness.

Hubris.

Ostentation.

Disdain.

Narcissism.

Quaraun excelled at these things.

He made an art of these things.

It was his entherial good looks that made him so damned arrogant, stuck up and pompous.

And with everyone thinking he was a female, the silver haired, pearly skinned, azure eyed Elf had males everywhere eating out of his hands, lining up and begging to serve him, just to get a close up glimpse of his astounding beauty.

This often lead to trouble, as men were rarely content just to look at the mesmerizing beautiful Elf and usual the men expected Quaraun to repay their help with sex.

In every town he entered, Quaraun ran up against someone who wanted to rape him and was bold enough to try.

Quaraun was very small and very thin, and was every bit at frail as he looked. Standing only 5'6″ tall, most women were taller than he was. Elves were usually very tall. Quaraun was always the shortest Elf anyone had ever seen. Most Humans were taller then he was, not just their men, but their women too, in fact their children were often taller than Quaraun. So this increased the perception that he was female, but it also made him physically too weak to fight off most Human attackers. Quaraun with his vanity was quick to take anything offered him, but often the men doing the offering expected sex in exchange.

There were several problems, first being that regardless of what he looked like, Quaraun was still a male and most men coming after him, wanted a female, so once the discovery was made, that there was male genitals under his skirts, Quaraun often found himself with a knife to his throat or in his side as was the most recent case.

The second problem was the fact that even if the man coming after him, didn't care that he was male and was willing to fuck him any ways, Quaraun was a wizard of the Di'jinn order and had taken a vow of celibacy and thus had no interest in sex. He was for lack of a better term, an uncastrated eunuch. Quaraun was very adamant in not breaking his vows, so adamant that in spite of his love and desires for BoomFuzzy, the two had never had sex, which was certainly not from a lack of trying on BoomFuzzy's part. BoomFuzzy would have ravished the Elf daily had Quaraun let him.

Mostly uncastrated.

Quaraun's scars were another issue entirely.

Quaraun was vain enough, that were his entire body beautiful, he probably would have run around naked, but his belly, groin, thighs, and genitals were badly mutilated and covered in horrifically disfiguring scars.

But all of this contributed to the problem Quaraun had when travelling on the road. For he looked every bit to the Humans as a prostitute begging to be fucked and he appeared to be carrying nothing with him, save a small purse that hung from his belt and could not possibly have held more then 10 coins in it.

While Quaraun was blessed with beauty, he wasn't blessed with brains.

Quaraun was too stupid, too vain, and too scatterbrained to think to not look so vulnerable and was often left to wonder why he was so often attacked by gangs of horny men dropping their pants and trying to fuck him.

It was a frequent occurrence for men, bandits, highwaymen, camped beside the road for the night, to see Quaraun, think he was a she, and the she was a whore, and so ask him to join their camp and stay the night.

Quaraun dim-witted and forgetful as he was, never realized their intentions, would agree to share their camp, only to quickly find himself pinned to the ground being groped and undressed by a group of men whom hadn't had anything to fuck in weeks and, once discovering the reluctant Elf was a male, were not about to let that get in the way of what they had started.

Quaraun always managed to get away with the help of Pocket Lich, his pet DracoLich.

The dark, demonic, undead dragon would catch the rapists by surprise. Some horney humans fought the enormous, ominous onyx dragon. Others dragged Quaraun into the bushes, still intending to rape him, dragon or no dragon.

Quaraun often ended up with badly bruised arms and legs where the men had restrained him.

Poor Quaraun. Surely the men would kill him. The men would have beaten the poor, frightened, frail, sickly little Elf to death while raping him. But the DracoLich mysteriously materialized and greedily gobbled up the men.

To the untrained eye, it would have seemed that the DracoLich should have eaten Quaraun as well. The men were too quick to assume the Elf unarmed and carrying nothing.

Examining his belt revealed a singular, sinister truth.

But therein lay the illusion, for Quaraun was a tailor, a jeweller, and a wizard. Before his people died, Quaraun had lived a simple life. Quaraun sewed heavily embroidered clothes and accessories for fine ladies and wealthy Wizards. His specialty had been colourful gemstone jewellery, luxuriant velvet capes, and shimmering silk robes bequeathed with magical powers. At his hip was a little heart-shaped bag that was far bigger on the inside. Large enough on the inside to house a massively big black dragon, along with the dragon's mountain full of glittering gold.

The DracoLich was Quaraun's pet and he kept her safe and sound in his pocket. Once aware the men intended to rape him, the discombobulated little Necromancer pulled the Dragon out of his bag of holding. Thus she appeared seemingly out of no where.

From Quaraun's belt hung a small, insignificant looking pink heart shaped pouch. It resembled a sachet, heavily embroidered with beads and bullion. The pouch no bigger than his fist. Within it was anything Quaraun thought he might need on his journey. Including a tent which would well serve his sleeping outside at night.

Quaraun stood in the road, look at his map, than looking up at the sky to study the clouds. He was growing tired and wanted to stop and rest. He could see a think forest up ahead, and thought it would be a good place to set up his little tent and sleep. But the clouds hung low in the sky, dark and grey, while thick fog rolled in.

"Snow", the Moon Elf muttered to himself. "Damn. No time to stop. I need to get to the village before the snow gets too deep to travel."

Quaraun rarely slept in public houses, inns, apartments or taverns. He only stayed at such places when he was sick or wounded and needed a safe place for extended rest. Or when the weather was ill fitted for sleeping outdoors. He would have slept in his tent tonight, where it not for the black storm clouds rising up on the horizon.

Quaraun said he preferred to sleep indoors, stating that he was an emperor and emperors sleep in beds. But, when presented with the choice, he choose sleeping outside instead. On warm dry nights, he lay on the grass, watching the moon. On cooler nights he lay on a thin bedroll, in his pink striped tent, instead. Quaraun had been a travelling vagabond wizard for many decades now. He'd grown used to sleeping outdoors. He enjoyed being outdoors. Being inside buildings made him feel trapped. Uncomfortable.

It had snowed last night.

It would snow again this night.

Quaraun knew he must find a place to seek sturdier shelter for the night.

The heart shaped bag held more than just a dragon and a tent. The bag on Quaraun's belt contained an entire house full of items.

His massive mostly pink wardrobe. A myriad of magic weapons he never used. Shelves full of potions, he had pre-made for selling. All his sewing and magic item crafting equipment. Food. The heads of those whom he had killed. The hearts of his murder victims. Rumour had it that the eccentric Elf Necromancer kept his dead wife in this little heart shaped bag to one day resurrect her.

Of course, this rumour was only partly true. He had every dead Moon Elf in his pocket. And had no intention of resurrecting any of them. He simply liked being reminded that were all dead, exactly as they should be.

When the melancholy little Necromancer got tired need to rest, he pulled out a bedroll. When he needed a place to sit, out came a big carved gold throne with overstuffed pink velvet cushions.

And in case the bizarre little Elf ever decided to settle down, the palace of the Moon Elves was also in his pocket. His shop and BoomFuzzy's house were both in his pocket as well.

Quaraun had no need to look for a place to spend the night. All the forgetful Elf had to do was pull a house out of his pocket and be safe and dry. Quaraun was too stupid to think of that and so he bemoaned the oncoming snow storm bearing down around him.

Quaraun hated to set up camp, and have it get soaking wet. He felt there was nothing worse then trying to stuff a wet tent back into its little heart shaped pouch.

Pocket Lich was very important to Quaraun, for he had no other means of protection. To lose Pocket Lich was to lose the only defence he had.