Jon Bon Jovi - Chris Heaven - Do what you can (virtual duet) #DoWhatYouCan

The Trade Caravan

The Trade Caravan Quaraun sat cross-legged on a thick silk rug, needle and thread in hand, his mechanical fingers clinking faintly as he embroidered. The jellyfish tendrils of his hair curled around him protectively, occasionally snapping in irritation. The soft pink silk stretched taut across the embroidery hoop bore a pattern of silver lilies, each stitch precise and flawless. His muttering broke the quiet, punctuated by the clink of BoomFuzzy’s cooking tools on the other side of the tent. "I despise Humans," Quaraun growled, tugging the thread tight. "Burning my lighthouse. Calling me a villain. A big boss!" His voice rose with each word. "I am a silk merchant! A mage! Not some—some dungeon monster!" Across the tent, BoomFuzzy stirred a cauldron of clam chowder, the savory scent wafting through the air. Loaves of freshly baked bread cooled on a nearby counter. "Ya’re nae wrong, Love," BoomFuzzy said, his Scots accent lilting. "But gripin...

The Bandits and the Pink Necromancer

The Bandits and the Pink Necromancer The wind howled through the endless expanse of snow, carrying icy tendrils that snuck into every crack of the pink silk tent. Quaraun sat cross-legged on a pink velvet cushion, his long, silver jellyfish tentacle hair draped in neat coils around him, slithering protectively. His gold mechanical hands, glinting softly in the faint candlelight, meticulously embroidered a rose onto a scrap of pink silk. The scent of gingerbread and clove wafted from the corner where BoomFuzzy stirred a pot of strange gingerbread stew. No one knew why gingerbread was in his stew, but he claimed it was the secret ingredient and Quaraun and GhoulSpawn had decided not to question the old Faerie’s logic. "Ye’re too quiet, Love," BoomFuzzy said, his grizzled voice cutting through the eerie stillness. Quaraun grunted in reply. BoomFuzzy turned, his steampunk goggles fogged from the heat of the fire. Being legally blind he could not see...

Pickling Perfection

Pickling Perfection The air inside the BioDome was crisp and fragrant, carrying the tangy aroma of dill mingled with the fresh, watery scent of cucumbers. Rows upon rows of leafy green plants stretched out, their soft shadows dancing under the glowing artificial sun. Quaraun reclined on a pink velvet lounge, surrounded by frilly pink silk cushions, his usual pink parasol poised in one hand while he sipped black tea from a porcelain cup painted with pink roses. “Glinta, you’re bruising them!” he snapped, watching GhoulSpawn fumble with a particularly large cucumber. “I’m not bruising them!” GhoulSpawn retorted, his tone exasperated as he carefully placed the cucumber in the wicker basket by his side. His green velvet coat was rolled up to his elbows, and a smudge of dirt marred his glasses. “You’re the one who insists I do this by hand. We could use a harvesting machine, you know.” “And deprive you of learning proper care for the plants?” Quaraun huffed. “You are my apprentice, not...

EK's Star Log

Search This Blog