"What if Ooloff is right?" Quaraun said to no one in particular.

"About what?" Unicorn responded.

"Me. Ghosts. Zombies."

"Does ya believe in Zombies?"


"Well, then, dair's ya answer."

"I don't believe in Liches either, but here you are."

"Here I is."

"How are you here?"

"I start Lich making spell. Kill meself before it done. Un ya goes ahead un finishes it. Yis very good at de Necromancy, for someone who does no believe in dead t'ings."

"Do you see BeaLuna and Bullgaar?"

"Not right now."

"I know they're not here right now. I meant do you ever see them?"

"I soul bound to ya, Quaraun."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I sees whatever ya wants me to sees, Quaraun."

"You know, that kind of an answer, doesn't help me to believe you are real either."

"Maybe I is not real."


"I is Lich-ghost-thing of purple unicorn un yis only one what sees me. Can ya prove I is real?"


"Well then, how ya know I is?"

"I don't."

"Here. Drink. Clear ya head."

"CLEAR my head? With fucking Faerie Wine? Anise and wormwood, soaked in hashish, opium, beet beer, and grape wine. How the hell is it supposed to clear my head?"

Unicorn shrugged.

"I does na know. I is dead unicorn, here to haunts ya for all time un eternity. I here to make ya life miserable. Clear ya head. Fog ya head. What do I care? As long as I is messing wid ya head, I gots what I came for."

"Unicorn, please. I have a headache. I don't have time for your insanity. I'm trying to have a psychotic breakdown. I've got enough insanity of my own to think about. I don't need yours too."

"Fog ya head, then. Whatever. Do somet'ing."

Quaraun took the glass of smoldering green liquid from the undead Faerie and drank it. Unicorn poured Quaraun another glass and the Elf quickly drank that as well.

"Boy, ya must be quite de heavy drinker."

"What makes you say that?"

"Two glasses of Faerie Wine. Ya just guzzled dem down like dey was water."

"Well, give me a third and let's see how much I can take."

Just than, on the other side of the tavern, a drunk little Halfling, jumped up on a table and began singing a poem about the Shire.

"What is that god forsaken noise?" Quaraun moaned.

The Elf was slumped face down over the table and talking into his pink silk sleeve, so it was difficult to tell what he was saying. Unicorn wasn't sure if Quaraun was drunk, tired, sick, or all of the above.

"It a wee lil Halfling," Unicorn answered. "Him signing himself up a right old storm, him is."

"I have a headache. Go make him shut up."

Unicorn slid out of his seat and went to the Halfling's table. The tiny little humanoid was dancing gleefully, in between singing and reciting poetry.

"Me Elf be wanting ya to shuts ya wee lil trap," the old undead Phooka said to the Halfling.

A few moments later, Unicorn returned to Quaraun's table and once again sat down beside the Elf. Quaraun was still slumped over the table and had not yet looked up. His long white hair left Quaraun's face completely obscured from view.

"I can still hear him," Quaraun muttered through a mouthful of his hair.

"Aye. Him say ya was nothing but a no good son of bitch arrogant High Elf. Him told me to tell ya to go fuck yaself."

"I won't have to, I'm sure you'll do that later."

"Of course I will."

"I have a headache."

"Dat mean I can no fuck ya?"

"It means I want that fucking piece of shit over there to shut up. I didn't come here to listen to poetry. If I had wanted to hear poetry recited I would have gone to a theatre. I'm trying to rest."

"On de table?"

"Leave me alone. I'm tired."

"We could rent a room."

"I don't want to rent a room. I'm fine, right here."

"I could fuck ya better in a room. More privacy."

"I don't need a room. I need a nap. This table is plenty comfortable."

"I could fuck ya here at de table."

"You do and I'll ram my wand up your ass."

"Yeah. I know dat supposed to be threat, but I probably would like dat. So dat not incentive for me to no fuck ya on table."

"Than I'll shove it up your nose and scramble your brains with it, just go make that fucking bastard shut up!"

"I does no t'ink him will."

"I just want that singing wretch to shut his fucking mouth. And I want you to do it so I don't have to cause a scene by casting spells to raise more dead."

"Hhhm. We do gots quite enough dead people in our crew what wid Lichicorn lil old me, the ghost Gnome and zombie Dwarf. But dat be a right long poem him singing. Will take him an hour to get t'rough it."

"I don't want to wait an hour for him to finish. Go over there and make him shut up."

"How ya propose I do dat?"

"I don't know. Think of something. You're an Undead Trickster Faerie Ghost Lich Unicorn. You always think of something. You pride yourself on being the most annoying damned Fae on the planet. Do one of those things that you do. Just make him stop singing."

"Got it. One of those t'ings I does."

Unicorn got up and once again returned to the Halfling's table. This time he stood and silently watched the tiny creature as it merrily skipped and danced on the table, in the beat to its sing-song poetry recital. Unicorn walked slowly around the table, watching the little creature's every move, listening to the song, picking up on the cues of his movements.

After a minute or so, Unicorn stopped moving and stood silently, watching and waiting for just the right moment, and when that moment came, he swiftly pulled his machete from his hakama and lopped off the Halfling's head. There was a brief shrill gurgle shriek as the last stanza of the poem was cut to an abrupt halt.

At the sound of the Halfling's dying breath, Quaraun looked up for the first time. He sat staring and blinking, uncertain if Unicorn had actually just done what he thought Unicorn had just did. But he didn't have to wait long to confirm that he had.

Unicorn pranced back to Quaraun's table and plopped the Halfling's severed head in the middle of Quaraun's plate.

"Dair. Him no more sing," Unicorn said cheerfully, proudly beaming over his work. The Halfling's headless dead corpse was hanging skewered on Unicorn's gleaming silver horn. Crimson red blood dripped down the undead horse's face.

"That's not what I asked you to do."

"Ya tolds me to make him shut up by doing one of them t'ings that I does un I did."

"You cut off his frigging head!"

"Aye. Un now ya can add it to ya head collection."

"I don't have a... oh." Quaraun reached into his bag and pulled out Gibedon's head. "I forgot about that. Why does everybody keep losing their head around me?"

BeaLuna entered the tavern just then, back from her errands, and was about to start one of her usual conversations with Quaraun when she saw the Halfling's head.

"Quaraun, why do you have a head on your plate?"

"Why do you say that so calmly, like this is a normal every-day thing to happen to me?"

"Well, uhm... you know... it kind of is a normal every-day thing to happen to you. You are The Pink Necromancer after all. Heads kind of just come running and jump into your pockets."

Before Quaraun had a chance to answer, Bullgaar joined the trio.

"Quaraun!" The giant Dwarf boomed. "There's a head in your plate! Why's there a head in your plate?"

"I hate my life."