quirky character

by Bill Tiepelman

Aurora of the Elven Soul

The forest always hummed at twilight, but tonight it was downright chatty. Aurora Mossglow, the self-proclaimed "semi-retired Keeper of Mystical Stuff," perched on an ancient tree stump, poking at the glow on her arms. "Well, that's new," she muttered, watching the tattoos she didn’t remember getting pulse with light. "I swear if this is because I ate that glowing mushroom last week, I’m suing nature." She leaned back, her pointed ears twitching as the forest whispered in the language of rustling leaves and creaking branches. Something was coming, and it was big. Aurora wasn’t one for dramatics (she’d tell you this five minutes before dramatically storming out of an argument), but the combination of glowing skin, a halo she hadn’t ordered, and a forest full of nervous energy was enough to make her rethink her plans for a quiet retirement. "All right, forest," she said, standing up and dusting off her vibrant orange robes, embroidered with intricate designs that seemed to shimmer when she moved. "What’s the deal? Is this about that squirrel I yelled at last week? Because he started it." The Visitor Before the trees could answer (and they absolutely could answer if they felt like it), a shadow loomed in the distance. It was tall, lumbering, and had the distinct aura of someone who had just woken up and wasn’t happy about it. Aurora squinted. "Oh great, it’s you." The shadow resolved itself into a hulking troll with moss for hair and an expression that could curdle milk. His name was Grumbor, and he had been Aurora’s neighbor-slash-nemesis for years. "I see you’re glowing," he grunted. "What’d you do this time?" "First of all, rude," Aurora said, pointing a glowing finger at him. "Second, I don’t know! It’s not like I woke up this morning and thought, ‘Hey, you know what would make me look even cooler? Random bioluminescence.’" Grumbor scratched his mossy scalp. "Maybe you’re chosen or something." "Chosen for what?" Aurora demanded. "A light-up dance troupe? The annual Forest Glow Parade? If there’s a prophecy involved, I’m going to lose it." The Revelation Grumbor shrugged, which for him involved a lot of moss shaking loose. "Could be the prophecy. You know, the one about the 'Radiant Soul of the Forest' or whatever." Aurora groaned. "I thought we agreed to stop listening to prophecies after the last one turned out to be about a particularly shiny toad." "This one’s different," Grumbor said, pulling a scroll out of somewhere she didn’t want to think about. He unrolled it with a flourish. "See? ‘When the tattoos glow and the forest hums, the Chosen One shall arise to…’ Uh, wait, it’s smudged here. Something about saving the world. Or maybe baking bread. Hard to tell." "Fantastic," Aurora said, rolling her eyes. "So now I’m the Chosen One because the forest decided to turn me into a glow stick." The Journey Before she could complain further, the ground shook, and a deep voice boomed, "Aurora Mossglow, Keeper of Mystical Stuff, step forward." "Oh, come on," Aurora muttered. But she stepped forward anyway, because ignoring a disembodied voice in the forest usually didn’t end well. The voice continued, "You have been chosen to undertake a great quest. The fate of the realms depends on you." "Of course it does," Aurora said. "Because the realms always depend on someone who’s just trying to mind their own business." "Do you accept?" the voice asked. "Do I have a choice?" Aurora shot back. "No," the voice admitted. Grumbor patted her on the shoulder, leaving a smudge of moss. "Good luck. You’ll need it." "Thanks for the vote of confidence," Aurora said, adjusting her robe. "Well, if I’m going on a quest, I might as well look fabulous doing it." The Conclusion And so, Aurora set off into the glowing twilight, her tattoos lighting the way and her sarcasm sharper than ever. She didn’t know what the quest would entail, but she was pretty sure it would involve danger, absurdity, and at least one moment where she’d have to dramatically shout, "I told you so!" The forest sighed as she disappeared into the trees, already preparing itself for whatever chaos she was about to unleash. One thing was certain: the realms had no idea what they were in for.     Bring the Magic Home Inspired by Aurora’s glowing adventure? Now you can bring a piece of her radiant charm into your world. Whether you're a fan of her bold style or the mystical atmosphere of her forest, we've got something special for you. Check out these exclusive products: Tapestry – Transform any space into an enchanted realm with this stunning, wide-format wall tapestry featuring Aurora’s ethereal glow. Canvas Print – Add a touch of magic to your decor with a high-quality canvas print of Aurora’s luminous presence. Puzzle – Piece together the magic with a fun and captivating puzzle featuring the vibrant details of Aurora’s world. Throw Pillow – Bring a touch of whimsy and comfort to your space with a soft, eye-catching pillow showcasing Aurora’s intricate design. Visit our shop to explore these and more magical creations inspired by "Aurora of the Elven Soul."

by Bill Tiepelman

Mushroom Monarch in Winter

Deep within the frostbitten woods of the Wibbly Wobbly Forest—where nothing is quite as it seems—there lived a peculiar little creature known as Fizzlefrump. Officially, Fizzlefrump was the self-declared "Mushroom Monarch," a title they had proudly scribbled on a soggy leaf and ceremoniously nailed to a rotting stump. Whether anyone else acknowledged this title was irrelevant; Fizzlefrump had the crown (mushrooms count, don’t they?) and a regal swagger to match. It wasn’t an easy job ruling over a kingdom of fungi. Mushrooms, as it turns out, are terrible conversationalists. “Tell me your secrets, O great toadstools!” Fizzlefrump would bellow, standing atop their royal stump, only to be met with frosty silence and the occasional spore puff. Yet, Fizzlefrump persisted, convinced that one day, the mushrooms would reveal the mysteries of the universe. Or at least how to keep their fuzzy socks from freezing solid. The Royal Duties of Fizzlefrump Every morning, Fizzlefrump embarked on their daily rounds, inspecting their fungal subjects with a magnifying glass held aloft like a scepter. They took their job very seriously. A crooked mushroom? Straightened. A frostbitten cap? Polished with a spit-shine and a grumble. “You’re welcome,” they’d mutter to a cluster of particularly ungrateful chanterelles. On Tuesdays, the monarch hosted the “Mushroom Moot,” a weekly event where forest critters could voice their complaints. The turnout was usually poor. Last week, a raccoon showed up to complain about the lack of decent dumpsters in the forest. Fizzlefrump, as any good monarch would, nodded sagely and offered a detailed plan involving a catapult and an abandoned pizza box. The raccoon, oddly impressed, bowed and called them "Your Mushy Majesty" on the way out. A Visitor from the Outside One particularly frosty evening, as the forest glittered under a veil of ice, a strange figure stumbled into the Mushroom Kingdom. Clad in an oversized parka and looking very much like a lumpy snowman, the stranger introduced themselves as Gary, a professional mushroom forager. “Ah-ha!” Fizzlefrump exclaimed, puffing out their chest. “A lowly commoner come to pay tribute to the Monarch of Mushrooms, I see!” Gary, holding a half-eaten granola bar, blinked. “What?” Fizzlefrump squinted. “You there, peasant! State your business before the crown!” They tugged at their mushroom-laden curls for emphasis, sending a sprinkle of frost into the air. It was both regal and slightly sneeze-inducing. “I’m... just here for mushrooms?” Gary offered hesitantly. “To, you know, eat?” There was a long, dramatic pause. The kind that only occurs when one’s entire worldview is shattered in real-time. “Eat?” Fizzlefrump finally whispered, their glowing blue eyes narrowing. “My subjects? My loyal, squishy kingdom? How dare you!” Before Gary could respond, Fizzlefrump grabbed a nearby twig (which they dubbed “The Mighty Stick of Justice”) and began chasing the bewildered forager in circles around the stump. “OUTLAW!” Fizzlefrump bellowed. “INFIDEL! FRIEND OF SALADS!” The Great Mushroom Rebellion Word of the incident spread quickly through the forest. Squirrels whispered about it over acorn lattes, and an owl who had seen the whole thing promptly wrote a passive-aggressive poem titled "The Monarch’s Meltdown." Meanwhile, Fizzlefrump retreated to their moss-covered den, fuming. “This is an outrage!” they grumbled to a cluster of frost-dusted morels. “We must protect the kingdom at all costs! Even if it means war!” The mushrooms, predictably, did not respond. But Fizzlefrump was undeterred. They spent the next week building an elaborate defense system made entirely of twigs, icicles, and an alarming amount of raccoon fur. Gary, to his credit, never returned. He later described the experience as “oddly enlightening” and took up basket weaving instead. A Peaceful Resolution Eventually, Fizzlefrump’s rage subsided, replaced by a newfound sense of purpose. They declared the Mushroom Kingdom a sanctuary, banning all foraging under penalty of being hit with the “Mighty Stick of Justice” (which, upon closer inspection, was just a soggy twig). Life returned to its peculiar rhythm. Fizzlefrump resumed their rounds, their mushroom crown as frosty and fabulous as ever. The kingdom flourished, undisturbed by outsiders, and the monarch's glowing blue eyes sparkled with pride. And so, the Mushroom Monarch ruled on, their reign marked by equal parts whimsy, chaos, and an unshakable belief that mushrooms were destined to one day crown them the supreme ruler of all things squishy. Until then, there were socks to thaw and toadstools to polish. Long live Fizzlefrump, the quirkiest ruler the Wibbly Wobbly Forest has ever seen.     Explore the Archive This whimsical artwork, "Mushroom Monarch in Winter," is available for prints, downloads, and licensing. Visit our Image Archive to bring a touch of fantasy into your collection.