#fantasyfun

A hilarious and heart-warming fantasy adventure for young readers aged 7–9!

Meet Oily Gasbag — a big, clumsy, lovable goblin who somehow finds himself entering a village dancing contest with the help of Frieda Hasbug, an Austrian witch with a not-so-nice sister. Chaos, comedy, and magical mayhem are guaranteed!

From fashion-obsessed faeries to prank-loving teenage witches, Oily’s world is filled with unforgettable characters: Madame Popeen Propaire — the fanciest French faerie in town Grizzelguts & Scrumbletops — goblins with big hearts and big laughs Su Fa Su Gut — a sweet elf who makes Oily’s heart flutter

Who will take home the dancing trophy? And can Oily Gasbag keep his huge goblin feet under control long enough to win?

Dive into a laugh-out-loud story bursting with magic, trouble, and thrilling surprises — the first in a fantastical six-book series!

The sun was beating down on the verdant landscape below as Blackthorne and his two companions made their way up the hillside. It was a particularly lonely stretch of road, one that had led down from the more mountainous area where the Luminary shrine had been.

Blackthorne and his troupe were slowly making their way towards a local, minor city, turning from the mountains onto a much more worn-down path. This was a major trading route and one often used by travelers from foreign lands, places and cultures far removed from the Nine Kingdoms.

As they made their way towards the towering city in the far distance, a sudden disturbance caught Blackthorne's attention. A strange dust cloud was erupting its way up the path in the opposite direction and Blackthorne was a little taken aback to see it was being made by a trio of strange men riding what appeared to be - for lack of a better term - giant yellow chickens!?

They were tall, stalwart looking men, each of them an adventurer in their own right. But they had strange, impractically broad and elongated broadswords strapped to their backsides. Blackthorne marveled how they were even able to move about or wield such cumbersome weapons?

And they had strange helmets on, too? Or so Blackthorne thought until they got closer and he realized those weren't helmets but their own hair... massively gelled up and frost-tipped to perfection.

The men on their giant chickens wen't running by as Blackthorne's troupe stepped off the path momentarily to avoid getting caught in the dust storm from the avian ride's thunderous footfalls.

"Who in the Nine Kindgoms were those guys?" Selene asked, momentarily forgetting her ladylike manners.

"Foreigners," Ulric stated matter-of-factly.

"What strange land must they hail from?" Selene continued.