The Overview:

“Final Fantasy VI meets January 6.”

Knight Captain Pickle, once the brine of the King’s Court, has been jettisoned from Service for asking the wrong questions. Now, he’s on a mythic quest to purify the swampy capital of Quagmerica, where a demonic plague has infected both body and state. Behind the scenes, a sinister court physician is peddling cursed medicine to a fast-food-loving warlord-king who thinks governing is just another arena for conquest.

Pickle isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he does have a really cool sword, and he knows how to use it. He rallies a misfit fellowship that includes a disgraced alchemist, an opticks-wielding wife, a rogue airship pilot, and some extremely libertarian eagles. Their quest for three divine relics leads them through bombed out deserts, sky races over la selva, plague zones, and psychedelic hellscapes.

Ultimately, Pickle returns to confront the wizard, banish the demon, and reluctantly take the throne himself. The plague lifts. Pure water flows again. And despite our hero’s sense of vertigo when he ascends, a broken kingdom begins to heal.

Pandemonia is a satirical fantasy adventure. Part epic quest, part political farce, part redemption story. It’s written in the tradition of Bored of the Rings, Discworld, Mad Magazine, and The Adventure Zone. It’s fast-paced, irreverent, richly imagined, and ultimately, deeply human.

Yes, the humans win, despite their defects. “If you’re gonna be dumb you gotta be tough.”

The Story Summary:

“Four black shapes clung to the cliff, creeping upward like armored roaches. A wet, cyclopean tower jutted from the Cyan Sea, offering a middle finger to the heavens. Hundreds of feet below, their amphibious airship bucked in a sea of boiling cobalt.”

Siegfried O’Rock, AKA “Pickle”, Captain of the Knights of the DAWG Bowl, pauses halfway up the rope. Salt air bites his nostrils. Dragonskin armor rasps as he adjusts his grip.

The target: a forbidden magic reagent, hidden deep within Pangolese territory. The mission: retrieve and quarantine. Pickle and squad complete the raid. Mission accomplished…

A foggy reentry to the District, the swampy, sinkhole-ridden capital of Quagmerica, a city that smells, “like a mildewy sponge forgotten in the waxy folds of an obese vagrant’s armpit.”

King Rex greets his courtiers and knights the next evening with fireworks, booze, and Big Rex burgers. “A lion’s golden mane encircled his head, which sat like a cinder block atop his massive, portly body. He was fat, but fat like a hippopotamus bull is fat: a lethal, territorial, eating, mating machine. The alpha paced the stage. ‘My people,” he growled, “My beautiful, tremendous people… How are those bur-geeerrrs?’” Pickle wonders if he’d be better off “shoveling actual horseshit with his fellow rednecks in Dairyaire instead of whatever it was that he was doing now.”

Soon after Pickle's return, the artifact is stolen. The thief? Dr. Ant Sickle: court physician, amateur eugenicist, and self-proclaimed genius. “The firmament had slipped on its inky black undergarment and was begging for some mischief, perhaps a spanking. It was an ideal night for spooky skullduggery.

“Nyheh-heh-heh-heh!”, thought Dr. Sickle as he tiptoed through the city’s silent walkways. He wore his black scrubs so as not to be seen, and if accosted or spotted, he could always claim he was on route to perform one of his discreet “reality reassignment surgeries” that assisted in separating a pregnant mother from her unwanted fetus. A soundtrack of suspenseful string music fit for espionage echoed in his auditory cortex.”

Under cover of night, he creeps to the city's reservoir, unstoppers the relic, and pours its contents into the water. The demonic plague that follows mutates citizens into horned, tail-sprouting aberrations. Fear grips the streets. Conspiracies flourish. Sickle surreptitiously rises to power. Rex, eager to retain his throne but unwilling to read memos, let him take the reins. All policies are signed under the new doctrine: “No Mask, No Ass.”

Pickle asks the wrong questions. He is jettisoned from court and an extralegal bounty is placed on his head.

Melody, Pickle’s pregnant wife and the kingdom’s last competent magician, stays behind in the capital. A master of magical Opticks, she runs black-ops media campaigns against the regime. Sharp of mind, steel of spine, olive-skinned and busty, Melody is dangerous in all the right places.

She gets help. Her chief benefactor: Elron Tusk, trillionaire airship mogul, libertarian technocrat, and part-time gondolier. While Melody wages war with memes and illusions, Pickle flees into the wilds with only a sword, a headache, and a censored book fragment full of ancient demon lore.

In the ruins of Old Oldport, Pickle assembles his allies:

DanHam: a pirate/pilot from North Direa with a dream to reunite his homeland

“So you’re a pirate,” said Pickle.

“No, I’m a pilot!” replied DanHam, “and I resent you mocking my people’s silly accents.”

“Whatever, big shot” retorted Pickle, “you’re a smuggler.”

“Woah, not me,” said DanHam, “That sounds too smug.” He smirked smugly, “You may address me as Captain Danham, Lord of the Seven Skies.”

The Wiz: a disgraced alchol-chemist, exiled for turning urine into beer and back again

“I’ll lend you my magic, on one condition. You, good Knight, have the wonderful opportunity to sample some of my homebrew… My ‘Eye Pee Ehh,’ as it were. Piss or beer? Trust is the foundation of magic, and a noble heart is the source of trust. Do you have what it takes?”

To exorcise the demon, they’ll need three sacred relics:

The Spear of Alexander Jones, guarded by warlord Pajamahadi Kabumi in the desert fortress of Allatabad

The Crown of Thorns, hoarded by the druglord Nariz Sangrante and his white dragon, Queztlcokehead. The team wagers for this prize in an airship race.

The Holy Water, held in the Radlands by the liberty-loving Eagletarian cult of Mt. Bustmore, obtainable only by riddle contest The trials are as absurd as they are dangerous. Pickle gets beat up a lot. But the team succeeds and the relics are theirs. And then they are betrayed.

Captured, chained, and sentenced to “re-education,” Pickle is force-fed the demon’s essence. His mind buckles. But The Wiz, ever prepared, has keistered the antidote.

“It’s the only way, Sir Pickle! Save your soul, save the realm, suck down my fart!” Pickle attempted to shove The Wiz away, but his arms were now leaden, weighed down by the demonic cocktail coursing through his veins. “Heave ho!” cried The Wiz. His bare ass inches from the Knight’s face, he crushed the Eagle’s magic potpourri in his colon, and trumpeted a mighty cloud of flatulence from deep within his bowels, encircling Pickle in a cloud of rainbow smoke. Pickle squirmed and held his breath for as long as possible, but the gas persisted. After a valiant minute, he gasped for air.”

What follows is... transcendent. Pickle blasts off on a DMT bender through Hell and Paradise, where Jesus personally blesses the relics. “A true king is master of both soil and firmament. He who would steer a ship must first learn to pull an oar. And he who would command a fleet must learn to command the captains. Also, do you even know who my Real Dad is?”

Back in reality, the trio escapes their chains, a riot breaks out and storms the capital.

The final boss room features: Dork Vaper: a possessed and mechanized traitor-knight Dr. Sickle: now fully possessed by the demon Corona Joe Bidead: a zombified puppet King

“The Mangrove Palace burned in bloodred light emitting from the spotlights behind him. His slicked-back hair had the texture of banana peel fibers. His scalp, the texture of a ripe banana. His brain, the texture of banana pudding. A centipede scuttled through his scalp.” The fight is biblical. Pickle duels and defeats Vaper while The Wiz faces off with Sickle’s. The demon and Joe Bidead are stronger than anticipated. King Rex Machinor, in a shocking moment of humility, arrives late and bails out his furloughed employees. The Wiz exorcises the demon.

“The Wiz got unsteadily to his feet, producing the flask of holy water from his satchel, and chugged. He eyed Sickle, who was now on his knees, squirming against his invisible bonds. His serpentine demon features had fallen away to reveal the septuagenarian humanoid underneath. He gritted his teeth and spat, “This is no way to treat a dedicated public servant.”

“No,” said The Wiz sagely, “it is the way to treat a dedicated public restroom. I’ve been holding this in for a long time… Urine trouble.” The plague lifts.

Rex, standing in the ruins of his own city, turns to Pickle. “You broke it, you bought it.” Pickle is crowned. The crowd assembles at the Gorge Cockington Monument. Melody meets our hero in the reflecting pool. The pumps roar to life and blessed water sprays from the heroic king’s spigot. The people cheer. Pickle winces. It’s not the ending he planned, but it's the one the kingdom deserves.

Under King Pickle the Rockhead: Melody runs the spy agency DanHam reunites the Direas The Wiz is reinstated to his post Rex and Tusk land a no-bid contract to rebuild the capital

A hundred years later, Pickle’s bust is carved atop Mt. Bustmore. It is lovingly and regularly crapped on by the Eagletarians. And so Quagmerica heals. Imperfectly, and mythically.

Comp Titles (200 words):

There hasn’t been a major satirical fantasy novel with this tone since Bored of the Rings, but Pandemonia modernizes the form for readers who grew up on Final Fantasy, Mad Magazine, and Team America. It’s equal parts heroic quest and cultural takedown. It’s irreverent but sincere, world-weary but optimistic. Comps:

1. The Adventure Zone / Legend of Vox Machina – for episodic high jinks that pay off with real heart.

2. Discworld by Terry Pratchett – for satirical worldbuilding with emotional depth and commentary baked into the madness.

3. The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher – Urban(ish) fantasy pulp with political undertones.

This book is squarely aimed at young men (20s–40s) who want the mythic scale of classic fantasy with the subversive punch of modern political satire. It’s also ideal for gamers, and anyone who has ever said “What the hell happened to this country?”

Author Biography (50 – 100 words):

A concise, relevant introduction to who you are professionally. Highlight previous publications, research, professional experience, or personal expertise. If you’ve won awards, built a platform, or have credentials that will help market the book, this is the place to tell us.

I’m a veteran B2B sales executive with a professional background in storytelling and persuasion. I started writing again after I won a finalist prize for Balaji Srinivasan’s “Cloud Countries” essay contest. For the past two years, I’ve published satirical (crazed?) essays on politics and tech culture at Underground Designs. Pandemonia is my debut novel.

Marketing and Publicity (50 – 100 words);

I run Underground Designs on Substack with 200+ subscribers and a steady growth rate. I am also a weekly contributor to Gallows Humor Magazine. My platform includes a growing social presence among political commentators, podcasters, and indie lit fans, with a readership that skews Gen X and millennial males—ideal for genre crossover.

Politicians may try to sue me for defamation, but that will just cause demand for the book to skyrocket.