Since a few folks have been asking, I'm posting a bit of my writing here. This is an excerpt from the huge writing piece I'm working on; still a Work in Progress, but I thought I'd share it with you all.
If you want to check out all the chapters of the preview all together, check out the Google document link here or the Masterpost with a full list of public chapters and character profiles.
Character Profiles // Next Chapter
Shadow and Song - Chapter 1 - The Rabbit at the Gate
The journey to Cliffmore Keep had been long – days of winding roads, cold mornings, and the steady rhythm of hooves on packed earth. Pepper’s stomach growled as his carriage crested the final hill, revealing the fortress in full. Cliffmore rose from the landscape like a carved promise, its stone walls etched with age and authority. Knights in gleaming armor – foxes, badgers, otters, and other creatures – patrolled the battlements with practiced ease, their eyes sharp beneath polished helms.
Banners snapped in the wind, each bearing the sigil of the keep: a silver falcon perched atop a cliff. Pepper’s eyes lingered on the banners; below each were the colors of a different noble house. Some bore the stylized pawprint of the Badger Clans, others the curling tail of the Fox Lords, and a few – rarer – displayed the leaping Hares of the Eastern Marches. He wondered what it would take for a merchant’s son to earn a place among such storied lineages.
The keep itself was a patchwork of eras: ancient stone foundations from the time of the first kings, newer towers built after the last border war, and wooden walkways that creaked with every step. Gargoyles and grotesques shaped like stoats and hawks perched on the corners, their eyes forever watching the valley below.
Inside those walls awaited a new life, one that was so different from the carefree life he had enjoyed.
Not that being a merchant’s son was entirely free of problems. Having been raised to carry on in the family business, the pudgy rabbit had been expected to earn his keep as soon as he was old enough to pitch in and help with the family business. And he was good at it; or so he thought. Quick with sums, and even quicker with his tongue, Pepper had grown a reputation for being even more charismatic than his father: a worthy feat indeed.
The announcement that Pepper had been selected to train as a squire at Cliffmore Keep almost felt like a betrayal. Pepper struggled to understand why his father had altered his life’s path so drastically. Most of the squires there would have trained their whole lives to squire at Cliffmore – he hardly knew anything about combat beyond battles of wit.
“It might not make sense now, Petra, but I hope you trust me enough to know what’s best for you. You’ll soon grow to love it, I’m certain.” He wondered what he had done wrong for his father to send him away so suddenly.
The Keep loomed ahead, bearing judgement on Pepper’s future; it was just as much prison as it was a promise of a new beginning.
The rabbit’s paws trembled slightly as he neared the gates, the carriage slowing to a halt on the gravel path. The fortress menaced above him, its battlements reaching toward the clear blue sky like outstretched arms. The air smelled of iron and pine, and the distant clang of steel rang out from the training yard beyond the wall. Two stern-looking badger guards stood at attention, their armor catching the midday sun in sharp glints. One of them glanced at Pepper with a gaze that weighed and measured, as if trying to decide what kind of problem had just arrived to their doorstep that that they would now have to deal with. Pepper swallowed hard. He adjusted the strap of his satchel, squared his shoulders, and stepped down from the carriage.
“State your business,” the taller guard said, his voice gruff but not unkind.
Clearing his throat, Pepper presented the letter bearing his father's seal. “I am Petra Krolikov, son of Dmitri Krolikov. I've come to begin my training as a squire.”
The guards exchanged a quick glance – surprise, perhaps even amusement – before the shorter one took the letter and examined it carefully. After a moment, he nodded and returned it.
“Very good, follow me,” he said, gesturing through the gate. “The Master-at-Arms will want to see you immediately.”
A low creak echoed as the gates began to open, stone grinding against iron hinges, ropes straining somewhere unseen. Pepper stepped forward, his paws brushing the edge of the shadow cast by the archway.
As he entered the keep, Pepper was struck by the bustle of activity. Inside, the courtyard stretched wide and orderly, cobbled paths dividing training yards from stables, barracks from gardens. A trio of young squires jogged past, their tunics damp with sweat, wooden swords strapped to their backs. A falcon perched on the arm of a watchtower sentry, feathers ruffling in the breeze.
Pepper’s ears twitched. Every sound felt sharper here – the clang of steel, the bark of commands, the distant toll of a bell marking the hour. He adjusted his satchel again, and urged his legs to keep up with the badger’s longer stride.
Knights and squires of various species hurried across the courtyard, some carrying equipment, others engaged in training exercises. Most were predator species – foxes, wolves, and badgers predominantly – and nearly all appeared lean and muscular. His round belly suddenly felt more pronounced than ever.
Pepper tried to take it all in, but the sheer scale of Cliffmore threatened to overwhelm him. The keep was a living thing – its stone walls alive with the movement of dozens, perhaps hundreds, of creatures. To his left, a group of squires practiced sword forms under the watchful eye of a fox knight, their wooden blades clacking in a steady rhythm. To his right, a pair of badger squires hauled buckets of water from a well, their laughter echoing off the stone as they splashed each other in a brief moment of levity.
He caught the scent of baking bread drifting from a distant kitchen, mingling with the sharper tang of oiled leather and the metallic bite of the forge. A stablehand led a pair of shaggy ponies across the yard, their hooves clattering on the cobbles. Somewhere above, a bell tolled the hour, its deep notes vibrating in Pepper’s chest.
The training yard was a riot of color and sound. Squires of every species practiced under the watchful eyes of their knight-mentors. As they passed a row of archery targets, Pepper glimpsed a hawk-eyed hare loosing arrows with uncanny speed, each shaft thudding into the bullseye. Nearby, a group of younger squires struggled to lift a heavy shield wall, their instructor barking corrections in a voice that brooked no argument.
He glimpsed a group of hedgehog gardeners tending to a patch of rare herbs, their spines dusted with pollen. A pair of wolf squires sparred near the well, their blows echoing off the stone. Everywhere, the hierarchy seemed prevalent and clear – predators led, prey followed, and those who didn’t fit either role were left to find their own place.
The badger guard led him past a series of doors marked with painted sigils – one with a crossed sword and quill, another with a stylized tree. Pepper wondered what secrets lay behind each, and whether he would ever be permitted to enter them.
He tried to memorize the layout: the main hall with its soaring windows, the barracks with their rows of boots lined up outside, the gardens where a pair of elderly hedgehogs tended rows of herbs. Every detail felt important, as if the keep itself were testing his powers of observation.
A group of older squires passed by, their armor gleaming, and one – a tall wolf with a scar across his muzzle – gave Pepper a look that was equal parts curiosity and challenge. Pepper straightened his posture, trying to appear braver than he felt.
He realized, with a pang, that he was the only rabbit in sight. The rest were foxes, wolves, badgers, otters, and the occasional hare. He wondered if he would ever truly belong here, or if he would always be the outsider, the merchant’s son in a world of warriors.
“Wait here,” the guard instructed, leaving Pepper beside a wooden practice dummy as he disappeared into a stone building.
He didn’t have to wait long before the door swung open again, revealing a towering gray wolf with a scarred muzzle and piercing yellow eyes. The wolf wore no armor, only a simple tunic bearing the keep's crest, but carried himself with unmistakable authority.
“So you're Krolikov's boy,” he said, circling Pepper with a critical gaze. This had to be Sir Alaric Graymane, the Master-at-Arms his father had mentioned. “You’re late. I was expecting you yesterday.”
“My apologies, Sir,” Pepper replied with a respectful bow. “There was a delay at Foxcross Ford. The spring rains made crossing difficult.”
Sir Alaric grunted, neither accepting nor rejecting the excuse. “You know why you're here?”
“To train as a squire, Sir. To learn the ways of knighthood and service to the kingdom.”
“Hmph.” The wolf continued his evaluation, making no effort to hide his assessment of Pepper’s plump figure, or the doubt in his expression. “Your father's letter carried impressive weight with the Lord Commander.” He narrowed his eyes. “We shall see if you can justify such interest.”
From across the courtyard, Pepper noticed a striking red fox observing the interaction. Unlike the other knights, who seemed to have dismissed him already, the fox watched with curious intensity, head slightly tilted. His armor was lighter than the others’, more ceremonial than practical, and a thin scar ran from the corner of his eye to the edge of his jaw. When their eyes met, the fox offered a subtle nod – neither friendly nor hostile, just deliberate – before turning away and vanishing into the crowd.
Sir Alaric snapped his fingers, drawing Pepper’s attention back. “Edmund!”
A young otter squire, lean and quick-looking, trotted over immediately. His fur was damp from training, and a faint smear of chalk dust marked one shoulder. “Yes, Master-at-Arms?”
“Show our new arrival to the squires' quarters and get him outfitted.” The wolf turned to Pepper, his yellow eyes narrowing. “Training begins at dawn tomorrow. Rest well tonight, Krolikov. You'll need it.”
Pepper nodded, unsure whether the words were advice or warning.
Edmund gestured for Pepper to follow. “This way,” he said, his voice friendly if a bit uncertain. “I'm Edmund Riverstone. You're... actually a squire?”
“I am,” Pepper replied, gathering his courage. “…or at least, I’m supposed to be. I’m Petra, though most call me Pepper. I know that most squires are from noble houses, but my father is a merchant, so I haven’t really had a lot of formal combat training up until now.”
“Well, Pepper,” Edmund said with a growing smile, “you're certainly going to make things interesting around here.”
Pepper fell into step beside Edmund, grateful for the friendly face amidst the intimidating surroundings. “Thank you for showing me around,” he said, adjusting the satchel on his shoulder. “What's life like here at the keep?”
The otter’s whiskers twitched with amusement as he led Pepper across the bustling courtyard. “Busy, demanding, and occasionally terrifying – especially when Sir Alaric is in one of his moods. But it’s not all bad. The food’s decent, the library’s quiet, and if you survive the first week, you’ll finally start to feel like you belong, I promise.”
He gestured toward a three-story stone building nestled against the inner wall. Its windows were narrow, its roof lined with moss. “That’s where we’ll be staying – the squires' quarters. You’ll get a bunk, a trunk, and a schedule that makes sleep optional.”
Edmund pointed out the key buildings as they passed: the Hall of Records, where the keep’s history was inscribed on scrolls; the Chapel of the Four Seasons, its stained glass windows depicting legendary battles; the kitchens, from which the scent of baking bread drifted on the breeze.
As they walked, Pepper noticed other young squires pausing in their duties to stare at him. A muscular young fox whispered something to a lean deer beside him, both snickering before returning to their sword practice. One of them mimed a hop, and then played dead, miming a sword through his stomach.
“Don't mind them,” Edmund said, noticing Pepper’s ears drooping slightly. “They'll get used to you. Most of us come from noble families or military backgrounds, so a merchant's son – especially a rabbit – is something new.”
“Are there any other rabbit squires?” Pepper asked hopefully.
“Not currently, although we have a few hares; the few rabbits we’ve had don’t usually last long” Edmund replied. Pepper’s posture sunk – what had he gotten himself into?
The otter, sensing the rabbit’s discouragement, added: “But… um… Lady Hazel Longear was knighted three years ago – only the third rabbit knight in Cliffmore’s history. She serves in the eastern provinces now.” He gave Pepper an encouraging smile. “So that means you have a chance to be the fourth.”
Pepper nodded, the weight of that possibility settling on his shoulders. A chance. Not a guarantee. But that was enough.
They entered the squires’ building, climbing a narrow staircase to the second floor. The corridor was lined with small wooden doors evenly spaced apart. He opened one of the doors to reveal a small common room, with a fireplace, a small sitting area, and four small bedrooms.
“We each get our own quarters – small, but private,” Edmund explained. “Four squires to each common room; there’s no rhyme or reason to it. It’s just me and Magnus in this one, so you can take one of the other empty rooms if you want to be roommates. We usually just keep our doors open, but we won’t judge if you close it for some privacy. The washrooms are all one floor down, though, and communal.”
Pepper pushed the door open to reveal a modest but clean chamber. A narrow bed sat beneath a small window overlooking the practice yards. A writing desk, a chest for belongings, and a single chair completed the furnishings. He didn’t mention that his closet back home had been larger than this space he had been allotted.
“It’s not much,” Edmund admitted, “but it’s home now.”
Pepper set his satchel down at the foot of the narrow bed, taking in the small details of the room. The stone walls were cool to the touch, but someone had hung a faded tapestry above the desk – a scene of the keep’s founding, with rabbits and badgers and other forest folk working side by side. A single candle sat in a brass holder on the desk, its wick trimmed and ready for lighting.
He glanced into the common room, where a battered chessboard sat on a low table, pieces mid-game. A pair of muddy boots – far too large for Pepper – rested by the hearth, and a half-finished letter lay beside them, the ink still fresh. The room felt lived-in, but not unwelcoming.
Edmund noticed his hesitation. “You’ll get used to the noise,” he said, gesturing to the open doors along the corridor. “Magnus snores, but he’s a good sort. Most of the squires keep their doors open unless they’re studying or need quiet. It’s a bit like a family, for better or worse.”
A muffled shout echoed from the hallway, followed by laughter. Pepper peeked out to see a pair of fox squires chasing each other with rolled-up towels, their antics drawing a warning glare from an older badger polishing his boots by the window.
“Don’t mind them,” Edmund said with a grin. “First-years always get the worst chores, but the older squires like to pretend they’re still in charge. You’ll find your place soon enough.”
Pepper nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. He noticed a small shelf above the bed, already holding a few battered books – training manuals, a volume of poetry, and what looked like a collection of local legends. He ran his paw along the spines, wondering which belonged to Magnus and which to Edmund.
A knock at the open door drew his attention. A stocky badger with a friendly smile and bright eyes leaned in, his fur dusted with flour. “You must be the new rabbit,” he said, extending a paw. “Magnus Burrows. I hope you don’t mind sharing the common room with a badger and an otter. We try to keep the peace, but Edmund cheats at chess.”
Edmund groaned. “Only because you never let me play the black pieces.”
Magnus winked at Pepper. “He’s hopeless, really. But he’ll show you the ropes. If you need anything – extra blankets, advice on Sir Alaric’s moods, or the best hiding spots for snacks – just ask.”
Pepper smiled, feeling some of his tension ease. “Thank you. I’m still learning where everything is.”
Magnus gestured to the window. “You’ve got a good view of the practice yard. Watch out for flying arrows in the mornings – last year, someone put a target too close to the laundry line and we lost three shirts in a week.”
Edmund laughed. “And don’t let Magnus convince you to join the midnight kitchen raids. Cook Bristletail has ears sharper than any fox.”
Pepper’s ears twitched at the mention of food. “Is the kitchen really that well-guarded?”
“Only if you’re caught,” Magnus replied with a conspiratorial grin. “But if you’re quiet, you might find a fresh loaf or two left out for early risers.”
The three of them shared a laugh, and for the first time since arriving, Pepper felt a glimmer of hope that he might find a place among these squires – not just as an outsider, but as part of a new, if unconventional, family.
“Oh, and a word of warning about Sir Alaric – he’s particularly hard on rabbits.”
“Why?”
“No one knows for certain. Some say he lost a rabbit friend in battle once. Others think he just doesn’t believe prey species belong in armor.” Edmund shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, I guess. The quartermaster will send up your training clothes and equipment soon, I’d wager.”
“When does training begin?” Pepper asked, setting down his belongings.
“Dawn tomorrow, but there’s much to do before then. Evening meal is at sunset in the main hall. Sir Alaric will introduce you to everyone then.” Edmund hesitated. “Some advice? Don’t mention your father’s wealth. Some here have... opinions about merchants, especially those who can afford to buy their children positions.”
Pepper’s ears perked up in surprise. “Buy? My father didn’t – ”
“I’m not saying he did,” Edmund interrupted quickly. “But others might think so. Just... be prepared.”
As Edmund turned to leave, a young gray squirrel appeared at the doorway, arms laden with folded clothing. “The quartermaster sent these up,” she said, placing them on the bed. “You’ll need to try them on before supper.”
“This is Tilly,” Edmund introduced. “She keeps the squires’ quarters in order, and knows more secrets than anyone else in the keep.”
Tilly rolled her eyes. “Hardly any secrets worth knowing. Though...” she gave Pepper an appraising look, “I did hear Sir Reynard asking about your arrival this morning. Seemed mighty interested in a rabbit squire named Krolikov. That wouldn’t be you, would it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Sir Reynard?” Pepper asked. “The red fox I saw in the courtyard?”
“That’s him,” Edmund confirmed. “One of our finest knights, though he tends to keep to himself more often than not. Strange that he’d take notice of a new squire.”
Tilly shrugged. “I’d best get back to work. Welcome to Cliffmore, Squire Krolikov.”
After they left, Pepper sat on his new bed, overwhelmed by the day’s events. Through the window, he could see knights drilling in formation, their movements precise and confident. Tomorrow, he would be expected to join the training. The thought sent a flutter of anxiety through his stomach, but beneath it lay a spark of determination, one he was doing his best to fan.
He closed his door and unfolded the clothing Tilly had left on the bed, examining each piece carefully. The outfit consisted of a sturdy linen shirt, a padded jerkin bearing Cliffmore’s crest, and simple woolen breeches. There was also a leather belt with loops for tools and weapons he didn’t yet possess.
As Pepper slipped the shirt over his head, he noticed it was surprisingly well-made, with reinforced seams at the shoulders where armor would eventually rest. The fabric felt rough against his fur, but he figured comfort wasn’t the priority for a squire’s training clothes.
The real challenge came with the breeches. He tugged them up over his plump haunches, finding them snug around his middle. After a bit of adjustment and determined wriggling, he managed to secure them with the belt, though his belly bulged slightly over the top.
The jerkin presented its own difficulties. Designed for a leaner frame, it strained across his chest and stomach as he fastened the front clasps. He twisted from side to side, testing his mobility. The padding restricted his movement somewhat, but not unbearably so.
“At least I’ll have extra cushioning when I inevitably get knocked down tomorrow,” he muttered to himself with a nervous chuckle, catching his reflection in the small polished metal mirror hanging on the wall. The rabbit looking back at him seemed almost like a stranger – less a merchant’s son and more... well, not quite a warrior yet, but perhaps the beginning of one.
A knock startled him. “Come in,” he called, still adjusting the uncomfortable jerkin.
The door opened to reveal Magnus again. He glanced at Pepper’s struggling efforts with the uniform. “First time in training clothes, eh? They never fit quite right at first.”
“Is it that obvious?” Pepper asked, giving up on the top clasp of the jerkin.
Magnus laughed good-naturedly. “Mine were worse. Here, may I?” He stepped forward and adjusted the belt, loosening it slightly before repositioning it lower on Pepper’s hips. “The trick is to wear it here instead of at your waist. More comfortable, and the jerkin will sit better too.” He demonstrated with the clasps, showing how to angle them for a better fit.
“Thanks,” Pepper said gratefully as the clothing suddenly felt more manageable. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to move in these at all.”
“You get used to it,” Magnus assured him. “By the way, I was asked to fetch you. Sir Alaric wants all the squires in the eastern courtyard for an assessment before dinner. Says he wants to see what the new recruit can do.”
Pepper’s stomach tightened with anxiety. “Already? I thought training started tomorrow.”
“That’s Sir Alaric for you – always keeping us on our paws.” Magnus gave him a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry too much. First day assessments are mostly to see where you need the most work. Everyone struggles with something.”
“In my case, possibly everything,” the rabbit muttered.
“We’ll see about that,” Magnus said with unexpected confidence. “Rabbits have got quick reflexes. That counts for more than brute strength around here.” He gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”
With a deep breath, Pepper smoothed down his new training clothes one last time. They didn’t fit perfectly, but they would have to do for now. “Lead the way,” he said, stepping into his new life one uncomfortable garment at a time.
That Time I Reincarnated as a Lewd Monster Man Exorcist
The Cave Slime was a lot bigger than the guild scouting party reported. Bigger. Tougher. Stronger. More Aggressive. Was it possible for slimes to be mean? Were Dire Slimes even a thing? Charlotte, as a Guild Receptionist, was tasked with filling out report on the expedition. Was she a member of the Adventurer’s Guild? Yes. But, she wasn’t an adventurer! She wasn’t prepared for this!
So why the hell did the Slime grab both the cute young redhead rogue from the guild and also Charlotte?! If this happened to be some sort of perverted, naughty-tentacle situation, Lin Lin was an obvious choice! After all, the young rogue was barely into her twentieth year: svelt and slim where she was supposed to be and perky where it counted. Lin Lin looked like she belonged in this world. And she had the speed and dexterity that suited her class. Ah, youth was wonder—that was not the point!
The point was that Charlotte, pushing 33, and now an unwilling victim of gravity and a slowing metabolism, was also getting dragged off by the giant blue slime towards what was probably the back of the cave. Hopefully not to die via digestion. Charlotte never would have said she was particularly ugly. But, she was decidedly softer than she was in her first world, over a decade ago in her college days. Especially around the thighs and her stomach. And, well, she just wasn’t quite as ‘proud and perky’ as she was back in the day, even if she had gained a little fullness.
When she first came to the second world, Charlotte did receive a class. Was it a fighter? Or a wizard? Would she get to shoot fireballs and Drago-Slaves like she had always wanted? Hell no. Her class was stated as ‘Lewd Exorcist’ but there was a little asterisk by it. A popup stated, as if making fun of her, ‘You can pacify angry monsters by getting fucked by them.’
All of this had to be a punishment of some kind. Was it because she masturbated too much to fictional characters? Or because she spent her money on custom dildos ostensibly shaped like the genitals of various fantasy monsters? Or was it her secret tentacle kink?
Regardless, Charlotte had decided that maybe she needed a change. Her and eyes had changed to a dark, almost pine dark green. So maybe she should give up the Pervert Life and try to be normal. She decided to forget her class—which was probably just divine punishment of some kind—and get a secure, stable, and less dangerous job.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Charlotte noted that she would have to get a new Guild Uniform. Because the one she wore got all kinds of torn up, and was only shredding more. Some of is was probably just gone.
It was fucking dark, ok? Charlotte couldn’t see anything, and there were no torches or magic stones along the wall to provide any light. For an undetermined amount of time, Charlotte could only feel the tight grip of the slime’s (tentacle? Pseudopod?) around her midsection as it carried her deeper and deeper into the cave.
The worst thing was that Charlotte knew she had bought innumerable erotica stories and hentai doujins of nearly this exact situation in her past world. And it was decidedly less sexy when she thought this really might end in a very painful, very slow death. But, some horrible, horny part of her brain commented that this could very well be a dream come true.
That part of her brain needed to learn to shut up.
I shouldn’t have been such a horn dog, Charlotte thought.
Or maybe I should have not been such a coward and actually learned to fight or something. Anything, she mentally lamented.
Eventually, the darkness gave way to the tiniest light. More, then a little more. And it occurred to Charlotte that the slime was actually taking Lin Lin and herself towards a light source. After a little more time, Charlotte could make out the shape of her hand, then a handful of other, close things in an eerie green light. There, who-knew-how-deep into the cave system, there was a space the size of a small stable covered in strange plants with flowers that cast light.
The Slime dropped Lin Lin into a make-shift cage built from thin, acid-burned lengths of stone. Then, using more strength than it should have possessed, the slime pulled a flat sheet of iron on top.
It tossed Charlotte onto the cave floor.
Or…set her?
That didn’t feel right to say. But, it wasn’t nearly as rough as it could have been, even though Charlotte still ended up on her butt.
Before Charlotte could begin pondering the unique horrors of a Slime that could use tools and pre-meditate its actions, it began to change. She was reminded of play-dough. Or, perhaps, that toy slime that kids were obsessed with before she got pulled into the other world. The slime stretched, twisted, and folded in on itself like a giant, invisible pair of hands was sculpting it. The cool, aqua blue of the creature then shifted into a bright, fluorescent green.
Then the Slime seemed to somehow condense itself into a tighter, more defined form. Eventually, it formed the shape like a person with no fine detail. The figure seemed to have long hair pulled up into a tail, which then split off into a thick pile of slimy green tendrils.
Ah, this must be my lucky day. I’m really going to eat great tonight. With no vocal cords, the slime seemed to telepathically express itself. The words and strange voice just wriggled into Charlotte’s head.
It paused, then turned its featureless, flat face towards Charlotte.
What an expression. Not like she can actually hear me. It laughed.
Unless…she actually can? It seemed amused.
Charlotte must not have been to keep up a pokerface.
Perfect! The Slime’s telepathic voice bubbled.
Half a dozen glistening, featureless tentacles shot forward from the creature.
Hello everyone I'm back I'm sorry it's been so long I had the you know what and didn't have the energy to anything, so now that I'm feeling better I was able to work on some things. Now this is a scene from the new event at least what I thought of when I translated it. The translation it gave me was MC "Moritaka's cute too" and then Moritaka said "MC why are you making me fly" it could be a bad translation but this is what popped in to my head and I thought it was cute, also it gave me an excuse to try drawing characters I haven't drawn yet.
I never really thought about the need for an unashamedly chubby protagonist. I didn’t set out to fill a void. I merely created a character, Antoine, who is content to eat ‘junk food’ and has, over the timeline, gained some weight.
But! - Antoine’s weight isn’t a plot device. There is no crusade to make him skinny. He’s an endomorph. His body puts on muscle (and fat) easily. Antoine will never have washboard abs. He’s 5′10, fluctuates between 200 - 220lbs -- the latter being his maximum allowable weight for the type of helicopter he flies.
He’s strong enough to carry a 75lbs toolbox without much effort. He enjoys hiking and mountain-biking in his off time.
Antoine is a cuddly, chubby fellow. Aside from being within standard as a pilot for an AW-A19 Koala helicopter, there is no reason Antoine’s weight is even an issue.
He’s a normal guy, who accepts himself (heck, he secretly likes the feeling of his familiar paunch), and lives a fairly average day-to-day life. I never saw that as a big deal until I got a PM the other day from a Reader thanking me for creating a protagonist with a realistic body-type.
It’s always humbling to me to see how much my characters can mean to other people; truly.
Here are the full character profiles for Pepper, Oliver, Harlow, and Lillian for my upcoming novel, Shadow and Song. Transcript below the cut.
💬 0 🔁 5 ❤️ 26 · Post by @rourkie · Insomnia is a hell of a thing. I've been working on these lately as well.
These are some of the many c
Petra "Pepper" Krolikov
Rabbit - Squire/Merchant
Personality: Friendly, Curious, Analytical
The son of a prosperous merchant, Pepper arrived at Cliffmore Keep to train as a squire quite unexpectedly, after growing up believing that he was being trained to take over the family business.
Without the noble upbringing or the physical conditioning most prospective squires receive, Pepper is worried that he won't fit in with the other squires. He is eager to try, however, and willing to prove that there's more to him than just being a merchant's son with a husky build.
Oliver Ringtail
Raccoon - Squire/Baker
Personality: Gregarious, Mischievous, Sly
Oliver comes from a family of thieves and rogues. They sent Oliver to Cliffmore Keep to give him a better life than he could have had growing up within city walls. He is coming to the end of his first year as a squire at Cliffmore Keep.
Oliver is decent at fighting, but his true talents and interests lie in Cliffmore's kitchens. Maintaining his squire training while also training culinarily hasn't been easy, but the rewards have been worth it. His mastery as a pastry chef have earned him respect from the other squires and the staff at the Keep
Harlow Leafshadow
Deer - Squire/Scout
Personality: Steady, Dependable, Reserved
Harlow comes from a minor noble family of woodsfolk and land administrators. He inherited the ideals of service to the land and to the realm, and has learned how to survive outdoors in all sorts of conditions. He's a quick learner, and his lean but strong build help him to master weapons forms rather quickly. Harlow is a second-year squire at Cliffmore Keep.
Harlow is always willing to lend a hand to help train the newer squires. His true passion, however, is spending time exploring the woods and land around Cliffmore Keep after daily training is over.
Lillian Swiftfoot
Hare - Squire/Courier
Personality: Kind, Inquisitive, Professional
Lillian comes from a noble family whose main line of work is scholarly pursuit and research. She works part-time as a courrier for the Keep, in tandem with her studies as a squire. She is a second-year squire.
Lillian's lithe form and small stature have caught the eye of the Cliffmore staff, who have placed her in an alternative training regimen based on her speed and dexterity.
Her willingness to adapt to new situations and seek out alternative solutions to problem solving go hand in hand with her passion for puzzles and cryptography.
