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cheapsweets · 2 months

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The Recondite Haesorog

My response to this week’s BestiaryPosting challenge from @maniculum

Now, I actually have a suspicion what this creature might be - I wasn't deliberately trying to work it out, but when I was throwing around concepts for the drawing, something clicked... If it is what I think it is, it's at the same time a really cool description, with some bits which are wildly out... I didn't pursue that particular line of thinking with my piece this week, but I'm going to be interested to see what this one turns out to be :D

Jinhao shark fountain pen with a fine, hooded nib, with Monteverde Raven Noir ink, over initial pencil sketch. I'm going to do some experimenting with the brush pen and the fude-nib in future pictures again; I appreciate the consistency of the lines that this pen is giving me, but I suspect those other pens would give a little more character to the lines.

As an aside, I'd genuinely encourage anyone looking at these challenges to give it a try; its given me a bit of focus to get back into something I used to enjoy, without too much pressure (both in terms of the time and also this mostly being about fun!)

As ever, reasoning under the cut…

"Ethiopia is the home of a creature called the Haesorog, as large as an ox, with the footprints of an ibis, branching horns, the head of a stag, the colouring of a bear and the same thick coat."

Okay! For such a short description, we've actually got a fairly good amount of detail. Of course, some of it doesn't really make sense together - bird feet with horns and a bear's thick coat? What could be going on here?

I figured that, rather than trying to work out something realistic, I'd actually treat the description at face value as much as possible. As such, we have an ox-sized, deer-headed creature with long, bird legs and feet, covered in shaggy hair! I actually tried to put a bit of deer anatomy into the legs, but they were primarily referenced from ibis photos - I'd set myself on that particular pose, but it was impossible to find a front-facing picture of an ibis with its leg raised (not perfect, but turned out better than I was fearing!)

The horns gave me cause for thought - horns don't tend to branch, but they're very distinct from antlers (antlers being bone, and shed yearly, while horns are covered in a keratin sheath which is not generally shed). In the end, and given the description of it having a deer's head, I went with antlers, specifically taking inspiration from the wapiti (American/Asian elk) and red deer for the grand, branching antlers rather than palmate antlers of the fallow deer I'm most familiar with. I did give them a little texture, as a nod to the horn though.

Charles Knight's Animal drawing was really useful here - the short essays in that book made me consider more carefully some aspects that I wouldn't have just looking at the drawings, including things like ear position, and the general vibe of the animals I was referencing.

Still experimenting with plants and trees for the background - some came out better than others, but I've learned a few more things from this about what does and doesn't work well!

I'm now kinda wishing I'd drawn a fuzzy horned dinosaur for this, but I'm still happy with the directionI went 😅🦖

"It is said that the Haesorog changes its appearance when it is afraid and, when it hides itself, takes on the likeness of whatever is near — a white stone or a green bush or whatever other shape it prefers."

Well, this is cool; an ox-sized animal that is also a master of disguise. You can see my nod to this in the background where a hunting party (plus dog) are walking straight past a Haesorog disguised as a tree...

I did a little look into medieval costume (and dog breeds) from Ethiopia; I know that this is a bit of a catchall term for Sub-Saharan Africa, but it gave me a place to start. Turns out that the figures were too tiny to put in any detail of the clothing (or to make the Ethiopian Highland Dog) distinct, but the history there is fascinating (including Ethiopian delegates to Florence in 1441 being frustrated about the Europeans constantly referring to their kind as 'Prester John' 😆

This seeming magical power of disguise also gave me a couple of extra influences in the style - the forest god from Princess Mononoke, and the goats from that film and from the Nausicaä manga. Not sure how much it came across!

#Haesorog #maniculum bestiaryposting #bestiaryposting #my art

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eleanor-bradstreet · 1 year

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The Hunting Party

Characters: Benedict Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Phillip Crane, Simon Basset, Michael Stirling Rated: T, gun use, inferred violence and a bit of blood Word count: 1.6k

Summary: The six eldest Bridgerton brothers and brothers-in-law make a shocking discovery while hunting at Aubrey Hall.

Author's Note: This isn't really a fic, it's just a single scene that came to me while I was bored on a train. I'm treating it more as a character study of how each of these men would respond in a given situation. Just a silly lil imagining. No tagging, I'm just goofin.

The men moved through the trees, spread in an arcing line, eyes and ears alert. Anthony was certain he had heard something and they were narrowing in on their quarry. It would be a triumphant highlight of their week in the country welcoming the Earl of Kilmartin into the family. He and Francesca were visiting England for the first time since their honeymoon in Scotland, and the rest of the men were eager to test the mettle of their new brother in law, and to show him that the English countryside held as many delights as his native highlands.

It had been Kate and Penelope’s idea for the women to gather in London and send the men off to Kent, to fawn over the newlyweds with their own separate traditions. Anthony and Colin rather suspected that their wives were using it as an excuse for a reprieve, but were happy to oblige nonetheless. So they found themselves, the three eldest brothers and three eldest brothers in law of the prolific Bridgerton family, left to their own devices on the grounds of Aubrey Hall for a week of drinking and shooting and ruthless verbal sparring.

The hunt was scheduled on the fourth day when the weather was mild after a light overnight rain, in hopes that prints may be more easily seen in the soft ground. The men had ridden far out to a remote corner of the grounds, right on the edge of the property. They set up camp, left it manned by two young footmen, then fanned out with their rifles.

Now they were closing in, questing through the trees for the source of the sound that drew Anthony’s attention. Simon and Colin held the furthest edges of the line, Benedict and Phillip between them, and in the center, several paces ahead were Anthony and Michael, the host and the inductee. There was an unspoken agreement among the rest of them that they would let Michael take the killing shot as a gesture of welcome. But their eyes were failing them. They could not see a stag, or doe, or any animal for that matter.

They could all hear something crunching through the brush, growing closer. With a raised hand, Anthony signaled them all to halt and take aim. Each man dropped to a knee, bringing the rifle to their shoulder and squinting down the barrel, waiting, breathless. Michael lowered by a convenient tree stump and rested his arm atop it, holding with steely patience. If he missed, there was no way the beast would escape the subsequent shots from five other trained guns.

The sounds grew louder, snapping twigs, irregular rustles in the branches. The anticipation was palpable as six pairs of eyes and six loaded arms swiveled silently toward their prey. Their fingers wrapped around the triggers, the hairs on their necks stood upright as they tensed.

It was Benedict who spoke first. “Wait,” he said softly as his mind processed what his eyes saw through a break in the trees. Then he stood, calling louder. “Wait! Don’t shoot!”

Heads snapped to look at him, but the rest of the men stayed crouched. Anthony scowled and hissed, “What is it?”

“It’s a woman.” Michael said breathlessly, his eyes locked forward as he too rose to stand. He and Benedict began striding deeper into the green foliage while those further back began to lower their guns and looked to Anthony. The confusing message spread between them - a woman was in the woods.

Indeed she was. Staggering out of a thicket of trees, pushing branches aside, a young, dark-haired woman was making her way in their direction. The color of her green linen dress blended her into the shadows of the forest so well, it was a wonder any of them had been able to see her before they made a fatal mistake. When she looked up and saw the two men before her with rifles, she paused briefly, then continued to stumble toward them.

Benedict and Michael could see now that she was in the throes of distress, crying and panting, her hair mussed and skin smudged with dirt. But most alarming of all, she was bleeding. There was a streak of blood under one eye and a deep gash that ran from the torn shoulder of her dress, all the way across her collarbone and to the center of her chest, running dark with blood that was seeping down into a spreading stain on her clothes.

“Dear god,” Michael gasped as the woman reached out to them pitifully and pitched forward.

Benedict lunged out and caught her, holding her by the forearms as she sank to her knees, sobbing.

“Miss, what happened to you?” He implored. But she was crying so hard, her eyes darting in such terror, that she couldn’t speak.

The rest of the party rushed over and crowded around them with exclamations.

“Good lord!”

“Where did she come from?”

“Almost bloody shot her.”

“What in the hell?”

The woman’s fingers dug into Benedict’s arms as she fought to catch her breath. He turned back to see the others towering around them and practically growled.

“Would you give her some air? Give her a moment!”

The men stepped back, all except Phillip, who sank to a knee beside Benedict and began to peer at her wounds.

“Miss?” Benedict tried to catch her eye, keeping his voice gentle. “Miss, can you speak?”

Hiccuping with shuddering breaths, she looked up at him, deep blue eyes wide with fear. She nodded, swallowing.

“Thank you, sir.” She rasped.

“What happened?” Phillip asked gently.

The woman’s eyes darted between them both, then up to the four others, standing tall with all stares locked on her. It was overwhelming. “Men,” she gasped. “Bandits. They attacked me.”

“Where?” Anthony cut in with a fierce tone.

“On the parish road at the edge of the wood. I was riding to the village but my horse threw a shoe so I was walking, leading him. Then they came out of the wood.”

“How many were there?” Simon’s voice was deadly low.

“Four,” her voice wavered as she trembled.

“Did it happen just now?” Colin asked urgently.

Her eyes moved to each inquirer in turn. “I think so. I have been running but I don’t know how long.”

“Did they have horses?” Simon again.

She shook her head. “They were on foot. Hiding in the trees. They had a knife. They tried to…” Her breath began to heave again as she fought for words. “They tried…I had to run away…I don’t know if they chased me.” She began to sob again.

Anthony’s eyes were burning. He was practically vibrating with fury, looking ready to march through hell itself. “Right.” He bit off. “Simon, with me. We shall track them down.”

Simon nodded and shouldered his rifle with determination.

“I’ll go with you too,” Colin chimed in.

“No!” Anthony barked, then calmed his voice when his younger brother jolted back. “You will collect your horse and ride for the surgeon, understood?”

Colin nodded dumbly.

“Benedict, take her back to the camp.” The Viscount ordered.

“I’ll go with them,” Phillip offered. “And see to her wounds as best I can.”

Anthony turned last to Michael, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Michael, dear chap, I’m sorry for this…unexpected turn of events but…”

“But the hunt just got all the more exciting.” Michael quirked a brow with the hint of a smirk. “I’m going with you. Two against four is poor odds.”

Anthony nodded tightly again, clapped him on the back and started to march off for the road.

“Anthony…” Benedict called out behind him, but his elder brother turned back with the withering glare that said he would not entertain a debate, so he said nothing further. Then the Duke, the Earl and the Viscount hurried off with their rifles, disappearing into the trees.

“We must go, Benedict.” Phillip’s voice made him tear his gaze from his brother. “She is bleeding quite a lot.”

Benedict looked back at the woman still clinging to his arms, wracked with sobs.

“Miss, what is your name?” He asked softly.

She gasped, rattled with despair and exhaustion. She croaked, barely above a whisper, “Imogen.”

Benedict gave her a gentle, lopsided smile. “Imogen. I am Benedict, and this is Phillip.” He tilted his head toward Colin who was tentatively inching closer. “That’s Colin. You’re on the Bridgerton grounds at Aubrey Hall. You are safe now. We’re going to help you.”

She cast her tear stained eyes around at them all, filled with gratitude, as her breath continued to hitch. She was so pale, and so tired and so overwhelmed, as soon as she was assured of her safety, she drooped, swooning into Benedict’s arms.

“Woah,” he caught her awkwardly, but wouldn’t let her fall to the ground.

“Benedict, here,” Phillip produced a handkerchief and pressed it to the gash on her chest before his brother in law was coated in blood. Then he helped him to lift Imogen into his arms and stand, as her head lolled limply against his shoulder. It was only then as her legs hung over Benedict’s arm that they both noticed her feet were shoeless and bleeding too, gashes cutting through her ripped stockings.

“Colin, go now!” Benedict ordered his brother. “Run ahead, we will be slowed.”

Looking a bit dumbfounded but purposeful, Colin dashed off ahead of them back toward the camp. Phillip gathered Benedict’s rifle and walked beside him as they slowly wound their way back through the forest, carrying the wayward woman to safety.

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #colin bridgerton #phillip crane #phillip crane fanfiction #simon basset #michael stirling #bridgerton brothers

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