#Hunters Unlucky

[ikrutt]

Counting Sheep, 2024

Mousara the sheep herder dreams of joining the wooly cuddle pile. Artfight attack on @peculiurperennial of their lowland curb character.

[gallusgalluss]

been reading Hunters Unlucky n I've been loving it so far. Here's a Storm.

[vveedwacker]

CURB for artfight!!

Curbs are from the series Hunters Unlucky!!

[alhilton]

Legacy Hardbacks are now in my signed bookstore

Cover art by @ikrutt Design, maps, logos and interior silhouettes by Jeff McDowall Size chart, species illos, and some other interior elements by Sarah Cloutier Available in ebook, audiobook, paperback, and hardback :) The hardbacks are so pretty with some extra silhouette art. Iben's covers are spectacular. There's another novella sitting on my Patreon in draft.

[peculiurperennial]

A real scene that actually happened in Arcove's Bright Side.

Trust me.

[skribblepup]

Tollee from hunters unlucky! I regret the halftone dots but too late to take them away :(

[elliejaybird]

Arcove Again

[nineslugs]

Currently re-reading Hunters Unlucky to refresh my memory before reading Legacy and wanted to draw a ferryshaft. I tried to draw one the first time I read the book, but it never quite turned out how I like.

With their omnivorous lifestyle, sharp teeth and hooves I imagine them as having evolved from something like Indohyus that re-evolved a land dwelling lifestyle instead of becoming fully aquatic. Since I can never help myself when it comes to thinking about this sort of thing while reading.

I really like these books! They are well paced, well thought out examples of xenofiction and I heavily recommend them to both newcomers and fans of the genre.

The Hunters universe belongs to @alhilton !

[ashanimus]

Xenofiction Fans: Read Hunters Unlucky

Xenofiction fandom is really stagnant--I think that as impressive as some of the like, warrior cats and wings of fire animations I've seen out there are really impressive I really wish there were other titles that came to the attention of so many talented and energetic people! There's so much creative xeno out there, from the older titles that inspired modern ones, to the modern ones geared more towards adults like Abigail Hilton's "Hunters Unlucky" universe.

i especially like the latter because of how fannish they are, in the BEST way possible. It's one of the coolest combinations of technical skill, lush creativity and the fannish self indulgence that make me really really happy. Its a xenofictional epic with fantasy species and dense with complicated feelings, relationships and emotional processes that are IN the text rather than extrapolated from.

I also have found these books in particular challenging because things aren't drawn in terms of heavy black and white, and the conflict of old generation vs younger ones and the million little well meaning steps that it takes to get to a miserable status quo is REALLY fascinating.

I will add that while the title novel and the follow up are friendly for all that these books are significantly more adult in terms of the themes and content discussed usually described in the genre, especially lately. They're also quite a bit more explicitly LGBT, but perhaps not in the way one might think reading that sentence.

This is a bit of a crap review tbh and I'd like to do something a bit more thought out but I have a lot of feelings and really want people to experience something new, challenging and ultimately really inspiring. I've been turning these stories over in my head like rotisserie chickens.

[swordsandspectacles]

A late-night self indulgent bit of doodling-!

I’ve wanted to do Hunters Unlucky fanart since like… god I think I read the books first in May?

So here we have the start of something I’m hoping to finish.

This was meant to be Storm and Halvery but I think it’s more Charder and Roup, proportions wise. Of course, digital art, easily fixed etc etc…

I discovered that I should have checked the height chart sooner, also. Ferryshaft are taller than I thought, and creasia hold their heads far more upright. So there’s a lot of anatomical fussing to be donw because I destroyed that poor creasia’s chest fixing the head position.

Id assumed the creasia were very heavy around. The shoulders and sort of ‘downhill’ with slightly shorter hind legs (which I will draw some time), it was pretty interesting to see how my interpretation had veered off into a funny direction.

Happy with my Ferryshaft though, and with the relative paces they’re both at. Two steps for the Ferryshaft for every single creasia step- initially I was going to try and make it like… ⅔ of the creasia walk cycle to the two Ferryshaft steps but… I’m not going to think that hard about it this late at night.

Hoping to at minimum clean this up, might even assign it proper characters and colour it, hopefully soon!

[alatoartsalot]

This little curb puppy was drawn for artfight!

[ikrutt]

Animal Shapes, 2024

Monbreir hunting for birds in the moonlight. Artfight attack on @vveedwacker of their ferryshaft character.

[bookshelfpassageway]

In an ideal world I would have posted this with much more heads-up, but today I was suddenly seized with the vision of making an October art challenge for the indie xenofiction book series Hunters Unlucky, and I'd been looking for a good prompt set for myself anyway.

As with all October art challenges, all mediums and interpretations of the prompts are valid, and the outline is really more of a suggestion than anything. Do as much or as little as you please, and rearrange to your heart's content.

Credit to user ibenkrutt for giving me some of the prompts here.

[vveedwacker]

Another Curb!

This is Mousara the sheepherder owned by PeculiurFightFlight !!

[alhilton]

My position on Fan Fiction/ Fan-Make

I've been goaded into actually formulating a policy about this, due to actually finding fan fiction of my work. This is a good problem to have! My policy, here goes -

I firmly believe that fan-creations are a sign of health for any artistic property. I am always flattered when people want to spend extra time in my world and with my characters. There are a few pitfalls here, however, and authors have different ways of addressing them. Here are mine:

Visual Fan Artwork

I am generally delighted by visual fan art (images, dolls, cross-stitch, sculpture, etc) as long as you state clearly in the description where the world and/or characters came from and you’re not trying to sell it without a license. I enthusiastically share fan art when I find it. You do not need a license from me to make non-commercial, appropriately-attributed visual fan art.

Fan Fiction

Text-based fan fiction is a stickier subject. I am not interested in writing in a shared world. My canon is off-limits until I am dead. When my work is in the public domain, knock yourselves out!

Legally, best-practice is for me to pretend not to see fan fiction. I admit that I don’t always do this. However, I am nervous about interacting with fan fiction or linking to it because it is a legal mine-field. I do not want to lose control of my copyrights. (That is my main fear – not that you’ll make money on my work, but that I will lose control of my copyrights.)

Bottom line: if you want me to feel really free to interact with your fan fic and share it with my audience, you need to get a license from me. That license will give you legal permission to create “derivative works.” The license will also say that anything I create that is influenced by your fan fiction is mine alone and I do not owe you money or credit for any ideals that may pop up in my own canon creations due to reading your fan fiction.

If you obtain such a license from me, you are street-legal. This said, I do not promise to read fan fiction, even if you license it. I do not promise to critique it or give writing advice. Fan fiction is a gift to other fans, not to me.

Monetized Fan Creations (here’s where I really differ from other authors)

I am quite tolerant of fans making money in my world as long as you get a license from me first. I’m probably not going to give you a license for text-based stories to be published on retailers. Those have potential to confuse my readers. However, I will happily give you a license for many other kinds of monetized fan creations, including text-based stories in some forms. Unless you are a company, I’m probably not going to ask you for royalties. You can keep whatever you make, and I will happily link your work to my audience.

Examples:

You can sell commissioned artwork of my characters to other fans.

You can sell artwork of my characters printed on merch in places like Red Bubble (t-shirts, mugs, calendars, mousepads, etc).

You can make monetized pod-fic as long as it’s not on retailers and it’s clearly labeled as a non-canon fan-creation.

You can share your stories or art of my world and characters behind a paywall or on a site with advertising as long as it’s properly labeled and my own content is linked.

You can make a game based on my world. (If you are a company or a large kick-starter-backed endeavor, I will ask for royalties, but I’ll be reasonable).

You can make a D&D manual (OMG, please make a D&D manual. I get so many requests for this. I have no interested in making a D&D manual, but I will share yours and you can keep all the money…unless you are a gaming company or a large endeavor with backers, in which case I will want royalties, but I will be reasonable.)

The things you can do are practically limitless. I don’t have time to pursue all the good ideas myself! I just ask that you get a license from me first and link your source material (my books). Email me: abigail.hilton@pavoninebooks.com

If you would like to listen to me talk about this topic at length, you can listen to this podcast episode, recorded 8/31/2024.

[peculiurperennial]

A Sheep-Thief Problem

I recently had the spontaneous urge to write a short story about my Sheep-herder curb, Mousara. It's not very long, and I may or may not continue writing it sometime in the future.

But I thought I might as well share it so that it doesn't sit around in my notes gathering dust.

If you're interested, you can read it by clicking the Keep Reading.

------------------

Mousara ela-Curb had a sheep thief problem. As one of the renowned Sheep-herders of the Lowland curbs living among the southern mountains, it was her duty to ensure that no harm came to the sheep under her watch, until her pack leader deemed it appropriate for the pack to take a portion of the number of livestock available, while leaving just enough sheep left so that they could replenish their numbers.

It was very important for a Sheep-herder to monitor the number of sheep that were culled; too few sheep meant fewer lambs, which meant fewer sheep to feed the pack. If a Sheep-herder lost too much of their flock, there would be severe consequences. Negligence was not tolerated by Mousara’s pack leader.

And so, Mousara did not tolerate sheep-thieves.

At the beginning of the Fall season, Mousara had boasted a flock of twenty-five sheep among the cliff trails. Due to the fact that sheep required ample feeding grounds to graze and forage, Sheep-herders often had to travel quite a distance outside of their pack’s territory in order to maintain their flock.

This was normally not an issue, at least, amongst other Lowland curbs. The multitude of packs living in the southern plains had an overarching rule regarding sheep, and that was that: a Sheep-herder’s right to shepherd her flock where ever the grass grew was sacrosanct. A pack who pillaged another pack’s livestock was shunned and harassed by the mass majority, as sheep-thieves were looked down upon and labelled as barbarians. Less-than-kin. No better than primitive Highland curbs.

So, either Highland ghosts are haunting my flock, Mousara thought bitterly as she counted her sheep for the dozenth time. Or some other sneaky animal has been spiriting away my lambs while I am not looking.

She counted twenty sheep. Fifteen ewes and five rams. She did not factor in the newborn lambs as what she deemed the “Official Headcount” when she told her leader about the number of livestock the pack had. It was a given fact that nearly half of the lambs born this season would not make it to adulthood. And the mothering ewes always put up so much of a fuss if the curbs took away their lambs too soon after they were born.

Mousara had managed to convince her leader that it was better to wait until the lambs were weened before plucking them from their mothers, since the ewes’ paternal instincts only lasted about as long as they were producing milk. After that, they hardly batted an eye at the curbs dragging off one of their own.

Twelve lambs had been born at the beginning of the season. Three of which died of natural causes. However, three more had suddenly and mysteriously disappeared within the same day, without a single trace.

Mousara had tried to track the missing lambs down, expecting their trails to end at a cliff edge, since lambs were clumsy and lethal falls were all too common a fate for the uncoordinated. But instead she found the trail disappearing off in a muddle of other scents that she could not properly identify.

It could have been a rogue creasia who might have been clever enough to conceal their trail, she admitted, but that seemed unlikely. The last group of creasia that tried to scrape out a living in the southern plains had failed miserably, and either all died or went crawling back to Leeshwood. Since then, no creasia had been spotted within the southern plains for the past two years.

It was always possible that an Ely-Ary was poaching her lambs, but lambs were such a meager mouthful to the gigantic birds that Mousara was disinclined to pin one of them as the culprit. Even a small Ely-Ary would find a newborn lamb to be nothing worth eating. Besides, the southern packs and the Ely-Ary living at the peak of the southern mountains had a… Well, it would be rather presumptuous to call it a "treaty", Mousara reckoned. It was more like a “mutual-understanding”. As long as the Lowland curbs avoided venturing too high up into the mountains, the Ely-Ary generally didn’t bother with them.

Mousara had speculated, (mostly to herself since none of her fellow pack mates cared), that Ely-Ary primarily fed on the great fish from the sea. She had seen a skeleton of one such great fish being discarded by an Ely-Ary— the cursed thing had nearly fell on Mousara herself! And Mousara suspected that the overgrown bird had done it on purpose too!

Even now, she could remember the bird’s weird, screeching guffaw as it flew away while Mousara had been busy fussing over her frightened flock.

Anyway, what had she been thinking about again?

“Oh, right, the sheep-thief!” She spoke aloud, to the bemused baa’ing of her flock. It was not unusual for Mousara to speak her thoughts aloud with a sudden abruptness that many of her peers found strange. Usually such instances happened with no regard for the immediate topic being discussed, which resulted in Mousara being subtly excluded from conversational circles, as the parties involved found her spontaneous outbursts to be disruptive and confounding.

Mousara was, admittedly, more than happy to be engrossed within the contents of her own mind. As a Sheep-herder, whose job naturally required one to venture out with their flock away from the pack, this suited her just fine.

“Maybe a ferryshaft…” She murmured as she moved through the throng of wooly bodies.

A ferryshaft sheep-thief was more likely than any of the other potential candidates. Their dispersed herds traveled a lot and some traveled quite far abroad. But a traveling ferryshaft herd produced quite a lot of noise…

“A lone ferryshaft, then.” She decided with a flick of her ragged ear. “Sneaky, sneaky, rogue ferryshaft stealing my lambs!”

But stealing three lambs at once? One ferryshaft meant only one set of jaws to carry away a lamb. Maybe if the ferryshaft took one lamb, then hid the body, before taking more lambs? But why take more than what one ferryshaft needed and risk detection?

Mousara was snapped out of her speculation by a signalling yip from atop a cliff, causing her to pause and look sharply in that direction.

Oh right, she technically had two subordinates. Sheep-herders were hardly expected to tend a flock all alone, after all. However, herding sheep took long and arduous training under a mentor, and most curbs found the task of watching over sheep unbearably dull. So, most of the time, Mousara’s subordinates were comprised of the pack’s younger members who were still transitioning from adolescence to fully mature adults. They had no skill in the art of sheep herding, but they made for good look-outs.

The youngster on watch nearest to Mousara was a scrawny runt of a thing who had a most unfortunate name. Flea.

How he got such a demeaning moniker wasn’t too hard to guess. Flea was a small, ugly dark brown thing with wiry hair and a crooked tail, with a patch of missing fur on the end that never seemed to grow back properly. He also had a propensity for whining and complaining at every and any opportunity.

Nobody liked him, which was most likely why he was conscripted as one of Mousara’s look-outs.

And now here he was, yipping and howling like crazy. The noise was making the sheep anxious, much to Mousara’s annoyance.

“Shut up! Your wailing is upsetting the flock!” She barked sharply as she stormed up the side of the cliff and landed neatly beside the young watcher, much to the latter’s surprise.

“But- I saw-“ The adolescent began before being harshly cut off with a swift cuff to the ear from Mousara’s forepaw.

“And your noise likely alerted the thief and allowed it to escape! Have you no sense?!” She snarled while the other whined piteously. “You should have come down and alerted me quietly about the thief’s presence! We do not posses the support of the entire pack to call upon with your incessant yowling. Use your brain next time, pup! Understand?”

“Y-yes, Sheep-herder Mousara…”

“Good! Now what did you see?”

“I-I saw one of the lambs wandering towards the tall grass. I thought nothing of it at first, it wasn’t that far from the rest of the herd, but then s-something snatched it away.”

“‘Something’?” Mousara prompted. “Be more specific, pup! What snatched it away? Did a ferryshaft poke its head out of the grass and grab it—“

“A ferryshaft? N-no it—“

“Was it a creasia, then? If so, we ought to return to the pack and-“

“It wasn’t a creasia. It-“

“A rogue curb? Ancestor’s bones, when I get my teeth on whatever sniffling coward thought they could steal from my flock-“

“It wasn’t any animal!”

That made Mousara pause, and she narrowed her eyes quizzically at the other curb. “What do you mean?”

Flea licked his lips, clearly overwhelmed and trying to compose himself after having realized he had just shouted at his superior. “It wasn’t- It wasn’t any animal that I had ever seen. It was strange, Sheep-herder Mousara, it was like…a snake, almost. Or maybe- it might have been a large pheasant? It had a small head, I think, and it grabbed the lamb by the neck and pulled it into the tall grass!”

Mousara considered Flea’s words with clear skepticism. “You say that you saw a snake-pheasant…”

Flea had enough awareness to look ashamed at his inability to properly articulate what he meant. “Well, I thought it was a snake… but it could have been a pheasant, though I’ve never seen a pheasant take a lamb before. It didn’t look like it had eyes, though. But then again- I only saw it for a brief moment! So, I don’t know…”

Mousara had half-a-mind to just start boxing the incompetent runt over the ears until he started making sense, when she heard the sound of another curb approaching and turned around to growl at her other subordinate.

“What are you doing away from your post?!”

Varris, a sleek specimen just on the cusp of reaching adulthood, was a much more dependable individual when compared to the likes of Flea. His only fault was that he was unabashedly naive, almost to the point of obstinate ignorance. So, it had been decided by the pack that sending him to do watcher duty with the Sheep-herders would be the surest way to wisen him up, at least before he could get himself killed. He was otherwise expected to be a promising addition to the pack.

However, Mousara disliked him about as much as she disliked most of the rotation of watchers she received to aid in guarding her flock.

“Sheep-herder Mousara, sir!” Varris spoke in a rush, winded from running but obviously excited by the way he practically bounced on his paws. “The flock is running away!”

“What?!” Mousara squawked in alarm, whirling around and ogling in open mouthed astonishment as she watched the last of her sheep disappearing into the tall grass of the valley beyond.

Never in Mousara’s many years of herding sheep had she ever witnessed a flock dive headlong into the tall grass. The docile creatures practically treated any significant amount of thick foliage like it was a solid wall, instinctively aware that their wool made it all too easy to become tangled and thus easy prey to creatures who stalked the underbrush. It was why sheep preferred roaming the cliffs rather than the woods or plains.

“We should go tell the pack!” Varris suggested. “I think this is one of those times where we run away and get more curbs.”

Flea made an unconvinced sound, squinting reproachfully at Varris. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. If our leader finds out you let the flock run away…”

“I didn’t let them run away! If we go now, we might make it back in time with reinforcements before whomever is taking the flock can go very far.”

“I don’t know… Maybe we shouldn’t—“

“MY SHEEP!” Mousara shrieked, diving down the side of the cliff at such speed that her hindquarters nearly pitched over her head. She hit the ground in a shower of loose dirt and ran after her flock without so much as a backwards glance.

Varris and Flea watched as the Sheep-herder went, before looking at one another. A mutual understanding seemed to pass wordlessly between them, before they scrambled to catch up with their superior.