sketched out yesterday during furry roundtable, finished today. done without refs, but with a clear idea of a strong-framed, juicy, busty, friendly saberwench. :) and some saberbard being interested in her motherly roundings. and everything else, really.
the bard's name is Parsit of Opherdicke.
he's one of many traveling bards, carrying music, news, messages and sometimes diplomatic duties. he sings, rhymes, plays lute, flute, guitars, and girls (but he never lies to them, as he will be gone the next day most of the times, so don't get too attached... there will be another time, though), and you can make him happy with a warm place and a proper meal with beer or mead.
and now here, in this restaurant one day's walk away from that backwater town he doesn't really want to go to (but has to, because diplomacy, y'know) he finds this big girl of a wench, soft voice, soft forms, and strong enough to balance a fried boar on one hand and seven kegs of mead in the other... and suddenly he has ideas of family and children and whatnot.
Shamiras family owns the restaurant, being part of a little settlement with six farms and one little tradepost. all of her people are tall, strong powerhouses, and most are decidedly overweight from momma's cooking. Shamira herself makes a ragout nobody can resist, and a cousin makes the beer to wash it down with, so there are always enough guests, often making it a habit to leave the town down the valley in time to reach the restaurant when the first batch of ragout is ready.
of course she noticed the bard, Parsit (what a strange name, she wonders where he's been born), and his definite attention directed at her body and the face, too. he's not the first one being interested in her cushions, and she doesn't mind a night or two spent in the hay storage up above the stable. he seems to mean it serious, but she knows full well people like bards can't stay in one place for long. he would wither away like a bundle of bakou in a vase, and she can't let that happen... he has a cute face, and his voice makes her fur stand on end, and his sense of humour is just what she likes, but keeping him? ina cage, even? she can't do that, so she has no illusions... but there is hope. hope that he might show up again one day.
until then she shall feed him, and drink him, and losten to his songs... and maybe something more. time to talk to Kisalla about switching shifts.