#eric thedrial

As GLUTTONY, Eric Thedrial, who is unique on this list for BEING the deadly sin itself. Or the mortal vessel of the demonic embodiment of it, anyway. (He calls it ‘Tony.’)

Born Lord Frederick in the 1600s, Erick lived a life of particular luxury and opulence in his parents’ castle. He had a gift for music, a way with the ladies, and a ludicrous sweet tooth. Of course, this kind of life is supported by many, many hardworking poor who live lean and struggle…

One summer a few of these types had enough and hired a witch to wreck havoc on their oppressors. They targeted the Thedrials’ beloved eldest, an especially shameless, smug young nobleman. She beckoned a demon into Erick’s body via poisoned wine, his edacious predilections attracting a monster in kind.

Of course these things never go as you plan… Gluttony ripped out of Erick’s body, twisting them into a giant ravenous hydra that indeed destroyed half the castle grounds, but also carried on to lay waste to the succulent farmland, becoming a recurrent regional nightmare.

While totally killable, the immortal pair are unable to stay dead, reanimating time and again after being slayed. Erick was eventually taken in by sympathetic witches who wanted his monstrous cycle to end as much as he did, helping him learn to dominate his infernal passenger and spend less time in monster form.

Nearly four hundred years later, modern-day Eric is in full control of Gluttony, with the exception of obligatory stints as a (much smaller, much less scary) monster to keep it fed. (We’re probably catching him on a snack run ahead of one of their episodes here.)

Eric is one of the nicest guys you’ll meet, his heart has outgrown his stomach by miles. Left alone he wouldn’t struggle with overeating, in fact he would love nothing more than to never eat anything ever again. But when you ARE the deadly sin you gotta make the deadly sin list– sorry, mate!

(Eric’s demonic possession is a retcon, for my old followers. Much more info on this coming later!)

Modern-day Eric and his doggos! Bacchus is an enormous malamute who likes to eat almost as much as Fluffers. Gula is a Bernese mountain dog and a spaz. And Andante is a blue merle corgi and the oldest.

Also a rare drawing progression cuz I never remember to save that kind of thing.

Thank you to the people here who have been enjoying posts on my characters! I’m… not really sure how to respond to comments in-thread on tumblr without making like a post? Is that a thing here?

Way back in the 1600s, Eric’s younger brother Johannes was a hunter with a gift for training animals. The Thedrials’ castle was home to half a dozen of his hounds at any time. Eric only took a passing interest in them.

But ever since Johannes’ death, Eric’s been in the habit of having a dog or two whenever circumstances allow, partly in memory of his bro and partly because his curse has often made his life a lonely one. Good bois don’t judge their hoomans for being demonic vessels, especially if they share foods.

Eric currently lives on a few quiet acres in the countryside where he has a small farm and orchard. His often turbulent existence as an immortal monster finally settled down about sixty years ago and he’s amassed a decent pile of savings and life is good. He’s semi-retired, composes for a living, working out of his home as much as possible, and grows and preserves a fuckton of his own food to help with the costs of feeding his giant monster self.

The dogs live an idyllic life, running circles around their master outside during the day and conking out in a literal dogpile with him in the living room in the evenings.

What do they think of Eric in monster form? He adopts puppies to accustom them to his second form early, so they don’t think much of it. It’s unclear if they know he’s the same person. They don’t think he’s a dog. They DO have preferences… Gula loves walks so she’s more inclined to human Eric while Bacchus is almost as gluttonous as his master and knows there’s gonna be more food happening when monster Eric’s around. Andante is ambivalent, maybe smart enough to know Eric and Fluffers are one and the same.

Sometimes it hits Eric how much of his 395 years have been spent feeding canines. He’s had a LOT of dogs. You might think they come and go in an instant for him, but time’s never really worked that way for Eric. If anything, their short lives help him slow down and mark out the years.

.5% of you will be happy to know I’m making a conscious effort to write more, and to write in actual story form. Planning to make myself illustrate each written thing before I share it cuz I need practice in both mediums!

In this one, you eavesdrop on Cornelius and Eric mutually bemoaning life as part-time monsters, get a taste of Eric’s curse, and accidentally see a corner of Cornelius’ dirty laundry.

It was a sunshiney day on the isle of Ahjeea Ki. On a balcony of the Montrey Mansion two old monsters watched the glittering bay, bickering over who had it harder.

‘Fur sheds.’

'Gills itch.’

'Getting your tail closed in train doors.’

'Have you seen my tail?’

'Fair. Uh, claws are murder on your phone screen?’

'Same.’

'Curses.’

The speaker leaned back on the railing and switched tactics. 'Hell. I know you don’t love this body on you, but lookit you! Sleek and tall, cool and intimidating,  you’re in excellent shape…’

'I’m perennially ill, freezing at all times, waterbound, and you try having this giant awful tail.’

Eric Thedrial laughed out loud. 'Trade you for a belly that beats you into the next room, mate!’

'You, you’re all fuzzy and cuddly-’

'You’d wanna be fuzzy n’ cuddly?’

'Not personally. Merely saying you are approachable.’

'It’s the fat. Anyway, folks should be MORE afraid of a round monster than a skinny one, one of these is a better hunter.’ He turned back to the bay. 'Pft, hunter. The fearsome hunter of fast food, that’s me. Anyway, you’re hardly even a monster monster, Cornelius Montrey.’

A snort from the big blue amphibian.

'No! Really. Where are your horns? Cloven hooves?’ He clacked a foot against the marble of the balcony.  'I am a monster. A big, beastly, hairy, drooling brute. You are like…’ he raised a pinkie claw and mimicked Dr. Destastiel’s voice, ‘an enhanced evolution of the human form.’

Cornelius snorted at the (admittedly good) imitation of his partner. 'If by 'enhanced’ you mean 'trash at everything.’ Clumsy on land and in water, on two legs and four-’

'You seen ME on all fours? Er, sixes?’ Eric corrected himself, glancing at the sky and wiggling the claws of his four hands.

'And I have this mouthful of deadly virus juice-’

'My spit eats through plate glass, friend. Hey, at least YOU can shift between human and otherwise whenever you want! And you don’t have to immediately eat a corner grocery store.’

Cornelius broke into an actual laugh. ‘Alright, granted. But you know full well I can’t change whenever I want. Also I have to spend most of my time this way whereas you-‘

‘Have a psychotic voice in my head badgering me to eat everything in sight twenty-four-seven and have for nearly four hundred years and will until the end of Time?’

'When you put it that way.’

‘You have draconian charm, Cornelius. This shape suits you. A sea baron indeed. And you’re so young. You’ll grow into it. As for me… well, perhaps I shouldn’t say.’

‘Go on.’

‘Just that the terms of my curse were to make my insides my outsides.’

‘Sounds painful.’

‘No joke. Anyhoo, that is to say… well, it’s a bit embarrassing TO say. This body is, save the horns and hooves and hunger which belong to you-know-who… who I AM.’

‘Heavens, Eric. Anyone could tell you that.’

‘Wha? Yeah?’

‘Of course it is. You look exactly like you are.’

‘Oh. That bad?’

The sea monster scoffed and looked away. 'It’s all the things my sister sees in you.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’m not going to give you a list.’

‘Awww, c’mooon!’

‘No.’

‘Fine. I know myself. As does Penny. I’ll say frankly I wouldn’t mind all this,’ he said running his claws through his mane, ‘if it weren’t for the uh, eating disorder and associated infernal passenger. But it’s been my life for some time. Used to be much worse! Amazing what you can get used to, eh?’

‘Rather.’

‘There must be SOME things you enjoy about your second self?’

Cornelius continued studying the bay for a while. ‘Being tall is kind of fun,’ he conceded.

‘There it is!’ Eric punched his arm. ‘Right? And YOU can even fit through doorways!’

‘Don’t start up again.’

‘Deal. Hey, this will come as no surprise but I am peckish. You wanna grab a food? Penny should be just about back.’

‘Why not. By the way, you should know the staff utterly adore you.’

‘Oh?’

‘It’s ridiculous. They’re completely bored with only Mother and I here most days. Your appetite’s like catering a party, they live for this. Mind yourself. They will pamper you silly.’

Eric smiled and rocked on his heels. To no one in particular, he said quietly, ‘I don’t know about you, but I could go for some pampering, wot ol’ boy?’ His eyes flickered bright orange and he chuckled. He caught Cornelius watching him curiously. He winked, one eye returning to blue. ‘Tony says hi.’

‘Uh, good day.’

‘It would also say, ‘thank you most kindly, Master Montrey, for allowing us to visit your beautiful home and clear out your larders now and then,’ if it had any manners, which it does not.’

‘My treat,’ he said slowly, watching Eric’s mismatched eyes. ‘Does it talk? Gluttony?’

‘Never shuts up. Nothing interesting, though.’

‘Try me.’

Eric rolled his eyes and fussed with his sleeves. ‘Just constant bellyaching about food. That’s all it is, you know. Hedonistic hunger incarnate. It’d have you believe you’re starving to death while you are eating. It’s a frustrating roommate.’

‘Your eyes just there…’

‘I don’t really love talking about-‘

‘No, no.’ Cornelius wagged a webbed claw at him. ‘No, you can’t corner me up here about myself and then deny me a question or two. Can it speak?’

Eric smirked. ‘You really want to go there?’

‘You are, Penny assures me, my future brother-in-law. I should like to know the man my only blood is engaged to.’

‘Well, you won’t get that from Tony. Just… urgh. Don’t judge, please.’ He squeezed his eyes shut and snarled quietly, ‘And for heaven’s sake behave your goddamn self for once will you?’

Cornelius puffed up indignantly. ‘What?!’

Eric opened his eyes slowly. Luminous orange orbs without pupils. He had hunched, his four hands curled into claws, fingers twitching. His tail lashed as he appeared to scan the room. He- it, Cornelius realized- smelled the air deeply, two deep, long pulls as if drawing on a pipe, before exhaling with satisfaction. It chuckled quietly, deep in its chest.

‘Mm. Hay comida aquí, Theeedrial. Abajo. Montonesss.’

Ok… so it spoke Spanish. Fine, so did Cornelius. He cleared his throat and switched languages.

‘Master Tony, I presume?’

Eric’s head twisted to face him, a robotic motion, bird-like. It twitched.

‘Corneliussss,’ it breathed, grinning. Copper-colored smoke rolled out of its mouth.

Cornelius steeled himself as Eric’s body prowled towards him, dropping for a moment to all six limbs as if bipedal motion challenged it. It rose to face him, uncomfortably close, a full foot taller. He could feel their heat. And their breath… smelled like nigiri and red wine?

‘It iss not often we are invited to sspeak.’ The demon’s voice was Eric’s- what else should he have expected- but with an oiliness and a deep tiger’s purr. A voice he immediately distrusted. It had locked eyes with him above a frozen, fangy grin and was otherwise failing to emote. Cornelius found himself unusually speechless.

‘Theeedrial says we have not mannerss but,’ Gluttony cocked Eric’s head, ‘we DO thank you, Corneliusss. For your hospitality. This mansion remindss us of our castle, sso long ago. Sservants tending to uss. And the KITCHENSS,’ its grin widened well beyond the bounds of proper anatomy as it drew Eric’s tongue across their teeth, catching some drool, ‘HOW do you nOt indulge yourrrrrrRseLf consssssstaNtlY?!’

‘It’s… not my thing.’

Tony coughed up a laugh unblinkingly.

‘Oh yesss, perhapss not meals no,’ it said, settling back into its eerie stillness and twitching. ‘But we are pleassed to sssense that you ARE a man of indulgence, yes, yess, Corneliusss? No stranger to the ssweet abandon of the bottl—‘

Eric’s eyes flushed blue.

‘Enough, Tony.’

Eric straightened and backed out of Cornelius’ space, drawing an arm across his mouth.

‘Sorry ‘bout that.’

‘Not at all,’ Cornelius said. He carefully relaxed his fins in the vain hope maybe Eric hadn’t noticed them standing rigid.

‘Tony is… well. Personal restraint is not Gluttony’s strong suit, let’s put it that way.’

‘I wouldn’t have thought. Is that strange for you?’

‘Being moved around by another thing in your head? It was once. Again,’ he winked, ‘amazing what you get used to. Anyway, everyone kind of knows the feeling. We’ve all got… our thing.’

Cornelius turned back to the bay with a cough.

‘Did Penny tell you about my, uh…’

‘Oh, no. No, no. I mean, yes. But not before I already knew. Sincere apologies, Cornelius. We’re kind of the patron saint of excess. Tony can sense- smell, literally- things like, ah… alcoholism.’

Cornelius raised a sharp eyebrow at the seascape.

‘N-not that you ARE, or that you have a problem, I just… I mean… No. No, I’m sorry, friend. I can’t sugarcoat it. I’m afraid I know without question that you are.’
He joined his fellow monster meekly at the railing. ‘Hey, for what it’s worth, I am the LAST person on the planet who can judge. Look at me! Half my brain isn’t my own! Trust me when I say I know addiction. It hangs its coat in my head. That,’ he faked a twitch, ‘damn twitching of Tony’s? Withdrawal. Constant, unending withdrawal.’

Cornelius sighed quietly. His fins hung slightly wilted. ‘Nevermind it, Eric. It is what it is. But speaking of such things, Tony’s breath…?’

‘Oh,’ Eric chuckled. ‘That. Yes. It’s a quirk of ours. Consider it a tiny taste of Gluttony’s power. What was it for you?’

‘Sake nigiri and… wine.’

‘Ooh. Yes, it’s different for everyone. It’s piña colada and hot wings for your sister.’

Cornelius gagged.

‘I know, right. And if you weren’t hungry before, you are now, after breathing that in.’

‘Why?’

‘Are… you not?’

‘Not particularly.’

‘Oh. Odd. Well, maybe not odd. Many people with strong wills seem to be immune. Most people get terrible munchies.’

Cornelius scoffed. ‘Do I have a strong will?’

‘Oh, come now, sure you do. Of course you do. Willpower isn’t like some big umbrella thing. We’re all weak and strong in different places. Hey. I won’t tell a soul. But if pride allows, you should maybe get some help. I had to climb out of a HELL of a hole myself, a very literal coming to terms with my addictive personality. You just met the devil! So I know something about these things, if you are interested.’

‘I will consider.’

‘Good!’ The monster clapped all four paws together. ‘Bueno, even! Excelente Español, by the way. Tony is just like the worst part of me cut off and frozen on the day I was cursed. Three hundred and seventy years and it’s never grown out of our native tongue. Creature of habit, eternal.’

‘Does it see everything you do?’

‘I mean, it’s me. But frankly it only really pays attention when food’s involved.’ On cue his stomach growled enormously. ‘Yes, yes,’ he growled back. ‘We were headed that way, weren’t we. Cornelius, if you don’t mind, I am apparently starving to death.’

‘And I could use a drink. Lead on… brother.’

Yo! So Thedrial’s been under the knife a fair bit this year. Visually speaking, wanted to make him more obviously a monster and bring in themes of immoderation and demonssss to suit his updated story.

If you haven’t met Eric, he’s a 395 year-old aristocrat who basically got targeted during a class war and cursed with demonic possession. The idea was he’d publicly rip apart his own family and friends and it would inspire commoners to rise against their beastly, filigreed oppressors. The revolution fell flat, but the scheme did succeed in deeply changing the tune of at least one nobleman.

Lord Frederick Thedrial lost his future, his family, his humanity, and his free will all in one go. The thing he used to turn into was much, much scarier than this fluffy idiot, a giant drooling hydra controlled entirely by the demon in his head. He got chased through the countryside by mobs and murdered several times, occasionally by people he used to know. Nobody knew the monster was him. They thought he was dead. Well, everyone but the revolutionary ringleaders, and two witches.

Aiden and Jessabelle were the great-great-great granddaughters of a powerful regional witch. The same witch the proletariat had commissioned to curse the hell out of Eric. (Into, as the case may be.) They helped her prep the spell, and Aiden was the one who personally snuck it into his wine.

The plan was, on the witches’ side, to let these peasants pay them to curse this spoiled young lord, watch as he rampages across the countryside, and then get paid again by the peasants to uncurse him when they realize the demon doesn’t stay dead when you kill it. Hell, maybe even get a handsome sum from the lord himself in gratitude for freeing him from his terrible curse.

But it all went awry. Firstly, the denizens of Nimisia turned out to be more stubborn, or cheap, than expected, and after quite a few weeks of clashing with the monster still hadn’t approached the witches for a countercurse. Wouldn’t have mattered. ‘Gran,’ chose that month to finally end her very long life, leaving her brewing house and inn in the hands of Jess and Aiden. Their struggle to assume command of the business was complicated by a total lack of clientele, as the local rampaging monster had put a damper on travel. The beast had purportedly taken up lurking in the very forest the inn bordered, so the sisters set out to catch the mad lord and end his suffering, one way or another.

Eric turned out to be easy to bait and catch. They zapped him into human form and dragged him to the inn. A very upsetting week was had by all when the sisters realized either Gran hadn’t written down the countercurse or they had lost it. Eric, who had just started getting used to not being a giant hungry monster all the time and was feeling the first glimmers of hope, was crushed. They let him live in their barn for a while and kept his demon fed in exchange for him helping out around the inn.

It became apparent that reversing his curse was going to take some serious doing and Eric began to settle into his new life. The further he got from his old ways the more control he had over his monster self and how often he became it. Using his cursed form he built himself a clumsy cabin in the forest nearby and started growing his own food.  As his aristocratic snobbery and dandy daintiness and raw resentment of his cursing melted away through days of labor, Eric revealed himself to be a very friendly, funny, talented young man whom Aiden completely loathed and Jess actually fell in love with.

Did they ever uncurse him? Well, it’s 2021 and he’s still around so…

—–

‘Gluttony’ the ‘demon’ is actually just Eric’s animal-brain weakness for over-indulging sliced apart from him and granted its own consciousness and form.

It IS properly a demon in a sense. Because what is a demon but a scapegoat invented to excuse ourselves from a part of our natures. THEY tempt and THEY mislead, THEY bubbled up from HELL, certainly not from our own brains.

This is why Tony is cryptic when asked about demons, hell, and the universe. It doesn’t know anything that Eric doesn’t know. And funnily enough, it never refers to itself as a demon, that’s all on other people. Eric doesn’t remember why he started calling it Gluttony except that’s clearly what it is. Tony takes readily to things impressed on it, just accepted its name and that it ‘is a demon’ and never refutes or disputes anything. It is a one-dimensional slice of Eric’s nature. It only cares about consuming.

It takes a long time for Eric to realize and accept that what he thought was a predatory parasitic monster come to torture him is just his own bad habit given a voice. In a lot of ways the former would have been easier to swallow. It’s harder to feel like the victim when it’s just you versus you, and you are kinda an ugly thing, and kicking your own ass.

Any classically-demonic traits the pair exhibit in monster form are rooted in the cultural understanding of what a demon was in the 1650s when Eric was cursed. Their monster form reflects what’s going on inside Eric, which at the beginning was an overwhelming and wholly unchecked drive to consume and total rejection that he was guilty of anything, hence the giant hungry hydra with heads he had no control over. As he accepted he had- or should have had- control all along, the rampant extra jaws came under his command. As he began to suspect the truth that Tony IS him and not some foreign being, go figure the heads started to go away until it was just two, and then one.

Probably this beautiful moment of enlightenment and wholeness of self was the moment he was to be miraculously relieved of his curse… but the person who knew the countercurse had died. Oopsie.

Fast forward to the modern day, and annoyingly, while Eric has loooong since moved on, Tony has not. So while most of their present monster shape reflects Eric’s warm and fuzzy spirit, they still appear with horns and cloven hooves. More annoyingly, the WORLD has not moved on, the belief in hell and its inhabitants continues, and Eric’s monster form would raise a lot of eyebrows in public. One of many reasons he keeps its existence private.

—–

You can’t really get mad at Tony, it’s just a dumb animal doing what dumb animals do. Eric quickly came to see it as a small child or an aloof cat more than a demonic entity. It is simple and shallow, and, while it has borrowed an eloquent tongue from its host, it is only apeing whatever wit it demonstrates.

Modern-day Eric treats his infernal passenger very much like a dependent partner, understands it as a part of his life, albeit an annoying and sometimes very unfortunate part. He tries to enjoy his transformations and even celebrate them a bit because there’s no point being down about this quite literally permanent part of his existence.

For its part, Tony has never hated Eric, although the opposite has often been true. It doesn’t seem to hold grudges or take anything personal, so the only ‘fights’ they’ve ever had have been contests of will over control.

Tony will say it likes Thedrial well enough but will always be confused why he fights his nature, why any human fights their nature. To eat is to live. To live, is to eat. There is literally no higher purpose than to consume and no greater punishment than that which awaits those who fail in this. Anything sundry tacked onto a life is frippery and frills. Don’t ask it about moderation, it will launch into grandiose arcs about how you would not ask a flame to be moderate, you would not ask this of joy or of love or gratitude or any other lesser impulse, and EATING being as it is of the upmost importance in thy own survival- you astoundingly confused mortal creatures- should CERTAINLY never be burdened with the insufferable and insulting bonds of bitter and pale temperance and for that matte–

And this is where Eric cuts it off and swallows a pie for it to go focus on.

Friends are often disappointed they can’t have a basic conversation let alone a relationship with Tony. Eric just reminds people Tony is more like an animal companion than anything. Like a pet tiger. To be respected for its power and never to be fully trusted, but will mostly be friendly and lazy if you keep it fed.

Eric vaguely dislikes being talked to in the plural, finds it demeaning. Tony is very rarely listening anyway. He allows this from girlfriend Penny who means it well. It makes him blush. He’s conflicted on her reaching out to Tony and attempting to have a relationship with and love this other part of him. She often brings Tony snacks. Who is easily bought with food and loves her very much. They’ve never EVER had anyone respond this way to them before.

—–

Modern-day Eric is extremely kind-hearted and generous. But, while usually the master of the pair, is still subject to occasional forced shapeshifts.

Tony is a constant presence in his head, continually mumbling and muttering about their next meal, becoming especially obnoxious at restaurants and grocery stores. If Eric is tired, stressed, sick, or such things, Tony is always standing by to overpower him and instigate a snack attack.

They play a balancing game, where Eric intentionally surrenders to Tony- in the safety of their home, with their stockpiles of food- once or twice a month. If he doesn’t, the pent-up demon eventually becomes a maddening pressure in his skull and will explode out of his face the next time they see a cupcake. Not fun.

Their demonic form, once a disgusting, nightmarish force of nature, now reflects Eric’s kindly heart and inner peace far more than it does his hellish parasite. They are waaaaay cuter and fluffier than any self-respecting demon should have to tolerate, but those tables turned on Tony a long time ago.

You still get a taste of the horror when they first transform, though, Eric’s skin splitting open as his body grows long and lanky, a boney muzzle pushing out of his face, glowing orange eyes sinking deep in their sockets, becoming for a moment the famished, skeletal form of the demon starved. Give them half an hour and about six hundred pounds of food, though, and they fluff up into the big orange idiot we know and love.

Eric is essentially tipsy while transformed: clumsy, impulsive, giggly. Not out of control by any means, just a bit fuzzy and impaired by Tony’s parasitic claws in his brain. He has to concentrate extra to focus on anything. Between this brain fog and his giant clawed paws these episodes disrupt his work and that’s as annoying to him as anything.

Eric can’t directly control when he turns back human. It can be hours, it can be days. While transformed, Tony has some advantage on him, its usual mumblings becoming vastly more seductive. Tony’s influence isn’t strong enough to cause him to hurt anyone, but definitely strong enough it’s hard to stop snacking constantly.

He can, if he’s fed Tony recently, start to transform and then pull himself back as a spooky parlor trick or scare tactic– if he’s feeling confident he’ll be able to stop himself.

—–

K, you made it all the way down here, let’s do the fun stuff! Notes on the above-pictured monster, affectionately dubbed 'Fluffers’ by his friends.

- Even in his most approachable form, Fluffers quietly sports an unhingable jaw and prehensile tongue. His tongue is hollow, somewhere between a trunk and a leech, and he can drink through it like a straw.

- Despite having four ears, his hearing is nothing special.

- All his brain power goes to his ludicrously powerful nose. Eric can practically see with his snout, navigating a room and knowing exactly where everyone is and who they are and probably a great number of other things about them they would be uncomfortable about. He can also literally smell certain emotions like fear and relief, and can detect disease and malignancy. These things are occasionally useful and one of the few reasons to ever take this form voluntarily. The redundant nostrils halfway up his muzzle are similar to a vulture’s, super-sensitive and constantly reading the air around him.

- Eric’s normally pale blue eyes flicker orange whenever he’s tempted by or drooling over something. They become pupil-less, glowing orange orbs when Tony is in control. Certain friends enjoy teasing him to try to get his eyes to turn.

- Goes without saying his sense of taste is out of this world. Even mildly decent food blows his mind. Sometimes he breaks down sobbing. Very gratifying to cook for, he will LOVE THE SHIT out of anything you serve him and lick the plate and often eat the plate (sorry). Fluffers is kind of intense around food. He can be a lot.

- They can digest anything in monster form- sticks, stones, steel, rotten and poisonous food. The rule is if Eric can choke it down his throat, the black hole that is Tony will make short work of it. That said, Tony runs this show, and Tony likes nice things. It isn’t satisfied by eating clutter and will aggressively hold Eric hostage in monster form until he shapes up and gets them real food.

- When a transformation goes well, Eric actually honestly enjoys a few things about his other body. It’s relaxing to not be low-key mentally fighting off Tony all the time, this form is extremely comfy and he loves being a soft fluffy thing especially for naps, and he REALLY enjoys the bonus arms, misses them a lot as a human.

- Fluffers starts out only a bit taller than Eric, not even 6’. Usually around the time Tony is satisfied enough that Eric can slow them down, he winds up around 9’. But their appetite in monster form is bottomless and this form is capable of growing INDEFINITELY.

- Literally if Eric teamed up with his demon instead of suppressing it, they could blow well past their dinosaurian hydra form of old into an all-consuming plague on the world, threatening the existence of the planet itself. But this wouldn’t happen, because they would definitely get murdered early on and more importantly Eric would never allow it.

- One of the side effects of housing a demon in your body seems to be permanently constricted pupils- miosis- which is more commonly associated with drug abuse or brain damage… HMMM. Eric doesn’t like to discuss it. His colorful glasses were chosen to distract people from his slightly arresting eyes. If you push it, he will tell you he’s just addicted to opioids.

- It’s hard to make the call, but Eric’s favorite foods may possibly be beignets, chouquettes with chantilly cream, and cheetos. Not usually at the same time.

- Tony’s favorite food is everything.

Lol.

Once a year I like to see if I have become randomly good at realistic portraits without any practice whatsoever from the previous year. Sharing this anyway cuz whatever, it exists. And an excuse to drop a text wall about Eric and a bit of his updated background!  

His curse and monster form have been updated as well, coming up next~

Lord Frederick Thedrial was a 17th century Nimesian composer and virtuoso pianist known for his lively, playful compositions, colorful social life, and untimely death.

It was quickly apparent to Erick’s family he was a virtuoso. He performed on the harpsichord at his parents’ parties before he was ten. In his teens he traveled frequently, his performances in high demand by fellow aristocracy. Whenever he was home, his parents housed the best teachers in their castle for his instruction. The young pianist occasionally traded lessons himself to royalty for access to their social circles and salons.

Thedrial’s unique style effortlessly married the soaring flourishes of contemporary chamber music with a bright-eyed, merry bounce all his own. ‘At moments even humorous, but at all times elegant.’ His compositions were both accessible to a general audience and the envy of artists.

His music reflected his personality. A notorious party animal, famous across the continent for throwing extravagant galas between his handsome income and his family’s bottomless gold. These invariably included the much-loved ritual of getting Erick completely blitzed and then having him perform his own work (more or less). Not a few contemporaries were seen blinking back tears of spite (and perhaps awe) in the corners of these parties to witness that, despite barely being able to stumble to the keys, Erick’s wine-soaked musical genius still exceeded their own.

His indulgence extended into his love life, in which the composer took no particular lover but had numerous affairs with students, teachers, members of his own orchestra, and really any lady who returned the twinkle in his eye at a party. Admired for his disarming humor, clever conversation, and mischievous charm.

But perhaps nowhere was Erick’s decadent nature more resplendent than the table. The young lord surprised, disgusted, and delighted companions with the sheer amount of meal he could put away. He was particularly fond of baked sweets, which his working quarters were stacked with at all times. Many joked the sweetness of his music flowed directly from the composer’s stomach. Gluttony is not a secret vice, and, despite being of modest height, Erick more than filled out piano benches. (It was quipped he didn’t write duets for this reason.)

Erick was loved and celebrated by his parents, and his adoring younger brothers Leopold and Johannes. Worshiped in the artistic community. Had many close friends in important circles. Sought by aspiring students, major venues, and thirsty ladies alike. A bit of an up-and-coming 17th century rockstar.

Not so impressed was the local working class. Aristocratic opulence was at its very peak during Erick’s life, with an unprecedented void between the rich and poor. Social revolution had flared in neighboring kingdoms, emboldening elements in Nimesia. Many spat that Lord Erick was the very incarnation of this opulence. He was held up as evidence that this latest generation of their oppressors was prepared to casually take their privilege well beyond an insulting level. He was bitterly resented as a fat, smug, and spoiled parasitic leech on humanity.

In the fall of 1654, a peasant uprising was timed to coincide with Erick’s 28th birthday festivities.

Revolutionaries attempted to seize control of the nearby town, meeting in blood with royal forces. Things were smashed, things were stolen, things were lit on fire.

And at the Thedrial’s countryside castle, a rather nice outdoor buffet was abruptly interrupted by a GIANT RABID DEMON MONSTER appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

The nightmare beast reportedly cleared the courtyard of all edibles before mauling any guests who’d failed to escape the area. Blademaster Leopold led the guards against the thing while Johannes evacuated party-goers. The hellish creature tore the courtyard to rubble before enough stab wounds silenced it. They say its body boiled eerily away into copper smoke.

Among the dead were two foreign nobles, Erick’s best friend, and Erick Thedrial himself. He was deeply mourned by his family and the musical world. The uprising failed to take control of the town and deepened the rift between classes. It did however send a message the working class was not without teeth.

The popularity of Erick’s music faded somewhat after his death, lesser artists taking up his style and running with it. His work is not well-known today outside of classical music enthusiasts, who lament the murder of one who was otherwise on track to have been among the great composers. He is remembered in musical history for redefining the style of orchestral music in his age.

Oh, but history so often gets it wrong. Little do they know now that the murderous monster who wrecked the party on that fateful day WAS Erick Thedrial. And that, after his own brothers and guards unknowingly cut him to ribbons, he didn’t die that day. Indeed he couldn’t die. And he hasn’t. He can’t.

And in 2021 (^ as pictured), Eric lives on the outskirts of the capital with his three dogs, a lucrative if hermitic musical career, a fuckton of secrets, and the undying, edacious demonic entity that shares his mind and body.

Oh, and he’s dating Cornelius’ sister.