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The huntress stalked silently through the bushes and she took pride in producing not a sound. Her eyes constantly scanned the underbrush for signs of prey as she moved forward. She disregarded the tracks of smaller animals; rabbits, porcupines, even a deer was not what she was after today. Today, she wanted something more challenging. A bear perhaps.
Yet, as she mused about the possibilities, her eye caught something entirely different, but of no less interest: multiple sets of tracks belonging to a different kind of prey. A smile stole onto her face as she adjusted her heading.
She moved swiftly, but quietly through the dense forest as her mind played through the possibilities. Men did not often wander by themselves, especially not through these woods, not in Kaori. Though she had to admit, a man being chased by three mamono without regard for who might see their trails seemed reasonable enough for the place. Following the trail of the mamono was easy enough, two of them were stomping about without heed, while one of them moved with lighter footsteps. The man’s trail seemed to indicate some experience with moving with care. Still, even had his tracks not been trampled over, the huntress could have followed them with ease.
It took her perhaps two hours to catch up with the pursuers. Two ogres and a nekomata, much like she had guessed. The two ogres were responsible for creating the more than easy to follow trail, while the nekomata was in front, leading the other two along the man’s trail. The cat was either not in a hurry or perhaps having some trouble following the trail, as she led them on at a manageable pace. The huntress silently observed the group for a moment as she creeped after them, weighing her options. She could easily outpace the three and catch up to their mark. Would the nekomata be able to follow her while she carried the man? She could take them down right now, though with no backup or other distractions, that seemed needlessly foolish. The huntress was fond of a fight, but needlessly going up against three unknowns, without a suitable distraction or carefully prepared kill zone was not her way.
A smile stole onto her face as she made her decision, passing by the three mamono unseen. Following the man’s trail was more difficult, but still easy enough for her. She had a good idea of where he was heading in any case.
She caught up after about another hour. She smelled him before she caught a glimpse of him. The smell of man-sweat was difficult to mistake and quite pleasant. He wore worn down, travel stained clothes and looked haggard enough that the huntress couldn’t help but wonder how long the chase had lasted. Although, considering the care with which he picked his way through the underbrush, perhaps he was not aware of his pursuers at all? In any case, his pursuers would be catching up soon enough. Meanwhile, the huntress was content to stalk after him and observe. Aside from his current haggardness, he was well built. Tall, for a human, and with enough muscle on him to suggest that he had not spent his life sitting inside being taken care of.
Every now and again, the man would stop to listen into the wilds, looking around carefully. Of course, he neither heard nor saw her, but she knew that some humans claimed to be able to feel when they were being observed. If such was the case, it was certainly a useful ability for an outdoorsman.
Less than half an hour after she’d caught up with the man, she began once more hearing the trio of mamono trampling their way through the forest. She watched the man intently, curious how long it would take him to notice. That moment came quicker than she’d anticipated, as after once more careful scrutinizing his surroundings, a look of mild panic entered his rugged face and he picked up the pace, throwing caution to the wind.
The huntress knew there was little use in that though. The nekomata at the very least had probably smelled him already and predictably the sounds of snapping branches and rustling leaves were joined by thunderous footfalls.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she heard the man mutter as he let any pretense of caution fall and broke into a dead run.
Of course, a human was never going to outpace a running ogre, much less a nekomata, who was the first to catch up with him and tackle him to the ground. With the chase concluded, the huntress strung her bow and watched as she waited for her moment.
“Was it worth it?” The lead ogre was asking the man after throwing him to the ground and grinding his head into the dirt with her foot. “Did you really think you’d make it to Amarante?”
“Lead you on quite the merry chase, didn’t I, you stupid cunt?” The man shot back.
The huntress suppressed a chuckle. She liked men with spunk.
The ogre, evidently, did not. She was pressing her foot down on his back, making him groan in pain. The huntress frowned. The other two made no move to stop their leader, merely watching. The huntress gnashed her teeth. The plan had been to take them in the night, but she also did not want the man to suffer too much harsh punishment.
After a few more moments of deliberation, she stuck three black-feathered arrows into the ground in front of her and drew back with a fourth.
She fired in rapid succession, yet the smaller of the ogres still managed to jump in surprise after the first shaft took the nekomata in the neck and so was shot in the lower back. The larger of the ogres had managed to whirl around and the huntresses third shaft was protruding from her left forearm. The huntress frowned, drew a bead with her fourth arrow and finished off the smaller ogre with an arrow to the neck.
By then, the larger one had grabbed hold of the man and was holding him in front of her as a shield. The huntress frowned, drew back once more and let fly, but the arrow she had meant to put through the ogre’s leg was deflected by her shin.
“Come out,” the ogre bellowed. “Come out now or I’ll snap him in half.”
The huntress frowned as she considered her options. Experience had shown that she was not the greatest of warriors and she did not relish the thought of engaging an evidently experienced ogre up close. But running away here would bring shame not only upon herself, but her tribe as well.
She adjusted the holsters that held her claws secured to her belt and moved them behind her, where the ogre might not see them immediately. Then she stepped out of the thick brush that had concealed her.
“Who the fuck are you?” The ogre asked, her voice tinged with surprise.
“Nazsnaga,” the huntress replied coolly.
“What the fuck do you want you fucking cunt? You know who this belongs to?” The ogre shook the man violently. “Gila Bittersoul does not appreciate thieves coming after her property. Now throw away your weapons if you don’t want your tribe to die along with you.”
Nazsnaga frowned, then unclasped the quiver from her belt and threw both it and the bow into the brush. Next, she drew her long hunting knife and tossed it aside as well.
Meanwhile, the ogre had started creeping closer to her, still holding the man up in front of her. “You want this?” She demanded, shaking the poor man once more. “Well, catch him,” She bellowed as she threw him at her.
Nazsnaga quickly dashed backwards to avoid the human projectile as the ogre charged at her, heedlessly trampling over the man who had crumpled where he fell. As she moved backwards, Nazsnaga slipped her fingers into the grips of her hand-claws hidden behind her back. The ogre came on fast, swinging a hatchet she had conjured from somewhere. Heavy drops of dark blood fell from her wounded forearm. She dodged two swings and revealed her own weapons, swiping at the scantily clad woman and drawing lines of dark red along her green skin.
As the fight progressed, Nazsnaga came to realise she may have overestimated her opponent. The ogre’s strength was certainly impressive, but her technique and speed were lacking. She’d probably spent her life terrorising people who dared not fight back or who, in any case, could not fight back. More and more dark red lines adorned the ogre’s arms, legs and torso
“Think this is enough to kill me you fucking cunt?” Her opponent bellowed at her as she continued her assault.
Nazsnaga had to admit that, in addition to being strong, the ogre was also tough. The sharp blades of her hand-claws did not penetrate deeply. She’d have to put a lot more strength into her strikes for that and that would put her in very real danger of finding out first hand what a serious strike from this opponent would feel like.
Then she looked behind her opponent and her eyes went wide. “You think I’m stupid enough to fall for that shi- argh,” the ogre was cut off as the man’s knife entered her lower back.
Not wasting the distraction, Nazsnaga shot forward and embedded her right claw in the ogre’s abdomen, cutting upwards. Blood sprayed out of the wound as her opponent let out a whimper and dropped to her back, burying the man beneath her. Nazsnaga quickly slashed her throat for good measure. Then she watched for a few moments to be certain the ogre wouldn’t suddenly grab her and crush her skull, before rolling her off of the man.
Up close, she saw that he was younger than she had estimated earlier, though that could be written up to being covered in blood, grime and weariness.
---
John felt at his aching ribs as the weight of the cursed ogre bitch was finally lifted from him and let out a pained hiss. Then his eyes darted to the uruk, who was standing a few steps away and looked at him with a passive expression. Her sharp features and tight lifted ponytail gave her a fierce visage, not to mention the specks of blood that covered her face and tightly fitted light leather armour. His mind was not put as ease by her appearance. After all, in Kaori you could never be quite sure what someone was about. He pulled the hunting knife from the ogre’s back and pushed himself to his feet, holding out the knife threateningly.
The uruk raised an eyebrow at that, but made no other move as he slowly backed away from her. When he had produced some distance between them, she stepped over to the fallen ogre and cleaned the blood off of her claws using the scant clothing the dead woman had worn. When she was done, she replaced the weapons on her belt, which put some of his worries to rest and finally spoke.
“No need for the knife now.”
“I think I’ll be the judge of that,” he wheezed.
“You can barely stand straight,” she remarked. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“So if you wanted to hurt me, you’d tell me so, huh?”
“If I wanted to hurt you, you’d be hurt. Or more hurt, I guess.”
“Fair enough,” he had to admit. Based on what he’d seen, the woman had little need to trick him, even if he didn’t have trouble standing up straight. He didn’t know much about uruk’s, though he thought he remembered that they cared about honour. His own interpretation of honour didn’t align with shooting dead unsuspecting women. Still, given the circumstances he could look past that.
His fingers let go of the blood slick knife-handle and he let himself sink to the ground. With his resistance, his strength also seemed to have left him. She was beside him in a heartbeat. He tried to rise once more, but she sternly kept him down and began to probe at his bruised torso.
“I’m Nazsnaga, what do they call you?” She asked as she carefully prodded at him.
“John,” John winced as she poked at a bruised rib.
“Nothing’s broken, so you got lucky,” she announced as she finished her quick evaluation of his condition. “What will you do now?”
[i]A loaded question if ever there was one[/i], was all John could think, but said. “I’m gonna press on.”
She frowned at that. “You won’t make it to Amarante in your condition.”
“How do you know I…?” He demanded, but was cut short.
“Your heading and general circumstance,” Nazsnaga shrugged. “I could take you back to my people.”
“Yeah sure, and I’m sure you’ll let me get on with my business once I’m all better?”
“Can’t promise that,” she said with a shrug. “Depends on you.”
He sighed as he considered his options. The fact she was offering him a choice at all spoke well for her. “Fine,” he finally said and hung his head.
“Good,” was all she had to say as she rose and headed off to the brush where she’d earlier thrown her weapons.
He forced himself to his feet and stumbled over to the fallen ogre. “Knew you you were a dumb fucking cunt, Kuuzir. Now you’re also a dead fucking cunt, good riddance,” he spat on her and turned to the uruk who had impassively watched his little rant.
“Personal?” She asked.
“Something like that,” He grunted. “Let’s go then.”
He motioned for her to lead the way, but she snorted and lifted him off his feet. “Not gonna make you walk if you can barely manage it,” she scolded him and started walking.
The trip was less than comfortable, though far more so than if he had had to walk. In spite of her stern visage, Nazsnaga took care to be reasonably gentle as she made her way through the forest. At night they lay together without doing anything and John had to admit that it felt quite nice. Not as nice as home, but far nicer than the last week on the run.
Nazsnaga demanded to know how he’d come to be chased by the party of three and, with some initial reluctance, he told her that he came from a small, poor village. Life hadn’t been easy, but it was a life. Until Kuuzir had come to the village and declared that the warlord Gila Bittersoul had demanded a concubine and their village had been graciously chosen to volunteer him as a candidate. That, or she’d return with reinforcements. He left out how she’d killed his adoptive mother.
When they saw no feasible alternative, the villagers had handed him over. Later, while en route to the warlord’s keep, he’d convinced the stupid ogre that he was enamoured with how she’d shown her dominance and quite eccstatic about his future with Gila Bittersoul and, not seeing him as much of a threat anyway, she’d acquiesced to his request to have his hands untied. A mistake on her part as it turned out when he knocked her out cold with her own mace as she was sleeping. Given the thickness of her skull, he observed that he must’ve been quite lucky to knock her out at all. Probably he should have killed her then and there, but instead, he’d unshackled his ankles, tied her up, stole such supplies as he could carry and threw the rest down a ravine before making for the amarantian border. He hadn’t thought that she could track him, but she seemed to have gone in search of support before entering into her pursuit, which explained the other two women he had not recognized.
They arrived with Nazsnaga’s people after two days and, finding himself still not raped, his estimation of Nazsnaga had grown considerably. The place they arrived at was more an accumulation of tents than anything else, but he heard that uruks usually lived nomadic lifestyles and so it was not much of a surprise. Surprisingly enough, none of the other roughly 40 uruks tried to rape him either, which raised them even more in his estimation. He thought that was quite the civilized thing to do and stood in contrast to their people’s barbarian reputation.
That was not to say that they were unenthusiastic about his arrival. They simply did not try to get in his pants immediately.
Nazsnaga put him in a tent and told him to rest easy until he felt up to determining his future. Whatever that meant. He was tended to by Nazsnaga and a man named Johnny-boy.
“So, Johnny-boy, eh?” John asked the man.
“That’s what they call me,” the man grinned, showing off a prominent gap where one of his front teeth should have been.
“So, can you tell me what she meant by ‘determining my future’?”
“Don’t know much about dem uruks, do ya?” he asked, with a feigned tsk tsk tsk. “Well, I can tell ya, been here a year, still don’t get ‘em.”
“I see,” John said disappointedly.
“Can tell ya ye’re gonna have ta fight Nazsnaga though.”
“Fight her?” he demanded. “Why?”
“Well, if ya win, you’re free ta go. Or ya can make her yer bottom bitch wife.”
“So it’s some kind of ritual combat?” John asked. “What happens if I lose?”
“Then you’ll be the bottom bitch hubby, I guess.” Johnny-boy said thoughtfully. “If she’s interested, that is. Otherwise some of the others’ll take care of ya.”
“I see,” he replied, somewhat confused by Johnny-boy’s shambolic explanation.
Perhaps sensing his doubts, Johnny-boy helpfully elaborated. “See, Johnson’s married to Urlgan. She whooped his ass, but also fancied his ass, sa now she gets ta bruise his pelvis however she sees fit. Then there’s Johnson; He wiped the floor with Murbol, so now he gets ta gape her ring however he wants and she has ta suck it up.” To illustrate, he formed a ring shape from his thumb and index finger and peeked through it. Then he leaned in and whispered. “I heard a rumour she lost on purpose.”
“Johnson and Johnson?” John asked, getting more confused.
“Aye,” Johnny-boy confirmed.
“Ok then. How about you?” John demanded.
“Oh, I disgraced meself,” Johnny-boy said off-handedly. “So any of them get to bruise me pelvis whenever they see fit.”
“And how did you do that?”
“Told Nazsnaga I’ll lick her cunt if she promises not ta hit me,” he shrugged. “Apparently that’s not honorable or something. But I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
What can you tell me about Nazsnaga then?” John probed.
“Ah, yeah. She’s popular with the folks ‘round here, I can tell ya. Brought in both me and Johnson. Bit of a weirdo though if ya ask me. Sometimes calls herself ‘the huntress’ or somethin’. Is out in the forest a lot, always huntin’, not too much talkin’ out of her. Not too much fuckin’ either, actually.” Just as Johnny-boy filled his lungs to continue, he heard his name being shouted from outside and he bowed with a crooked grin. “Duty calls.”
A week passed during which John was allowed to move freely through the makeshift tent-village and talk to the uruks that inhabited it. He also received a much more sensible explanation of what was going to happen next from Nazsnaga.
They would be fighting an honor duel to decide his future position within the tribe or outside of it. If he somehow won, Nazsnaga would at the very least escort him to the amarantian border. He could take her as his wife or challenge one of the other tribe members for the same right. If he lost, she’d be free to take him as her husband, if she wanted him. Johnny-boy’s explanation of becoming a bottom bitch hubby had left him somewhat unsettled, but after meeting the Johnsons, he was somewhat assured that both of them were being treated well enough, pelvis integrity not-withstanding, as he did not check for that. It seemed more a matter of who’d be wearing the proverbial pants in the bedroll and the choice of partner that were at stake here.
She also, none-too subtly, asked him more about himself. Where had he learned to move well in the forest? Was he a hunter himself? Was he fond of hunting? Did he want to become a better hunter? In retrospect, she was asking a lot of hunting related questions. Perhaps Johnny-boy was accurate in his assessment that she was slightly weird. John found it endearing though and preferred to think of it as unique. Stalking the forest together with Nazsnaga didn’t seem like a bad thing to him at all. Probably a better life than he’d have led back in the village. Certainly better than being Gila Bittersoul’s concubine.
And Amarante? Hadn’t that just been a pipe dream anyway?
He stewed over his options as the days passed. Nazsnaga had graciously allotted him a few days even after his bruises had mostly cleared up, but finally the day of the challenge had come. Stripped to the waist, he stood opposite of Nazsnaga, who had decided to forego all clothing and stood naked in the circle of onlookers. By John’s reckoning, most of the tribe was present, including Johnny-boy and Johnson & Johnson.
John limbered up and tried not to be too distracted by Nazsnaga. He’d only seen her fully covered up so far. Her breasts were bigger than he’d thought and now the distinction between her and most of her tribe-sisters were even more apparent. She stood about as tall as himself, though that made her a fair bit shorter than the average tribe member. She was also more limber than most of the others, most of whom were packing more bulk than Nazsnaga, marking perhaps the distinction between hunter and warrior. Still, she looked far from weak as he had seen firsthand when she slew Kuuzir.
He took a bold step forward. If Johnny-boy was to be believed, the most important thing for now was that he did not disgrace himself. He simply had to deliver a good showing. The corner of Nazsnaga’s mouth lifted a little as she mirrored his step.
When they were in range, Nazsnaga threw a lazy punch, which he deflected and responded with a few jabs, which she blocked with her forearms. They continued exchanging blows, but John got the distinct impression that she wasn’t being serious. She was probably just testing him. [i]Well, then let’s make you regret that. [/i] He darted in for a series of quick jabs and punches, then went in close to grab hold of her head and smashed his forehead into her nose. She stumbled back, more in surprise than in pain. He forced himself to keep up the attack in spite of his spinning vision. He came in low and tackled her midsection, hoping to throw her to the ground and perhaps make her concede, but to his surprise, she remained quite stationary.
Not only that, but she prized his arms from her waist and held them out wide, moving leisurely forward until he stumbled backwards and lost his footing. She forced him on his back and bound his arms by placing a knee on each of them.
He looked up at her, her small tusks poking out from her bottom lips thanks to the grin plastered on her face. A small trickle of blood was flowing from her nose, but she seemed not to mind. She placed her hands on the side of his face and bent down to whisper in his ear. “Some hunts are more enjoyable when you let the prey get close to you first.”
She righted herself and asked in a clear voice. “Do you give up… husband?” She smiled down on him once more. Whoops and cheers came from the watching crowd that had thus far been watching silently.
[i]Not exactly how I hoped this would end, but…. [/i] he thought and returned the smile. “Unless you wish to continue… wife?”
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This short story originates with the "Honorary Monstergirl" (HMG) competition of 2022 (https://myanimelist.net/forum/?topicid=2017964)
The HMG is a yearly event where authors can submit profiles for Monster Girls not yet present in the MGE. In several rounds, forum members can then vote on their favorite entries.
Authors are encouraged to write some short stories or vignettes for their entries and winners and runners-up will typically receive vignettes of their own. These will be posted as part of this series.
Uruk
Family: Succubus
Type: Elf
Habitat: Varied (nomadic)
Disposition: Strong-willed, frank, honorable
Diet: Omnivorous (mostly carnivorous)
Uruks (OO-rookz) are often thought of as being part of the orc family even though they don’t display the boar- or pig-like characteristics that are typically associated with that family. Some have argued that they are more closely related to elves than orcs, which can lead to hot debates if such thoughts are voiced in the presence of elves who, more often than not, hold seemingly irrational animosity for uruks.
Through their rugged lifestyle uruks tend to grow tall and muscular. They are easy enough to identify through their skin, which ranges from gray-green to bright green in color. Their long, pointed ears and the tusks that grow from their bottom jaws and often stick out upwards between their lips are further identifying features. Uruks can boast of a good balance between physical strength and agility and an individual's specific disposition will often decide her future path. Magical talents are rare, though not unheard of among uruks. Their lifestyle and values more often than not mean that these talents go uncultivated, however.
Uruks usually live in nomadic warrior tribes of 20-50 individuals organized into strict merit-based hierarchies. The most skilled huntresses and warriors typically occupy the top of these hierarchies, and one of these will almost always have the role of chieftain. As nomadic people, uruks are not fond of large cities; they prefer to stay away from urban areas and live off the land instead. They don’t often trouble themselves with the affairs of outsiders but have been known to hire their tribes out for mercenary work when times are tough. In their function as mercenaries, uruks are quite popular due to their strict adherence to principles of honor, especially in regards to conduct in battle and their propensity to swear and adhere to blood oaths. In spite of this and mostly due to their general lifestyle uruks are often perceived as savages by more civilized mamono. The bonds of kinship within an uruk tribe are tight, and so the worst thing a member of any given tribe can do is shame the tribe through her own dishonor or cowardice. Such acts will be sanctioned with demotion within the tribe’s hierarchy or, in especially serious cases, exile.
An uruk’s courtship is quite straightforward. Most men that end up with an uruk will have come into their possession through battle or as part of a hunt. When a man is caught in this way the uruk who caught him will challenge him to an honor duel, the outcome of which will decide his future position. If the man conducts himself well, his challenger or one of the other high-ranking members of the clan will take him as a husband and he will hold a position of respect, though ultimately below his wife in the tribe’s hierarchy and in the bedroll.
Should the man prevail in his duel through luck or sheer skill he will hold his own destiny in his hands. He may take the warrior he defeated as his wife, and he will stand above her in the tribe's hierarchy. He may also choose to leave the tribe and will be safely escorted where he pleases so long as his destination is within reasonable distance. Lastly, he may challenge any other member of the tribe to an honor duel. If, in this way, he prevails against the ruling chieftain he himself may take the position by taking her as his wife. However, should he disgrace himself through cowardice or other conduct the tribe regards as lacking in honor his position will be that of concubine to the whole tribe; he will be made to serve the baser desires of all its members. Only by redeeming himself through service to the tribe may he be given another chance at an honor duel through which he may change his station.
An uruk honor duel is always fought without armor or weapons and often without any clothing at all.
Name That Mamono: Nazsnaga
Nazsnaga (nahz-NAH-gah) calls all the lands of southern and western Kaori home as her tribe has roamed them for centuries. As daughter of the chieftain she spent the better part of two centuries emulating her mother as a warrior, yet she always fell short of matching the prowess the most skilled warriors of her tribe displayed. It was only after her 187th defeat in as many years that she decided to turn from the path of the warrior to the path of the silent huntress.
Nazsnaga dedicated the next few decades to mastering her new craft, shedding much of her bulk in favor of speed and agility, learning to stalk as quietly as a ghost on the prowl, and working a bow with a skill that would put most elves to shame. Her decision more than paid off as she rose to become her mother’s left hand woman in the mere century that followed. When she is called upon to engage in melee combat Nazsnaga favors a pair of dwarf-crafted bladed claws. Battle is a common occurrence in her life, be it against Kaorian slavers, overzealous Amarantian border patrols, or the prey she stalks in service to her tribe.
Nazsnaga has already passed on two opportunities to claim a man for her own as they did not meet the standard she desires. Her needs are simple, if difficult to fulfill; she wants a fellow hunter whom she can take under her wing so that together they can stalk prey and enemies alike.