Family: Rodent
Type: Beastman
Habitat: (Sub)tropical rivers & wetlands; cities near water
Disposition: Laid-back, mellow, care-free
Diet: Mostly vegetarian, e.g. water plants
Capybaras are social semi-aquatic mamono who live in herds (sometimes called meditations) of five to ten individuals that are usually not blood related. Members of a meditation cooperate closely and tend to share everything with their meditation-sisters… including a husband. While their original natural habitats are (sub)tropical rivers and wetlands they’re not too bothered by colder climates. They have adapted well to civilized life and hence have spread far and wide, though rare is the capybara who does not live close to a body of fresh water. Capybaras have a mostly a vegetarian diet of fruits and vegetables and are especially fond of aquatic plants. Many capybaras like to grow their own food, and they are especially skilled at aquaculture.
Capybaras are the largest and heaviest members of the rodent family. Most individuals will easily grow taller than 183 cm (6 ft). Their height is not the only thing large about them, for their bosoms tend to be big and heavy, too. Often they are a bit chubby. Their only obvious monstrous feature is a pair of ears which matches their animal namesake’s, but they also have internal adaptations that aid a semi-aquatic lifestyle. For example, their body fat acts as an insulator which allows them to stay in cold water for prolonged periods, and they can hold their breath for up to ten minutes while remaining active underwater.
Capybaras take the mantra “slow and steady wins the race” to heart. They consider tending to their crops to be more than enough exercise for the day and prefer to spend their spare time on low-energy activities like lounging about, meditating, reading, socializing, or, if they feel creative, drawing or writing. A favorite group activity for a meditation of capybaras is visiting a spa or hot-spring where they can bathe and relax for hours on end.
Capybaras have a knack for social interaction and are generally very well-liked by their fellow mamono. They are especially good listeners and are always willing to lend a sympathetic ear and offer what advice they can give. Their demeanor causes people to quickly trust them, and many a secret is shared with the capybaras. Since discretion is also one of their strong suits most secrets are safe with them. The more intelligent capybaras make for excellent therapists and mediators. Being such a highly social species does mean that capybaras do not cope very well with being alone. Perhaps that is why it is common for a meditation to welcome lonely mamono into their group and treat them as if they were family.
Capybaras have a strong “live and let live” mentality and hence are known for their laid-back and care-free personalities; they rarely judge people, which creates a safe and calm environment for everyone who comes to visit them or lives nearby. They tend not to get fussy about many of the pet peeves other mamono might have and rarely get upset even when they are being wronged. One has to royally screw up before a capybara gets agitated. Their chill personalities can rub off on others and help them to calm down and de-stress.
Dating a capybara usually means dating her entire meditation. Thankfully they are low maintenance girls and don’t suffer from envy, nor do they need much to be happy. Also, they do not put high expectations on their spouses. While for some this can be liberating and a break from the stresses of life, for others they might appear as lethargic and lacking ambition. Thus capybaras are ill-suited as wives for highly ambitious or active people, but they are excellent matches for people who have only modest ambitions or whose preferred lifestyle aligns with the capybaras’.
Capybaras gravitate towards the slow and gentle kinds of intimacy. They actually prefer three or even foursomes over one-on-one so that they can envelop their partner with snuggles while they take turns. Furthermore, they do not like to rush the sex, which usually translates to them preferring extensive foreplay to slowly build towards a powerful climax. As semi-aquatic mamono it should come as no surprise that they have a thing for partially submerged sex. Capybaras go into estrus (heat) two or three times a year for a few weeks where they not only crave intimacy more than usual, but they also are more fertile. While they are certainly not a majority, kinky capybaras are not that uncommon either.
Name That Mamono: Dot
On the surface Dot is a fairly unassuming capybara with dark brown eyes and chin-length auburn hair. She dresses fairly conservatively, typically a button-up blouse and a long skirt, but that can’t hide the fact she is a buxom woman. The only hint that she might be much less innocent than she lets on is the skin-tight pink choker around her neck. She lives with her seven-woman meditation on the riverfront in Hajiokagawa -- the second city of Kioko. While most of her meditation-sisters are typical aquafarmers Dot works in a large harbor warehouse as the stock manager. Her job is to mainly keep track of the warehouse’s inventory and tell the dock workers what needs to be moved where and when. While not at all a muscular woman herself Dot is truly fascinated and turned on by the sight of muscles straining and relaxing on other people. This is one of the main reasons why she has picked up massage as a hobby. She is very well liked by the dockworkers, not in the least because of her always being keen to practice her hobby whenever there is a lull in the workload. While Dot gets plenty of female attention from the burly dock workers she sure would like to practice her hobby on a man too… a “happy ending” might be included. If she is ever so lucky as to find a husband she looks forward to sharing him not only with her meditation but also with her dockworker friends and colleagues.
The folidotas (foe-lee-DOE-tuhz) are a rarely mentioned and even less frequently seen form of mamano. A folidota is covered in large, overlapping scales covering her head, back, legs and feet ranging in color from light to dark browns. Their keratin scales not only offer great protection, they provide excellent camouflage as well. This camouflage is most useful, as folidotas tend to be solitary; they prefer to keep their own company and keep interaction with other mamano to a bare minimum. Folidotas are among the more diminutive mamano, rarely exceeding a height of 165 cm, and are said to be physically only slightly stronger than a moderately trained human. Folidotas prefer to live in forested environments where they dig burrows deep into the earth or beneath the roots of large trees.
When the scholar Lucile van Kant developed the fourth iteration of her report on the demographic distribution of mamano across the continent neither she nor her aides came across a single account of a folidota having been seen over the past 50 years. This lead her to categorize them as presumed extinct, only to be proven wrong when one came to live in a small hamlet near the deep woods of Elizabeth. Her mate had convinced her that life in the forest was a bit too solitary for him.
The folidotas’ elusive and solitary nature produces a predictable conundrum. They prefer to have a man all to themselves and will be loathe to enter into any kind of arrangement that entails sharing a partner with another mamano. When they do come across a man in their isolated parts of the woods they will attempt to convince him of the benefits of living with her, as she is well accustomed to her environment and will not struggle to support them both -- he would have to get used to a diet of small animals and insects, however. As this man gets used to his new life he will eventually take on the role of protector and provider, as folidotas have an uncanny ability to evoke a protective instinct in men. When it comes to initiating intimacy the man will most likely need to step up to the plate, as most folidotas’ shy nature will lead them to have difficulty doing so themselves. Though there are few accounts, it is said that a man might find great enjoyment from a folidota’s long tongue.
Name That Mamono: Polly
Polly is nearly 200 years old and can proudly say that, aside from her mother and father, she has only four times interacted with other sapient creatures. She would have dearly liked to add a fifth to the list, but the man she came across a week prior had been snatched up by a harpy while she was hiding nearby debating the best way to approach him. She told herself that he seemed the social type in any case and would have been a bad fit for her. Polly dreams of one day meeting a man who is just as averse to social interaction as she herself is, but she recognizes the need for patience. The center of the deep woods is not a place where one should expect to meet many people. That was, after all, the reason she lived there.
Polly likes to spend her days curled up in her cozy burrow-home and is out and about most nights to hunt for small rodents, rabbits and tasty insects. It’s as simple a life as it gets, and that’s just how Polly likes it.
GHOST SHIP
Family: Magical Material
Type: Ghost
Habitat: Oceans, docks, seasides
Disposition: Aggressive, ferocious, protective
Diet: Spirit and demonic energy
A ghost ship is an evolution of the ghost down a separate path from that of the phantom. They have a wide variety of appearances due to the shape-changing nature they share with the doppelganger. A ghost ship’s appearance ranges from humanoid to mimicry of another mamono type, but it is always an extension of what the ship was before it monsterized or became possessed. Her body is the ship itself, so a ghost ship may take on variations of her form as she wishes and it may change depending on how her hull was used. A sunken mamono cutter, for example, would typically be a rough-and-tumble type of mamono while a merchant ship might be crafty and keep the purse strings tight.
Like other ghosts their bodies are incorporeal; they can phase through bulkheads and decks at their leisure. Ghost ships can disembark from their hulls, but the further they get from their true bodies the weaker they become. They can somewhat mitigate this by carrying a token from the ship, but that only goes so far. Eventually the spirit must return to her hull and to the sea. On her hull she is far more corporeal than she is while off it with the ability to touch and grasp as she pleases. She cannot touch anything outside her ship, much like other ghosts, and the farther she gets from the ship the harder it becomes to even see her, so she tends to stay close to her hulk.
The ship itself is the heart of a ghost ship’s domain. They can control every facet of their ships -- every rope, every board, every door, and every sail -- and they are exceptional navigators as the instruments of navigation are embedded in their hulls. Ghost ships have extensive knowledge of the ocean and its maps and currents. They are even capable passing through storms unharmed, and they have been seen conjuring gales to steer them where they want to go. A ghost ship is most often seen at the leading edge of a storm where she can travel the fastest. The supplies on a ghost ship seem to never run dry; food stores remain fresh and plentiful and the water remains clean as a lure to invite people to stay. Aside from where they reside they have minimal differences from other ghosts, and as such they have a tendency to overindulge in a source of spirit energy once they find one. They feel best when at sea, and they revel in the joys of the ocean. A ghost ship always takes her name from the ship she was in the past; she will incorporate it into her soul as a last memento of her crew before her destruction, and it can be some of what dictates personality or appearance.
Ghost ships use their partially corporeal state when off ship to lure in men for energy. In the same way that ghosts implant thoughts of sex a ghost ship implants a longing for the sea in those around her to lure mamono and humans alike aboard her craft. They hire mamono as deckhands and will often offer a human free passage to wherever it is they might be going, and will even go so far as to protect humans from the rest of the crew. They seem crass and aggressive in this way, but unlike other mamono they never eat proper meals because they don’t need food. The ship feeds from the various mamono and humans on her deck merely by standing there; as they are making contact with her real body she can siphon off what she needs. In this way she will feel complete.
When the voyage is done and the mamono and humans disembark the ghost ship will feel lonely. She will often work harder to gain another crew or tempt the previous crew back with offers of treasure, be it from piracy or a lucrative trade deal. Unlike the captain who kept her distance before she will be far more accommodating on the second trip, getting closer to the crew and any humans aboard and going so far as to pull or invite a human into her cabin, where her heart and soul is and where she is the most solid she can be, to finally indulge in what she had been missing.
Name That Mamono: The Sanguine Storm
The Sanguine Storm (a.k.a. Lady Sanguine) is a pirate vessel that was lost to an underwater reef near Sulfite Bay. She is a twin-masted ship from the Kioko region. Her humanoid form stands 165 cm (5' 5”) with glowing green eyes and long red hair in curls down her back. An underbust corset covers her body alongside long trousers and boots. Her prized token is a large tricorn hat that once belonged to the captain of her hull, and she is almost never seen without it. Lady Sanguine is an optimistic girl with an insatiable lust for adventure and gold. She is always ready to brave a storm, no matter the size or severity, to see what’s on the other side.
GOLTHIAR
Family: Alraune
Type: Plant
Habitat: Forests, jungles, swamps
Disposition: Gregarious, single-minded, lustful
Diet: Sunlight, water, and nutrients from the soil; spirit energy
The golthiar (GOAL-thee-arr) is a rare kind of mobile alraune. Their skin is soft and pliable like grass while their hair is leafy. Golthiar average about two meters tall with willowy builds, but they're not hothouse flowers. The golthiar are soldiers, and they take their duties seriously.
As plants golthiar don't -- indeed, can't -- eat solid food. Instead they root themselves in the ground while they sleep in order to derive nutrients from the soil. They require plenty of water (more than humans need) and at least two hours of sunlight each day to remain healthy. They are also vulnerable to cold. Like ordinary plants they breathe carbon dioxide and exhale oxygen. Most golthiar adore kissing, and thanks to the ability of a golthiar and a non-plant humanoid to supply each other with the gases they breathe they can go a long time without coming up for air. Their skin is resilient enough to act as light armor, and their strength is roughly equal to that of lizardmen. Golthiar vision extends into the ultraviolet; they have excellent low-light vision and can discern far more colors than humans can. Their sense of smell is superior to that of the werewolf family. While surprisingly fast and agile for plants golthiar capability in this area is inferior to that of an athletic human.
Golthiar have the unusual ability to perform reverse photosynthesis. They can communicate via light pulses, sometimes in frequencies that humans and most other mamono can't see. They can also project blinding flashes or even searing beams of light (but not true lasers) as a means of offense, but overusing this ability rapidly depletes their reserves. An experienced golthiar can emit rangefinding pulses that allow her to judge distance and windage with great accuracy. This ability makes them some of the best archers in the world.
Golthiars' instinctive grasp of small unit tactics makes a sibling squad -- called a grove -- a frighteningly effective team. Many groves support themselves with mercenary work, but they sometimes turn to banditry. Nor are the two mutually exclusive. Golthiar often patrol the wilderness seeking lost humans, and any human found by such a patrol might be drafted into marriage. Golthiar have no problem sharing with their squad mates, but any other mamono will have to earn the grove's trust or she'll have a fight on her hands.
Golthiar reproduce by bearing fruits that, after nine months, fall off and bloom into tiny copies of their mothers. The rare golthiar futanari have both pistils and stamens and are equally able to be "pollinated" by human men or "pollinate" human women. A futa golthiar's human wife drops a seedpod instead of giving live birth, and the babies burst from the seeds up to an hour later. Either way a typical birth yields four to six sprouts. If multiple members of a grove bear fruit at the same time the newborn groves may join together into a larger group called a copse. Having such numbers creates a fighting force that even adult mamono would be wise to avoid, and when fully grown a copse of golthiar is truly a force to be reckoned with.
Name That Mamono: Licaria (lie-CARE-ee-uh)
At 190 cm (6’ 2”) Licaria is an intimidating specimen, and she doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of that fact. She hasn’t lost her grove, exactly. She knows where they are, she just can't get to them. She insists that she and her sisters are innocent of the crimes that landed them in prison in that dwarf city. Carrie and her grove aren't bandits, they just “borrow” things from time to time. As for the escape attempt, it was sheer luck that Licaria made it out when her three sisters were recaptured. Her mission now is to spring her grove from jail and get them all far away from that city. She could really use some help, though... and she wouldn’t mind if that help is cute.
GRAHANA
Family: Spirit
Type: Elemental
Habitat: Anywhere on the surface
Disposition: Warm, passionate/Calm, strong-willed
Diet: Spirit energy, ambient demonic energy
Dark:
Light:
A grahana (grah-HAH-nah) is an elemental mamano that embodies the endlessly repeating cycle of night and day. With the break of dawn a grahana will take on a “light” state in which she will be wreathed in light that she can, at will, brighten to incandescence or dim to the point where it is barely noticeable to the casual observer. Her hair will be a snowy white while her skin will be a dark bronze tone. When the sun sets the grahana will enter her “dark” state. The light that wreathed her during the day will fade and instead she will be cloaked in shadows that billow around her in an uncanny way. Her hair will turn from its previous white to raven black and her skin will turn pale as though it had never been touched by the rays of the Sun. Unlike the light which she is wreathed in during the day the shadow surrounding her cannot be fully dissipated, which makes it easy to recognize a grahana for what she is during the night. In exchange she can deepen the shadows surrounding her and make it billow out from her body to the point where a room might be entirely engulfed in it. With the exception of her changing day and night attributes a grahana will appear as a human woman, albeit one of ethereal beauty.
Just as a grahana’s appearance undergoes a change when day turns to night her disposition is influenced by this change as well. During the day grahanani (grah-hah-NAH-nee) tend towards being warm, passionate, and straightforward in the pursuit of their goals while at night they tend towards being calm, careful, and calculating. In the same manner a grahana’s aptitude for magic changes depending on her current state. In her light state she’ll generally have a higher aptitude for light and fire magic, while her nightly form enables a higher aptitude towards mind and shadow magic. This does not mean that a grahana in either state is incapable of using the other state’s magic, only that her ability to learn and wield such magic is enhanced while in the matching state. Another special characteristic of the grahana in her night state is that she can easily establish a mental link to any living creature touched by her shadow.
When it comes to courtship a grahana’s approach varies wildly depending on her current state. The light state will be direct in the pursuit of the target of her affection while her dark state might take a more roundabout approach and try to ensnare a man with patience and calculation… but her best chance comes from combining the strengths of her distinct states. She might use her night side’s shadow and aptitude for mind magic to learn about the needs and desires of the target of her affection and then put that knowledge to good use as her passionate and straightforward self during the day. A man or woman being courted by a grahana might at first be confused at interacting with what seems to be two distinct women, but as they get to know her better they will find that regardless of her current state she is still the same person. Additionally, as their relationship deepens, they might find that the change becomes less pronounced to them while everyone else still perceives the difference to be literally like night and day.
Name That Mamono: Lux Noctis
Dark:
Light:
From a young age Lux was determined to follow in the footsteps of her mother, a well-known healer in Bestallion. Lux tends not only to physical ailments, both great and small, but also helps her patients by soothing the maladies of the mind. Her mother has mentored her all her life, but just over one year ago Lux decided that it was time for her to step out of her mother’s shadow and make a name for herself. Now that she lives and plies her trade in Alnor there is little that gives her more satisfaction than the feeling of being needed, which she gets to experience whenever she heals one of her patients. During the day Lux often fantasizes about a man coming to her clinic and falling in love with her radiance after entreating her for help, but during the night she dreams of ensnaring him with secrets and seduction. Alas, no available man has yet stepped through her door, but she won’t abandon hope soon.
LAAK
Family: Lizard
Type: Reptile
Habitat: Wilderness or urban areas in temperate, tropical, or desert regions
Disposition: Sneaky, family-oriented, lustful
Diet: Carnivorous; spirit energy
Laak (lah-AHK) are the smallest members of the lizard family; it would be easy to mistake them for children if they weren't as developed as adult women. The colors and sometimes patterns of their skin and hair vary to blend in with their habitats. Laak are best known for lacking the martial skills of their kin. They are skulkers rather than warriors... but it would be a mistake to call them harmless.
Laak have superhuman physical ability, but not in strength; the strongest laak are weaker than the strongest humans. Their reflexes and agility rival those of feline mamono, and they are excellent climbers with superhuman running speed. The average laak can leap a distance of three times her height with ease or jump over a human's head from a standing start. Their surface coloring, small size, and naturally quiet movement make them amazingly stealthy. To take advantage of their protective coloration laak wear as little clothing as local custom allows -- because of this they are in the habit of traveling light, and they avoid cold climates. If a laak relocates to a different region her protective coloration gradually shifts to match her new habitat. The change can take anywhere from a few days to several weeks depending on the degree of change required.
Despite their athleticism the true danger of laak lies in other qualities. Laak are resistant if not immune to all natural toxins, including the venom of other mamono, while they themselves can deliver a paralytic venom with their bite. The second and much greater threat is the fact that laak are rarely alone -- they travel in troops that consist of sisters, mother and daughters, or some combination thereof. One laak can catch small animals, but a troop can bring down prey as large as buffalo. Their preferred hunting tactic is to spring onto prey from ambush, bite, and retreat to a safe distance until the venom incapacitates their meal. The fact that the meat is full of poison means that laak rarely have to worry about other predators stealing their kills.
Laak play the mating game as a team sport. In the absence of human males the most submissive member of the troop becomes a futanari for her troopmates' pleasure. When the troop finally finds a man they'll stalk him -- sometimes for days -- to test his suitability as a mate. If he meets with their approval they'll herd him into a good spot for an ambush and pounce. What follows will be an all-night orgy fueled by the laaks' venomous saliva, which is an aphrodisiac and stamina enhancer in humans. The troop will take turns ravishing the man until he is exhausted or they are. If he can satisfy them all without passing out he will become the troop's alpha and they will obey his every command... but they'll do so in their own devious way and might intentionally misinterpret his orders in ways that get them more sex. Even when they've been tamed by a husband laak remain sneaky and lustful.
Name That Mamono: Qyamel (KIE-uh-mell)
Qyamel -- "Mellie" to her family and close friends -- is part of an urban troop that consists of her, her two older sisters, their aunt, and the aunt’s daughter. All five of them have pale skin and hair to blend in with the stones of their home city, and Mellie has gorgeous bright green eyes. Qyamel typically wears a bikini-like garment in deference to local custom and a pair of sturdy sandals to protect her feet, but she gets naked as soon as she enters the troop's nest in one of the city’s parks. As the youngest and least assertive member of the troop Qyamel is a futanari. Despite being a tiny girl -- she stands all of 150 cm (4’ 11”) -- she packs a member that, when fully erect, would make a porn star proud. When not erect it's barely visible. Qyamel, her siblings, her aunt and her cousin are the only surviving members of what was once a much larger troop. Mellie doesn't like to talk about what happened to the others, but she seems to carry a great deal of guilt about it.
LIVING FILIGREE
Family: Armor
Type: Magical Material
Habitat: Ruins or old buildings such as manors
Disposition: Ferocious, belligerent, clingy
Diet: Haemoglobin, human spirit energy
Living filigrees are very rare but highly dangerous parasites that typically appear as unassuming simple shiny metallic ornaments or pieces of armor such as torcs, wide cuff bracelets, vambraces, or greaves that are strangely alluring. If worn by a female, preferably a human or a mamono with a mostly humanoid body like a kitsune or succubus, the living filigree will parasitically infest the woman. If worn by a male he will similarly be infested but also turned into an alp.
A living filigree will bind itself to a host by shrinking down so that it cannot be removed. Then metallic tendrils will sprout from the ornament and grow over her skin. Similar tendrils burrow into her body and anchor themselves inside her with thousands of barbs. The tendrils specifically look for an artery to latch onto. Initially only a small portion of the host’s body is infested by the living filigree, but it will continue to grow and expand, albeit at a snail’s pace, by feeding on the haemoglobin in her blood. This sends the host’s blood production into overdrive and causes the woman to develop a voracious appetite for iron rich foods like red meat or spinach.
Being infected by a living filigree comes with many tempting upsides. First and foremost the host is rejuvenated to her prime, her aging is halted, and her natural healing processes are boosted -- after all, the living filigree will need to feed on its host for centuries to come. Wherever the metallic tendrils reach they act as a surprisingly sturdy exoskeleton which provides the host with a layer of protection that can easily withstand the blow of a sword. The host also gains increased strength and endurance in the overgrown areas. The feeding process continuously filters pathogens and poisons from her blood, thereby granting her practical immunity to all such threats. Furthermore, the strange alluring effect of the living filigree will extend to its host. Lastly the host gains a high degree of control over the potent magical abilities of the living filigree, usually an offensive school like pyromancy.
These benefits greatly increase the host’s power overnight, but it comes at a steep price that is paid not just in blood. Being infested by a living filigree is slow and one of the most excruciating experiences known to mamono-kind, and the living filigree ensures that there is no way to dull this pain. This frightening show of force serves as a warning of what awaits should the host ever try to have the living filigree removed which, even without the pain, is already a herculean task. Even after the initial infestation process the host will remain in perpetual agony, though to a lesser degree. Curiously, and despite its gruesome nature, accidental infestations are exceedingly rare. There are always those hungry for power, pain, and/or salvation who intentionally seek to bond with them.
Being infested by a living filigree has, not surprisingly, profound effects on the host’s psyche and personality. Aside from stress potentially affecting the host’s sanity her mind will also slowly take on personality traits from the living filigree; typically a ferocious and belligerent demeanor will be the first to manifest itself. Her newfound power might also go to her head and lead to arrogance and/or overconfidence. Furthermore, the constant exposure to agony might invoke twisted views on pain and bodily harm resulting in extreme sadistic and/or masochistic tendencies.
While the living filigree technically has no need for a man to reproduce spirit energy is highly addictive to them. Being exposed to large amounts of it will put the living filigree in a subdued stupor that slows or even halts its growth process and results in a slightly better behaved but also very clingy host. This can be greatly exacerbated as copious amounts of spirit energy are the only exception to there being no temporary painkiller for the agony inflicted on the host by the living filigree.
A living filigree’s sexual preferences are dictated by the host’s original preferences and hence tend to be rather varied. However, after having had a taste of spirit energy the living filigree will start to hunger for more and will turn its host into an incurable nymphomaniac. While the metallic tendrils might seem fragile, there is no risk of the living filigree infestation spreading to a bed partner as long as it and its host are alive.
Eventually a living filigree will grow too large for the host to sustain and it will result in death. When the host dies the living filigree “dies” with her. Its last act is to rip itself out of the host’s body before breaking apart in two to four pieces (depending on how large it has grown). Those pieces will mold themselves into the shape of new ornaments, and due to having gained their own personalities are regarded as the living filigree’s offspring rather than continuations.
Name That Mamono: Sara Underwood
Sara Underwood is a blonde kejourou that grew up in extreme poverty in the slums of Zarom. Every day she witnessed her mother being abused and extorted for almost everything they had until one day she was straight-up beaten to death for not being able to pay off the thugs. That day Sara vowed war eternal upon all thugs, cutthroats, and other scum of the earth in Kaori and beyond. Through sheer determination she worked her way up and became a detective in the service of Kaori. With a dogged persistence she fulfilled her position with such zeal that she rid the streets of many a criminal, but also quickly made more enemies than she had hairs on her head.
A particularly close call during yet another attempt on her life made her realize that sooner or later an assassin was going to succeed and rob Zarom of its only competent detective. That was when she recalled having once confiscated an obscure metal artifact she had later learned was a living filigree in her dormant form. From what she had pieced together she knew that it could grant her the power she needed to take the fight to the crime syndicates -- it would come at a high cost, but it was a price she was willing to pay. Now, many centuries later, her martial prowess and mastery over lightning has turned her into one of the most feared but also revered people in Kaori depending on who you ask. Yet her work is never finished, for whenever one criminal is taken off the streets another takes her place. Meanwhile the parasite keeps slowly spreading further and further throughout her body. This is why Sara has become increasingly desperate to find herself a man who shares her sense of justice and will help her keep fighting crime by postponing her inevitable demise.
Mephistae (meh-FEE-stay) are an extremely rare subtype of demon with mysterious origins. All that is known of their creation is that, sometime after the War of the Ancients, 666 demons came together to attempt a magical ritual of near unprecedented scale. The grandiose scale of the ritual was only outdone by the scale of its failure; more than 90% of the demons were consumed by its vast magical energies. The survivors found themselves forever altered. Some found that their skin had turned a fiery red, and some of them found that their wings were now more draconic than demonic in nature. For every last one of them their eyes had turned into smoldering, red glowing orbs capable of perceiving the deepest held desires of those in their vicinity.
Mephistae, without exception, hold potent magical abilities on par with the most powerful of their more common demonic cousins, but what truly sets them apart is what granted them the nickname Demons of the Covenant -- their ability to instinctively locate truly desperate individuals and then enter into covenants with them. When entering into a covenant with another a mephista can affect magical phenomena far beyond what should be possible with her already considerable abilities. No one, not even the demon herself, would be able to clearly define the conditions that must be met in order for a covenant to become possible. The demon herself, already knowing the deepest held desire of anyone around her, can freely choose whether or not to offer the covenant, just as the desperate individual is free to refuse it.
If a covenant comes to be however, the price to be paid is always the same; the dearest possession left to the desperate, though the mephista has some leeway in how she collects her price. If this most dear possession were the requester's life the demon might demand lifelong service or for the requester to die for instance, as both would result in them losing their ownership over their life. Because of this, among those that know of them, mephistae have a dark reputation for taking advantage of the downtrodden and being willing to cause chaos and misery for their own gain. Due to the chaos caused when covenants were granted lightly those original survivors who made active use of their powers were hunted down in the centuries following their creation, and it is estimated that today less than ten of them remain on Arcadia.
In order to find a partner a demon of the covenant would likely try to use her abilities to bind a man to herself or use a covenant made with another mamano to gain access to her husband. Truly unfortunate for the demon is the fact that she is unable to become pregnant, either through random chance or even a Lord’s blessing. This fact has contributed to their dwindling numbers. The only known way for a Demon of the Covenant to conceive is for the need for a child to be her deepest desire and finding another of her kind to grant this desire. Such meetings are rare, and even when they occur the price might be higher than the would-be mother is willing to pay.
Name That Mamono: Askafroa (ah-skah-FROH-ah)
At nearly 11,000 years old Askafroa can count herself among the oldest living beings on Arcadia and perhaps the last of the original survivors of the primal catastrophe that was the great ritual. Throughout the millennia she has used her abilities to selfishly gain advantages for herself, then tried to use them to affect positive changes in the world. She has had to learn time and again that using her covenants for the better has rarely worked out better than using them selfishly. As the already small number of her sisters dwindled, she eventually withdrew from the world and settled down on the tiny island of Halki in the Karpathesian island chain to the far south of Amarante. There she lives with her bound servants the succubus Envy and the dragon Adalinda Frostgaze.
In recent centuries Askafroa has found herself desiring more and more to finally have a daughter of her own, a desire she thought dead and buried long ago. She still struggles with indecision over whether she is willing to leave her home in search of not only the right man, but also one of her few remaining sisters. She also does not know whether such a plan would be fruitful since, though she can clearly read the deepest, darkest desires of all others, her eyes cannot discern her own.
MURDEN
Family: Abhuman*
Type: Birdman
Habitat: Wastelands, ruins, urban outskirts
Disposition: Paranoid, devious, lustful
Diet: Omnivorous; prefers live insects and grubs or fresh carrion (eyes are a delicacy)
Murden are among the oldest abhuman types. With their raven-like features they can easily be mistaken for harpies, but they're actually quite different. Murden have black down in place of hair (yes, all of their hair), heavily feathered arms, and gray skin, and they tend to be below average human height. Murden eyes are a bit larger than human eyes and are slightly luminous.
Because they have arms and true hands rather than wings murden can't fly, but unlike harpies they have manual dexterity equal to that of humans. They lack harpies' long distance vision. Murden don't have the hollow bones common to harpies, so they are just as strong and sturdy as most non-flying mamono. As carrion eaters murden are immune to food-borne illness and resistant to ingested poisons. Murden lack vocal cords and are therefore incapable of speech -- even during sex the only sounds they make are gasps and sighs.
Among themselves murden communicate by means of telepathy, but their minds operate on a frequency that is alien to those of humans and other mamono -- they use writing or sign language to communicate with non-murden. The presence of murden, either for extended periods or in large numbers, creates psychic static that causes lightheadedness in unshielded minds. Being caught within a murden static field makes spellcasting difficult for those who lack psychic shielding. The stronger a murden's will the greater the range of her static field. A skilled murden can focus on a single being to produce severe headaches, confusion, or debilitating levels of dizziness, while six or more acting in concert can blanket an area the size of a town square. Humans who regularly have sex with murden gradually become immune to this effect.
Murden don't have much in the way of society; their selfishness and paranoia prevent it. They don't have friends or allies so much as favor banks and people who will honor the letter of their deals. This mindset colors how they acquire mates; for murden marriage is a pact rather than a love match. A murden agrees to provide food, shelter, and protection to a man in exchange for "reproductive rights." Such contracts are rarely lifetime deals, and a murden might sell the contract to someone else if the man fails to impregnate her within a reasonable amount of time. Only if a murden comes to love the man who makes her a mother will she offer to contract with him for life, and she will honor the spirit as well as the letter of that agreement.
Name That Mamono: Jostane (joe-STAIN)
Jostane doesn't particularly like being called Jo, but she'll tolerate it from a man with whom she has a contract -- for some additional concessions, of course. She is a petite violet-eyed beauty who is considered clever and devious even by murden standards. She is well known as a mail carrier and traveling bookseller, but there are rumors that she is secretly an assassin. Jostane neither confirms nor denies these rumors, so customers treat her with respect and always honor their deals with her just in case.
Jostane has had two husbands. The first she terminated her contract with because he failed to give her children. The second died suddenly of an illness. She puts on a brave face when asked about either of them, but some who know her suspect that she is desperate for a child... and perhaps for a husband who won't leave her.
*Abhuman:
Abhumans are former humans whose ancestors chose to become mamono. How they did so is unknown -- perhaps some strange rite, the details of which have been lost to antiquity, or a pact with the Demon Lord.
It's possible for a human -- man or woman -- to monsterize into an abhuman, but it's extremely rare. It's not enough for the human to want the benefits of monsterization or to simply be tired of their human life; the subject must actively reject the very idea of being human. If that desire is present and strong enough... and if there's enough demonic energy present... and perhaps if the stars are right... there is a slight chance that the subject will become an abhuman instead of a garden-variety mamono. Less than 3% of abhumans were born this way; the rest were born to abhuman mothers.
There are no abhuman incubi; human males who become abhumans always become monstergirls (though they are more likely to be futanari). Abhumans are also immune to an incubus's charms, and they can't get pregnant from having sex with an incubus or with a futanari who isn't also an abhuman. For reproduction they are almost entirely dependent on human males.
OORGOLIAN SOLDIER
Family: Undead
Type: Magical Material
Habitat: Anywhere that humans can survive
Disposition: Stoic, pragmatic, lustful
Diet: Can subsist on small amounts of organic matter supplemented by solar and/or spirit energy
No one knows where the Oorgolian (oor-GO-lee-en) soldiers originally came from, but they certainly came from some other world. They could be advance scouts for an invasion force, or they might simply be war-weary survivors with no way home. The only things known about them for sure are that they are superb warriors and that they are fearless in the face of death -- why fear something that has already happened?
Every Oorgolian soldier began as a human woman -- or at least, the corpse of one. The soldiers' unknown makers reanimated human bodies by means of arcane technology. As both undead and constructs Oorgolian soldiers have near-limitless stamina, don't need to breathe, and are immune to disease and poison. Their servo-enhanced muscles and joints grant them extraordinary speed, strength, and accuracy, and their reinforced skin offers protection equal to light armor. Most undead and constructs don't heal if wounded -- they must be repaired -- but Oorgolian soldiers do because of some strange magic they call "repair nanites." Oorgolian soldiers communicate with each other in a manner that appears to be telepathy but which mind mages and true telepaths say is something quite different -- the soldiers call this odd ability "radio." A soldier's implants confer enhanced senses including low-light, telescopic, and infrared vision, extra-sensitive hearing that extends into the infrasonic and ultrasonic, and a wolf-like sense of smell. The downside of the soldiers' acute hearing is a sensitivity to certain sound frequencies; they have been known to grow confused when exposed to the cries of werebats and banshees, and there might be other sounds that have similar effects.
Every Oorgolian soldier is skilled with a variety of weapons including the strange implements that humans call "firearms." Most soldiers still have their weapons, but not many can use them as intended; the technology to repair them or to produce new ammunition is at best difficult to obtain on a world with medieval-level tech. The few soldiers who still have working firearms often pretend that their weapons are broken until the situation is desperate enough to warrant their use. None want to risk wasting their last shots.
As undead -- or as constructs, take your pick -- Oorgolian soldiers can't have children, but as monsters they crave sex anyway. They share with automatons (their natural enemies) a desire to protect humans. Where they differ is in the why. While automatons regard humans as masters to defend Oorgolian soldiers see humans as resources to be exploited. Something about human spirit energy improves the soldiers' mental clarity. Sex with the same human (man or woman) for a prolonged period even improves a soldier's memory; over time she might recall skills that allow her to repair or reload her weapons. If the soldier and her human have had sex with no one but each other and her squadmates -- which can include other mamono -- for several months the soldier will regain vestiges of her former personality and might start to recall memories from when she was alive. It is then that her hunger for her human becomes real affection. Her desire will blossom into love, and through that love she will remember the woman that she used to be.
Name That Mamono: VXX-199
She had a name once, but no more. VXX-199 has been online for more centuries than she can remember with countless days blending into each other in a monotony of patrols and drills punctuated by the occasional fight. She has won over a thousand battles, and she remembers them all with the same clarity with which she recalls the faces of her lost squadmates. It's the spaces between battles that she can't recollect... or rather, chooses not to. VXX-199 has no word for the empty feeling that comes over her when she is not fighting or performing an important task; despite her enhanced memory she somehow can't remember the word, "loneliness." She just does what she must when she must and wonders if she'll ever have something more than the next battle to look forward to.
The siabrae is a subspecies of wendigo that resides in warmer climates. They live simple and fruitful lives in the wilds without the comforts of modern civilized life. All of them wear a skull of a beast -- a bird, a feline, a canid, or any other natural animal. They draw their powers from these skulls, and like other wendigoag they have horns protruding from their skulls. Most of them detest modern clothing, so loincloths and simple chestwraps are the typical attire of a siabrae.
A siabrae is a perfect predator for its environment, a spirit attuned with nature to best survive and use the environment around her. She is immune to disease, and her strength is twice a human’s or more. They are almost entirely self-sufficient and can live for weeks without a proper meal by subsisting off of the area around her. They have excellent tracking and hunting abilities, though they lack the common sense that a human might have. Any solution that gets the job done is valid regardless of the morality or complexity -- or lack thereof -- behind it.
The siabrae is a nature spirit and thus can survive wherever nature can. Where nature cannot thrive, such as major cities or towns, so too does she falter. Almost none of them know anything about city life, and the ways of money or housework or neighborly kindness are unknown to them. In spite of this they regularly venture into such places for the rare goods they cannot acquire naturally for their mating needs -- novel things such as perfume or makeup which are not normally needed out in the wilds. For such items they trade minor charms of nature such as bountiful tokens that bring good fertility to both the land and the recipient of the token. Dryads and alraune might revere the token itself and may move to assist just with its presence alone.
Siabrae abhor all civilized life -- seeing most of it as useless waste when it comes to the broader spectrum of survival -- and yet a siabrae will not touch a man who is already in tune with nature. A survivalist already has all the traits a silabrae wants in a partner; though they see him as a good candidate someone who couldn’t survive without modern life is preferred as “redeeming” such a man is a rite of passage for siabrae. She grooms herself to be presentable -- combing untouched hair, applying makeup, glamour magic, and enduring abhorrent clothing to slip into civilized life to get closer to the man of her affections. She often hides or disguises her skull, and if she cannot, she must leave it behind to complete the illusion, lowering her guard as she gets further from it and losing her once potent abilities.
In getting closer to her target the siabrae will have to experience the commodities of modern life such as wells, stone buildings, crowds, the exchange of money and goods, and most importantly her target. Most siabrae cannot complete their mission from this point on because their stubbornness won’t let them push through the simplicity that is city living, especially not when the target of her affections begins to pull her further into it. When they have truly fallen their feral nature turns domestic, and from that generation on their children will link to domestic animals rather than the proud and feral animals they once were. Their powers shift slightly to become more attuned to city living with innate knowledge of cities and the inner workings of civil life to better survive and become the “predators” of their new environment.
Another path lies for those who can fully survive their rite of passage. Through seduction and persuasion she changes a city boy into someone who can survive the wilderness. Either by her own teaching or her seductions pulling him to her she convinces him to leave all of modern life behind. With that she grants him her immunity to disease and a bountiful land -- for where the siabrae flourishes, so too does the land. With her mission accomplished she also becomes bountiful as if under the blessing of a Lord.
Whichever way her rite of passage goes the siabrae will be happy with her new husband, either having changed him or having been changed herself, either option being a perfect fit for her new lifestyle and thus preserving the race as a whole.
Name That Mamono: Karla
Karla is a slim girl of average height (165 cm/5’ 5”) with black hair, dark gray skin, and yellow eyes. She lives on the outskirts of a large town in a cave that she furnished as a cozy home in preparation for no longer living there alone. She makes frequent trips into town to teach wilderness skills and lead camping expeditions for “pampered city folks.” Karla comes off as shy, but she often drops hints about how much being in nature turns her on. If a man ever takes her up on the offer she looks forward to showing him how much fun it is to bend a girl over a log and take her hard… hopefully after a good spanking.
Through their rugged lifestyle uruks (OO-rookz) tend to grow tall and muscular. They are easy to identify by 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.
Uruks usually live in nomadic 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 mamano. 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 her 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 (nahz-NAH-gah)
Nazsnaga 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.
WINDSBRUID
Family: Majin
Type: Majin
Habitat: Villages
Disposition: Passionate, impulsive, prone to addiction, lustful
Diet: Omnivorous; spirit energy
A windsbruid (plural: windsbruiden) is a type of storm witch that is closely related to the dark mage. Like the dark mage a windsbruid looks like an alluring human female, though it is not unheard of for a windsbruid to have elfin ears. The only obvious mamono feature that all windsbruiden have is that their hair always seems to be dancing as if it is being caressed by a strong breeze regardless of whether or not there is any actual wind. While windsbruiden typically live within civilized society they prefer living in villages over city life.
As their name already suggests windsbruiden are associated with the wind, but they are also connected to rain, storms, and tornadoes. This would put them somewhere between ryu and sylphs. Unlike sylphs windsbruiden can exert influence over rain too, but unlike ryu they cannot fully change the weather; they can only empower what is already there. For example they can turn a rain shower into a thunderstorm or a thunderstorm into a tornado, but they can’t make it rain when the skies are clear nor can they dampen a storm.
A windsbruid’s skin is highly sensitive to the wind, so she tends to wear revealing clothing to expose as much skin to the air as she can get away with. Her mana is constantly roiling inside her, which leaves her magic powerful but fickle. A gust of wind can empower her, while fully exposing herself to a storm brings her to
tygertygerAug 18, 2022 5:45 AM
"When you have bought your own load of hooey, you know exactly what it is worth." -- Bruce Sterling
In retrospect, I had to admit that lifting that purse might not have been the smartest move I’ve ever pulled. Its owner had seemed deliciously distracted with her discussion though, so who could have known she’d notice some sticky fingers?
I probed my ankle and winced. Jumping off that roof might have been another move I’d sooner not repeat. At least that grim-looking woman wasn’t on my tail anymore. One good thing about this world was that there always seemed to be someone to intercede on your behalf. If I ever met that plant woman again I’d have to buy her a drink to repay her for buying me enough time to make my getaway.
I jingled the purse and then took a look inside. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as silver and gold smiled back at me. In spite of everything this had been well worth it. I took a step forward and nearly fell straight on my face -- the ankle was worse than I had thought. With some reluctance I went over my options for medical care. I’d have to part with a portion of my ill-gotten gains, but I also didn’t cherish the thought of limping around Alnor for an extended period of time. I dimly remembered a mamano in a bar telling me about a friend of hers who was running a small clinic not too far from the harbour district. I could always go to one of the bigger thoroughfares and ask for assistance, but considering the apparent nature of mamano any such help would likely entail more of a commitment than I was currently comfortable making. That and some patrolling guardswoman might by now have heard of a pickpocket matching my description running around with a hefty purse of gold and silver.
With limping steps I made my way through mostly empty backstreets towards the harbour district and, with the sun signaling a few hours until dusk at most, I found myself standing in front of a diminutive two-story building. I took a careful look around. There were a few mamano walking by. Like almost everywhere I went I received gazes ranging from superficial to the much more common longing stares, but for now none of them made any move towards me. If the few men I had met in this strange world so far were to be believed appearing in Alnor had actually been something of a stroke of luck for someone like me who wasn’t seeking any strong attachments. Most women out in the wilderness would likely have been far more straightforward in their attempts to secure me for their own or perhaps not even cared much about any attempts on my part to dissuade them.
Of course, I couldn’t deny that it was flattering to have so many gorgeous women vying for my attention, and I had enjoyed myself a few times when I was reasonably certain that my horizontal tango partner knew that it was a one time affair.
Finally I decided that I had looked at the small abode for long enough and carefully made my way to its rustic looking door and gave it a knock.
“Come on in, it’s unlocked,” I heard an inviting voice cheerfully answer from the inside.
I pushed open the door and stepped into a mid-sized room. White plaster covered the walls, and some parts of the room on the left-hand side were cordoned off with curtains. The rest of the room was filled with a few cabinets, a table and chairs, a reclining chair of sorts and a sizable sofa on which a positively radiant woman sat and just now put away a book she’d been reading.
She rose to her feet and produced a smile that increased the effect of her radiant appearance even more. “Hello stranger, what can I do for you on this beautiful day?”
I took a second to collect my thoughts. “Hi, I heard that this was the place to go for some medical care?” I said somewhat dumbly, still trying to get a clear bearing on the woman. I saw no horns, no scales, no furs, no tails nor claws. In fact, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. What I saw was perfectly bronzed skin, unusual white hair, golden eyes and that radiant smile. Was this one of the rare human women of this world then?
“Of course, my handsome stranger. Tell me your name and tell me what ails you and I’ll make it all better.” She stepped closer as she spoke and finally came to a stop right in front of me just as she finished. A gentle scent like a summer breeze seemed to surround her and was quite pleasant.
Still, I kept my wits about me and said. “The name’s Michael. I seem to have screwed up my ankle and hoped you could help me out with that.” I let my gaze drift down to my left foot to let her know where the issue lay.
“Of course,” she said blithely. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll have you running around again in no time.”
I hobbled my way over to the sofa and sank into the soft cushions. As I let out a satisfied groan, she sat down beside me and pulled the offending limb off the ground and into her lap. As she gently maneuvered my foot out of the prison of its boot I decided to learn a bit more about this most enchanting woman. “I’ve told you my name and yet I don’t yet know yours.”
She smiled that radiant smile again and said. “My mother named me Lux, Lux Noctis.”
With my foot freed from its boot she grasped it with strong hands. I braced for the pain, but none came. A gentle light suffused my limb and her hands and the pleasant fragrance of summer intensified.
I looked on in fascination. “I didn’t know you’d be able to do magic,” I whispered. “Do you think I could learn it as well?”
A shadow of confusion washed across her face, but then she sadly shook her head. “I’m afraid that men are unable to use magic under normal circumstances.”
“Oh,” I replied, somewhat saddened. Seeing a human woman like her work magic had rekindled the hope that had been dashed so quickly after my arrival in this world. But there was no use in crying over spilt milk.
“There,” she then said. “Your ankle is all better now,” in spite of her words, she maintained a grip on it. She gently stroked it up and down and held my gaze with her golden orbs in a manner that was difficult to misread.
Well Damien. I don’t know what it is, but you certainly got it. Even the human women can’t resist you in this place. Mamano were enticing and all that, but the prospect of being with a woman who couldn’t bend me in half with one hand tied behind her back held an appeal I could not quite deny. Especially if that woman was as radiant a beauty as the one sitting beside me. ”Radiant” might even be quite literal, I thought as I considered her. The sun’s almost down and she seems to be glowing brighter and brighter. Is this also a side effect of her magic?
There was a certain pleasant warmth suffusing me now, and Lux seemed to look more beautiful by the second. I gently disentangled my foot from her grasp and turned to her. Her lips parted just barely as I leaned in. A joyous spark entered her golden orbs as our lips touched. One of her arms snaked around my back, while the other gently held the back of my head. I kept pushing forward and she gently leaned back until her back lay flat on the sofa and I was atop her.
Our lips parted and I let loose a heavy breath. It had been a while since I had desired someone the way I desired her right now. “Almost exactly like I always dreamed…” Lux whispered, her long white hair splayed out around her.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she assured me and drew me in for another kiss. My tongue gently pushed against her lips and she granted me entry. My hands eagerly started to roam across her well formed curves. From the corner of my eye, I could see the last few rays of sunlight disappear.
Lux broke our kiss and guided my head down to her modest breasts. I gently freed them from the dress she wore and began lavishing attention upon them. With the sun having finally sunk down beyond the rooftops of the city, the light rapidly faded from the room. Even the radiance that had thus far wreathed the woman beneath me seemed to fade. Of course, I was quite beyond caring about such minor details at this point. That was, until the minor details were not so minor anymore. It became dark in the room. Not dark as in the sun just went down, but rather pitch black.
“Uhmm…” I said, momentarily distracted from Lux’s breasts. At least she, as well as the sofa, was still there.
“Keep going, dear,” Lux replied, but there was something different now. Something that I could not quite put my finger on. She was still below me and she felt the same, yet everything felt different all of a sudden.
One of her hands gently stroked my head and he quickly felt his calm returning. As the darkness slowly began to recede, I became aware that Lux’s fragrance seemed to have shifted just slightly. As if her scent had become more subtle -- all the notes were still there, but there was new quality to it, almost as if it were suddenly more pure. Then, as the darkness finally gave way enough to let me see once, I got quite the shock. It seemed I’d been quite mistaken in thinking that Lux was a human woman. Either that or she was even more special than I’d given her credit for. Laying beneath me now was the palest woman I’d ever seen. She was unmistakably Lux, as the contours of her face were left unchanged, but everything else had changed. Her white hair had turned to darkest black, her skin as pale as though she’d never even heard of the sun and her golden orbs were now all black, from sclera to pupil. I also realized now that the dark had quite literally receded as a slightly ominous shadow now billowed around her and the sofa in the most unnatural fashion I could imagine.
“What seems to be the matter, Michael?” she asked soothingly. Even her voice had taken on an entirely new quality. Her tone was different, as was her enunciation and even her diction. “Hmmm, or perhaps I should call you Damien?”
The breath caught in my throat. “How do you know that name?” Was this all some elaborate trap I still didn’t understand?
She chuckled wryly. “Don’t worry my dear, this is no trap. You are safe here with me. No one will do anything to you that you yourself do not wish.”
“Then you’ll let me go if I ask for that?” He asked.
She sighed wearily. “I would if that is what you truly want. But is that what you truly want, Damien? You’ve been running around the city ever since your arrival. Lifting purses and living day to day. Tell me, Damien... aren’t you tired of running? Wouldn’t you like a chance to actually rest?”
tygertygerAug 21, 2022 3:44 PM
"When you have bought your own load of hooey, you know exactly what it is worth." -- Bruce Sterling
The last couple of days -- not to mention nights -- had been… interesting.
I had decided to stay with Lux for a while to get my footing on this world, and in exchange she asked only that I help out around the clinic. I’d started by upgrading the locks on the ground floor. The ones on the doors hadn’t been very good, and the so-called locks on the windows had been a joke. Lucky for the good doctor I, like many burglars, had studied locksmithing. Upgrading her locks from laughable to, “Don’t even try it, kid,” had been the work of a single afternoon. I’d promised Lux that I’d do the same for second floor windows tomorrow.
That sort of thing was what her day self requested, of course. What her night self wanted, I was only too happy to provide. The mind reading was unnerving, especially for a habitual liar like me, but there’s something to be said for having a sex partner who knows exactly what you want.
I was resting up from my labors while Lux was out making a house call. One of her patrons had suddenly taken ill from what Lux was sure was food poisoning. The patient’s home was across town in the prime target part of the city, so she said she’d be an hour or two. Being Lux she suggested that I go on to bed… but being a mamono she hinted that she would be waking me up when she got home. So here I was, fresh out of the bath, lying in bed naked waiting for sleep or my hostess to claim me. Sleep was winning the race when I heard a sound at the window. It was faint, quiet enough that I almost dismissed it, until the larcenous part of my mind reminded me of the sort of sounds I made while breaking and entering. I quickly slid my hand under the pillow and gripped my knife while pretending to be asleep.
With my eyes shut I heard the unmistakable sound of a blade being slipped between the window and the frame to pop the latch. The casement swung open with hardly a sound -- the intruder had probably oiled the hinges first -- and I heard the near-silent tread of bare or soft-shod feet on the carpet. The window closed, and the intruder stood there for a moment assessing the situation. Then a familiar voice chirped, “Hiya, cutie! No need to pretend, I can tell by your breathing that you’re awake.”
My eyes flew open, but I didn’t sit up; I didn’t want to reveal my weapon just yet. “You! I never thought I’d see you again.” There before me was the plant girl who’d saved me from the orc-looking woman whose purse I’d stolen. She wore a dark gray hooded cloak, a mid-thigh length sleeveless tunic in the same color, and a pair of black suede ankle boots. Not a bad outfit for second story work, and it didn’t hurt that she looked cute as hell in it.
As I watched she lowered the hood and shook out the leaves that served her as hair. Her skin was a lovely shade of green, and I couldn’t help but notice how much of it her outfit left on display. Green eyes, too, and while they didn’t literally glow they were bright with amusement. “I’m not surprised, you’re a hard man to track down.” she unclasped her cloak and let it drop to the floor. “It took me two days to find you, and it was only that short ‘cause this neighborhood loves to gossip.” She kicked off her boots and continued. “Everybody had an opinion about ‘the doc’s new man.’ You’re the talk of the town, Damien Fox.” She then bent over, reached under her tunic, and shimmied out of a pair of black cotton briefs. She let them drop to the floor and stepped out of them. “By the way, my name’s Licaria. But my friends call me Carrie.”
“Pleased to meet you, Carrie,” I said, “Though I’m not sure I would call us friends, seeing as we’ve only just now been introduced.”
“What do you mean? We cooperated on a job, of course we’re friends!” She pulled the tunic over her head and dropped it atop her cloak. Her breasts were perfect handfuls for my modestly sized hands, and the dark green of her aureolas did nothing to hide how hard her nipples were. The pedantic part of my mind tried to protest that a plant didn’t need mammary glands, but the horny part of my mind shushed it and enjoyed the view. I did note that I’d never before seen as literal an example of a neatly-trimmed bush. “Oh, the uruk -- her name’s Nazsnaga -- says she’ll need that money back, so I hope you haven’t spent too much of it.”
“Uh… hardly any, actually.” I shifted slightly as Carrie lifted the sheet and slid into bed next to me. “Umm… so you talked to this -- Nazsnaga -- after distracting her so I could get away?”
Carrie’s smile grew even broader. “Sure! I explained that my boyfriend is new to this world and doesn’t know any better. I promised her I’d get her money back, and while we talked we discovered that we have problems we can help each other with. So we made a deal; you help me, and I help her, and she doesn’t, y’know, beat you within a finger’s breadth of your life.”
I swallowed nervously. “That… sounds like a good deal. So what is it I’m supposed to help you with?”
Carrie ran a finger down my chest. “I’ll tell you later. Right now you owe me for saving your hide.” She moved her hand lower and said, “Now, how about you let go of that weapon under the pillow and I take hold of the one under the sheet?” She took my member in hand, and her expert ministrations soon brought it from half-mast to fully erect. When she leaned in to kiss me she tasted faintly of mint and lime, and the subtle hibiscus scent of her “hair” wormed its way into my brain and grabbed me by the libido.
Well,, I thought, A man should always pay his debts. That was the last coherent thought I had for some time.
***
Afterward we lay intertwined with Carrie’s head nestled under my chin. “So let me sum up,” I said. “Your sisters were in jail in this Teremir place, but they’re being moved to… Kaori, you called it?”
“Mmm-hmm,” Carrie answered. “There’s still five years on their sentence, but a merchant from Alnor -- a fat danuki -- paid their way out for an indenture contract. Now she’s moving them to a mining camp. But once they’re in Kaori they’re pretty much slaves. So we have to spring them before they get there.”
“And Nazsnaga’s helping because this same merchant has her husband,” I added, “So by helping you she helps herself.” I kissed the top of her head and asked, “But as much as I enjoyed paying off my debt, why’d you pick me to help with this caper?”
“Three reasons,” said Carrie. “One, you’ve got nimble fingers…” she leered, “Which I was glad to find out are good for more than lifting purses. Two, you’re bold. I mean, stealing from an uruk? When she’s already cranky from being in civilization? That takes balls. As for three,” she tilted her head up to kiss me and said, “You’re really, really cute.”
I chuckled at that. “Not the first time a woman has wanted to work with me for that reason.” I sighed and shook my head. “But even with my nimble fingers, your gift of gab, and Nazsnaga’s brawn, I don’t think the three of us will be enough to pull this off. We’re going to need some brains for this operation. Got anyone in mind?”
As if on cue the bedroom door opened, and a cloud of shadows rolled into the room with Lux in its wake. She speared me with an icy glare and said, “I will deal with you shortly.” Then she turned to Carrie and said, “As for you, we need to have a talk about the trouble you are trying to get my man into.”
"When you have bought your own load of hooey, you know exactly what it is worth." -- Bruce Sterling
So I have been called in to cast judgement in this H-off. It appears that there has been some collusion going on between the authors. Furthermore, there is more at stake than merely determining who is going to win the people's choice award, for the decision is also going to determine who of the two suitors is going to get the man.
I must say that the authors made it a really tough call, for both vignettes were an excellent and most entertaining read. When it comes to staying true to the Name that Mamono profile both authors did a good job too. All in all when it comes to the quality of the vignettes and the authors' eye for detail I call it a tie.
Alas, a tie will not do to settle the question as to who is going to become Damien's wife. Hence, I shall grant the position of first wife to Lux for the simple reason that she used the much more honest method of seduction to sink her proverbial claws into Damien instead of the not-so-low-key sensuous blackmailing that Licaria resorted to. While blackmail might be perfectly fine if she was only after a one-night-stand, it won't provide a solid foundation for a more lasting relationship. But, having roped the two into that heist to free her grove sisters should give Licaria ample opportunity to leaf a good enough impression to claim the still vacant position of being his number two.
