"Who is he?" Ambrusia asked. Lura didn't answer immediately, instead reflecting on the woman's unusual accent and savoring it like an aged glass of drow mushroom wine. Ambrusia was behind her, spooning her, with her strong, yet decidedly feminine hand resting on Lura's obsidian hip. Her Red Robe was nowhere to be seen.
"An old friend," the drow responded at length. "A year or so ago he parted ways with me and Cyra, as well as a few other close friends. I haven't heard from any of them since then, except, now, Hammer."
"He was always a warrior, then?" Ambrusia asked.
"More than that," Lura replied, a fond smile gracing her refined features. "He was a friend, a shoulder to cry on—assuming I ever had the need for it, a councilor and a companion. I laid with him scant few times when he was exploring the life Sune offered him."
"I see," Ambrusia said. "Was he always honorable?"
"The most honorable man I have ever known," Lura said. She shifted herself back against Ambrusia more tightly, and briefly imagined it was the massive barbarian. She couldn't, of course, because of the voluptuous, muscular curves that were absolutely womanly, but imagined what a single night with the barbarian would be like again. She realized that he might be too good for her. Too noble, too honorable. He would expect her to be faithful if anything grew out of their friendship, and she knew that, despite his generous assets, she'd never be able to simply because of her curiosity. A sigh escaped her lips. She loved Mikhail, certainly, but something about having so much muscle to climb on made her blood quicken. Thus she turned to face Ambrusia.
The drow ran her fingertips over the woman's muscular shoulders and arms, admiring the marble-like tautness of her flesh. "You are excited by strength?" Ambrusia asked, noticing her focus.
"The size and feel is pleasing, whether it is on a woman or a man," Lura admitted. "A certain part of me adores such things, perhaps because it is a symbol of security and protection. Perhaps because muscles are just plain sexy."
"But your mate, Mikhail," Ambrusia said, her tone conveying her confusion, "is much smaller than me or Hammer. And by your admission is less honorable than Hammer or myself. Not to mention he has little skill in combat. Why do you wish to retain him as a mate?"
"There are other qualities that I desire in a man," Lura said. "Things here are not based around the protection a man can offer, or his base appearance. Those things help, of course: if he were not attractive, I would not enjoy making love to him or feeling his body against mine in any way. I would simply not be physically attracted to him even if I was emotionally attracted. Half of the relationship would be gone. He is handsome to me, and the muscle he does have pleases me greatly. He is also quite well endowed."
This made the stoic dragonborn giggle a little. "I believe that trait is universally viewed as a positive feature," she said, and Lura joined her giggle.
"You have eyes for the barbarian," Lura said, staring into the dragonborn's glinting golden eyes.
"He is...quite a man," she said, smiling shyly. "He seems to embody the things my people expect from great leaders."
"I could say something to him if you want," Lura offered, but Ambrusia seemed offended.
"That is not how my kind courts," she said in a flat tone.
"Then how? Enlighten a curious drow," Lura purred, pressing her head against the larger woman's chest and closing her eyes.
"We see what we want, we reach out, and we take it," she said. "That is how the women handle it, at least. Men are similar, but have been known to brawl with each other over women. It is quite arousing to watch."
"I don't think you'll have that pleasure with Hammer. I've never seen anybody challenge him and last more than a few seconds," Lura said.
"That is acceptable," she replied, smirking to herself. "He can fight me."
*****
Hammer had been near death many times in his life, but had never truly passed the threshold. Until a few hours ago. And it had been Lura's magic, or at least Sune working through the drow, that had brought him back. He realized he owed his life to the drow and her goddess, and didn't find that displeasing. The barbarian sat in the Dreaming Dragon, mulling these things over in his head, when Mikhail approached him.
"It is good to have you back, my large friend," he said, putting his hand on Hammer's massive shoulder. Standing next to the seated barbarian, he was only a head or so taller than the giant of a man.
"It is good to have returned," he replied, his deep voice resonating in the tavern's common room. "I did not expect to see you out of Lura's bed this night."
"I was not sharing it with her," Mikhail said matter-of-factly.
"No? Something split you two?"
"Nothing like that," Mikhail said reassuringly, even if he was beginning to wonder if they were drifting apart. "A minor scuffle: she found me in bed with another woman, and became enraged, probably because of the stress of the Spellplague and the fact that she and I haven't been intimate with each other in quite a while now."
Hammer nodded. "She has very fond feelings for you. Some might call it love, Mikhail. I would advise against taking that for granted." His jaw clenched as recent memories surfaced and were subsequently quashed.
"Aye, but you know Lura: our relationship has always been open," Mikhail said.
"No relationship is ever truly open, Mikhail," Hammer said, standing suddenly. He began to pace back and forth, eyes fixed on nothing and mind cast into the recent past. "Eventually she will come to a point where she no longer wishes to share you because she will find that her heart is meant only for one other. She will expect and hope for the same."
Mikhail chuckled. "Speaking from experience, big guy?" Hammer turned a solemn look to Mikhail that sobered him.
"Shannara and I grew close, closer than I had anticipated. You know of my affection for the Red Knight, but a goddess is simply beyond my means until I pass from this life. I accepted that and turned wholly to the woman who travelled with me to my kin." Hammer stopped pacing and sat on a chair, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his thick thighs. "I allowed my heart to love her, Mikhail. She returned the gesture in act if not in truth. She and I were bonded by the ancient ways of my people. It is a bond that ought never be broken or betrayed. It was.
"I returned to my village one day after a long hunt, bearing a great bounty to share with my wife and my clan. She was not in my tent, though. I searched around, hoping for the best but knowing deep within that I would find the worst. She was in another man's tent...
*****
"Fill me," Shannara breathed desperately. The man before her was almost twice her size, yet even he was smaller than Hammer, in all areas. But she didn't seem to care. He grabbed his engorged cock and held it vertical, the tip pressing against her damp slit. His other hand was on her hip and pressed her down. His cock filled and split her and she grunted loudly, hands digging into his broad, hairy chest. She began to ride him quickly and hungrily, moaning like a whore as his cock stirred her insides.
Her breasts were not large, certainly not as much as the barbarian women living in the village, but her body oozed sex and this barbarian was willing to chance dishonoring Hammer to give her pleasure she almost constantly craved. And he was succeeding mightily.
Still, Shannara thought, he was not Hammer and did not make her feel the way he did. Why her lover always insisted on going on these long hunts was beyond her. His sense of honor and loyalty went beyond her understanding, and she could not grasp that, in serving his clan, he was serving her. Sure, she felt guilty as this barbarian's cock plundered her most intimate depths, but she was able to push that aside and simply enjoy the physical pleasure she was receiving.
Then the tent flap was torn open. Hammer's body was silhouetted against the setting sun, but she could see his rage flowing from his body despite his shadowed features. He entered the tent even as she dismounted and her unfortunate lover tried to cover his erection. Hammer grabbed her shoulder and tossed her away from the nameless barbarian. He reached down and grabbed him by the neck with both hands and hauled him from the ground, out of the tent. Barbarians young and old, male and female gathered around the central bonfire as Hammer tossed the naked barbarian like a ragdoll to the ground.
"Stand you honorless dog!" he roared. The barbarian began to rise, but as soon as he gained his feet, Hammer was upon him, raining furious blows on his skull until he was beaten down to the ground. "STAND!" he roared again, walking away and prowling like a furious lion.
"Hammer," the barbarian said weakly through swollen lips and shattered cheeks. "Please, have mercy."
"You deserve none," Hammer responded in a growl. The barbarian was on his feet again, and Hammer took three long strides and wrapped both hands around his skull. "You dishonor me. You dishonor my family. You are without honor and no longer deserve life." Shannara screamed at him from the tent, a fur wrapped around her naked body. He began to squeeze the man's skull, eliciting a horrifying scream of terror and pain.
He relented though, just short of crushing the man's skull with his bare hands. "No. You will not die like this." He walked to his tent and retrieved an old sword. "You are still a barbarian. You will die like one."
"Hammer," the barbarian said. "I see my folly now. I was foolish in taking your wife. I am without honor and deserve death. I accept my fate and will see you in the afterlife. Please, my brother, find forgiveness for me before then."
