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        It’s been a long journey, but you’ve finally arrived at the Dwarven city of Kiliraal. After a month on the road with your trade caravan, it’ll be nice having an actual roof over your head for a change. And, if your fellow bard’s tales are to be believed, Dwarven hospitality is something legendary. Tankards filled to the brim with ale, fresh meat cooking over open fires, the thought makes your mouth water. You snap out of your daydream when a hand claps you roughly on the shoulder though. It’s Yurdar, a Dwarf hired as a guide for the trip.

 

        “You excited boy?” He asks you with a hearty chuckle, his black beard shaking almost as much as his rotund belly. You nod, giving him a wide grin. You haven’t had an actual meal and a warm bed in quite a while, and are eager to finish this trip. “Ah, now lad, y’shouldn’t be just worryin’ about fillin’ yer belly. Kiliraal’s one O’ those destinations perfect for more…earthly pleasures.” He lets out another laugh, even as you give him a quizzical look, not quite sure what he means.

 

        “I’m talkin’ the women boy! Aaah, nothin’ quite like a fine Dwarven lass! They may be a wee bit small fer ya, but I guarantee you’ll have the time O’ yer life! You can sleep with an Elf, you can sleep with an Human, but you ain’t getting any sleep with a Dwarf! Oh, and the hair! Thick, full heads O’ the stuff, right down to their lil’ round bottoms! Hehe, now I remember a time…” He starts rambling, and you only half hear him as you continue with your thoughts. A Dwarven woman huh? You’ve had a few flings back in your town, one was even a Half-Elf. But you’re not quite sure you’ve ever seen a Dwarf lady before. Well, now you’ve got one more thing to look forward to as your caravan reaches the front gate of the city.

 

        For some reason, the bard tales neglected to mention the Dwarven customs office. Hours of paperwork and waiting behind a few other caravans was worth it though, and you’re finally allowed to enter Kiliraal. The sheer scope of the city astounds you, with half of the city carved right into the mountainside, the other being open air. All of the buildings are wonderfully constructed, with grand arches and lovingly carved pillars made of every sort of stone you could think of, and even some you didn’t know could exist. The city is bustling too, and though you spy a few other races, it’s primarily Dwarves who roam the streets. You also find out that Yurdar wasn’t lying about the women. They do have a certain appeal to them, with short, stocky builds, and every head of hair being braided and woven in intricate patterns. You’re even more pleased to find out that the myth about all dwarves having thick beards is…well, a myth. Sideburns do abound, however, and you spot a rather well-to-do miss with hair so long that she has it wrapped around her waist like a belt. You smile as you help unload the carts, wondering if you can actually manage to woo one for yourself.

 

        The city starts to slow down by evening as you finish up work, and you head out with some other workers for some celebration and much needed comfort. “Oi lad, stick close to me! I’ll show you all O’ the best taverns ‘round here!” Yurdar leads you all to one of the larger buildings, holding the door open for you and motioning for you to step inside. You have to duck quite a ways, but once your inside, you find out that the hustle and bustle doesn’t stop during the night, it merely moves indoors. The place is packed with rowdy Dwarves, drinking, playing games of chance and skill, and even having friendly contests of strength and wit. You take a seat at a free table with your compatriots, and a particularly busty waitress sets down some tankards almost immediately, giving you a friendly wink before she sashays off. “What’d I tell ye about the ladies lad?” Yurdar laughs before bringing his mug to his mouth, and you can’t help but do the same, happy for such great company.

 

        The celebration goes on long into the night, with plenty of drinking and eating by everyone present. You’ve made plenty of friends by sharing some tales of your travels here, and you even made a few coins in a friendly little dice game. After a few more ales though, something catches your eye. A crowd has gathered at one end of the tavern, and as you walk over, a dwarf tumbles through the throng, drunk and bruised. “Anyone else wanna give it a shot?!” A voice roars, sounding almost feminine if not for its gruffness and volume. You tap one of the group members on the shoulder, asking about what’s going on. “Aye, it’s Hammerin’ Helga, one O’ the fiercest warriors in the city guard. This is pretty standard for her. Anyone who can beat ‘er in a show of strength can fetch a pretty bit O’ gold. So far though, no one’s got it in ‘em.”

 

        You laugh just a little bit. You find the situation a bit absurd, that a sweet, pudgy Dwarven lass could be so strong. You peek over the heads of the crowd, and go wide eyed as you get a look at her. She’s heavily muscled, at least the parts you can see. She’s partially covered in armor, with thick gauntlets and boots of iron, although you notice her top is particularly low cut, showing off the cleavage of her ample bust. Her long, fiery orange hair is braided in a simple pony tail that trails over the back of her seat, drawing your eyes to the rather large hammer at her side. Her bicep bulges as she tosses another competitor out of his seat, the crowd erupting in cheers and hollers. Then she points right at you.

 

        “The tall one in the back! D’ya fancy a go, or are ya a yellow belly coward like the rest O’ ‘em?” The crowd lets out a collective “Oooooooh” as Helga calls you out. Not one to pass up a challenge, you down the rest of your ale, push your way through the mob, and take a seat, leaning down so you’re right at eye level with your oppenent. “Maybe I’ll go easy on ya, since yer such a cutie!” She laughs at her own joke, blowing you a kiss before she slams her elbow down on the table, ready for an arm wrestling match. You take her hand, flinching just a little at how tight her grip is. The crowd counts down, and you brace yourself, gritting your teeth as you force your arm against Helga’s.

 

        It takes all of your might not to just fall over as Helga exerts her arm, trying to pin your hand down. You’re both at a stand still, but you know you can’t hold out against her, much less win. A thought crosses your mind though, and, thinking fast, you look over her shoulder, nodding and mumbling a greeting. She falls for it, looking behind her for a second. That’s all you need, and, taking advantage of the sudden distraction and her lack of focus, you slam her hand against the table with a loud thud. The whole crowd goes silent, and Helga looks stunned. You look around nervously, wondering what happens next, but as you’re about to bolt for the door, she throws her head back laughing, and the throng erupts with cheers, lifting you from your seat and holding your sore arm high above your head.

 

        “That was a dirty trick ya know! Buuuut, I guess yer the first one to best me in a long time, either way. Here ya go champ!” Helga thrusts a large sack brimming with coins at you, before giving you a punch in your arm. It hurts, but you get the feeling she approves of you, if only a little. You agree though, it was a bit dishonest means of victory, so you stride to the bar, place your winnings on the counter and announce that the drinks are on you tonight. You didn’t think the crowd could get any louder, but their hoots and hollers shake the very foundations of the tavern as they keep the celebration going for hours on end.

 

        It’s about midnight, and you’ve had more than your fair share of alcohol. Helga may have lost at arm wrestling, but she handily drank you under the table, along with most of your friends. You stagger out of the tavern, with her holding you up so you can actually walk and not just fall on your face. She’s actually really great after you get to know her! She’s got the prettiest freckles, and you swear that more than once she was flirting with you throughout the night. Or maybe it’s just the booze talking. You assume that she’s taking you to your inn, so you try and give her directions, your words slurring as you try to remember if the sign had a dragon or a unicorn on it. It’s a wonder she can keep you upright, being a few feet shorter than you, but you stumble through the streets, eventually making it into a building. You black out for only a few moments, but you recognize the soft warmth of a bed as Helga heaves you onto it. You look around bleary eyed, and wonder out loud that it doesn’t look like the room you booked.

 

        “That’s ‘cuz it’s my room big guy!” You raise your eyebrow and crane your neck, looking at her as she leans her hammer at the foot of the bed. “Y’see, when you won that lil’ contest, it wasn’t just the gold ya were winning. It was a night with me!” Helga grins at you, flashing her pearly whites as she climbs up, kneeling between your legs. You’re about to ask her just what she means, but you quickly figure it out as she pulls her shirt up, letting her large breasts jiggle out into the open. “Now, you just sit back, and let me show you why they all call me Hammerin’ Helga!”

 

        You wake up, light filtering through the curtains as you sit up, thoroughly bruised and sore from your night of rowdy love making. The backboard of the bed is cracked, the dresser is tipped over, the handle of Helga’s hammer is distinctly wet and dripping with something, and you’re pretty sure you have a broken rib or two. But as you look down at the muscled Dwarven girl cuddling up to you, nuzzling her cheek against your chest, you can’t help but think it was all worth it. After a few minutes, she wakes up as well, yawning and stretching before she looks at you with a predatory glint in her eye. “Mmm, good mornin’ stud! You up for another round?” You chuckle nervously, explaining that you have work to do today. Helga just laughs loudly, rolling over on top of you and straddling your chest, pinning you down beneath her. “I’m sure they’ll understand if I keep ya for a while. Besides, I can always pull a few strings at the guard, make up a story for ya!” She presses her lips to yours to silence any further objection. Looks like it’s gonna be a long day…