The bogs of Lokus Liebe never seemed to end. Every mud filled creek and gnarled tree, every cloud of flies and hollow log looked the same. The bog was notorious as a place unwary travelers got lost in, a place where brigands, rogues and villains would hide from the law. Tales from woodsman were passed around of prodigies and horrid creatures that grew in the mud filled swamp, things with teeth and claws and flailing arms. In the cities neighboring the Lokus Liebe profiteering lowlifes made maps of the infamous swamp from scraps of cloth and charcoal, crafted completely from their imaginations and populated with false routes, hills, trails and rivers unique to the cartographer’s mind. Markers warning of trolls, dragons and wizards littered these maps, despite the few experienced denizens of the area never reporting such dangers.

	Fernweh gnawed on a stick of sweet bark while looking over one of these maps. If she was correct, she was in between “Poote’s Blacke Hille” and “Narow Streem”. She had only spent a few days in the town on the edge of the bog, and the promise of a land filled with trees, water and wildlife sounded perfect to her. The man in the tavern had described it like a good place to start her new home. Her magic kept the mud from sticking to her legs, and she could talk to the flies and mosquitoes and ask them not to bother her. They never listened. She didn’t want for food and shelter when the land’s magic sustained her, but she was still unsatisfied with her surroundings. She needed to find a place to shelter for winter, and despite the nice man at the tavern’s glowing description and affordable map, the bog wasn’t living up to her expectations. It was already mid fall, and the leaves were falling to the ground, the temperature dropping, animals disappearing to shelter for the cold season.

	She decided find “Yea Other Blacke Hille” and summit it to catch her bearings. Fernweh was barefoot, but that had never bothered her. Thorns failed to scratch her, the sticks did not crack under her weight, and her magic kept her from sinking into the thick mud that surrounded her. She walked with an unearthly grace, the weight of her backpack seemed to do nothing to alter her pace. With each step her breasts gave a little jiggle, her full, round behind, her curvy hips and thighs all rose and fell in time. The short skirt and tube-top of verdant leaves and vines she wore out of modesty barely concealed her charms, and were she among civilized company she would have drawn eyes from far away. Fernweh was oblivious to this, concentrating on the wiggling, snakelike line on her map. 

	The dark lord Lance Hammerbane, scourge of the elven lands, defiler of the shrine of Imog, lord of the darkling horde, stopped to think for a moment. He had been pursued into the Lokus Liebe by the heroes of the realm following the crushing defeat of his army. His mount had found it impossible to move through the muck, grime and sludge of the swamp, and had had killed it in his fury. Still clad in his cursed armor he was finding it just as difficult. From his minions he had heard tales of the strange swamp, of its strange creatures and impenetrable terrain and thought he, the terrible lord of darkness, would be able to navigate it with ease. He spat on the ground in rage, cursing how wrong he was. The damned paladins pursuing him had even destroyed his demonic mace, leaving him almost completely unarmed. 

	Tearing off his skull-faced helmet in rage, Hammerbane felt his stomach grumble. Having fled his pursuers nonstop for at least two days, he had neglected to feed himself. Something inside the dark lord snapped, and his hands fell into his hands. All his life he had relied on his minions to bring him nourishment; his orcish scouts looting choice foodstuffs from the regions he raided. Hammerbane had never had to fend for himself, to live off the land, to live as a filthy peasant. Never before had the warlord felt so helpless, trapped at the mercy of the elements, without his army, magic weapon or the power of his dark steed to aid him. Hammerbane’s tired muscles sagged under the weight of his armor, the heavy plates only making his flight more difficult. Without so much as a feeble goblin to punish, he could feel his frustration, hunger and exhaustion tearing him down. The plates of his armor creaking in frustration, the dark lord collapsed on the ground in unconsciousness.

	Fernweh studied the boulder in her way with a puzzled eye. Her map, if she was reading it right, said she should be passing by a lake of pitch. Instead, the trail was winding down a hill until it terminated at pile of rocks. Fernweh sighed, and focused her magic outwardly. She mouthed a question she wanted to ask the earth, to learn what the soil had seen.
“Earth, who has made the trail I walk upon? It is Fernweh, daughter of the summer falls, child of spring, who has always been your friend who asks you.”
In her mind, she could hear the land’s gruff response.
“A herd of deer. They walk up this hill every day to eat some berries that grow up top.”
“Have men, or any creatures who’s feet are shaped like man’s trod this path?” the nymph asked.
“None but you. Rarely do I see the paws of man-things.”
“Thank you, o land who I trod. Take this as token of my thanks.” With that, Fernweh reached into her pack and retrieved a pinch of soil. Seemingly unimportant to the untrained eye, but to a creature of magic like Fernweh, the lump of dirt was alive with fertility magic, and whatever was planted in it would surely grow rich and full. The nymph delicately kissed it and placed it in one of her footsteps, an offering to the swamp and its occupants. 
A worried frown crossed her flawless brow, and Fernweh pursed her lips in worry. She had trusted the man in town, and even paid him with what little coin she had. The idea that someone would deceive her, would lie and trick her was alien. That someone would do it all for a meager metal coin was even stranger. She wasn’t even sure what humans did with all those coins. When she was younger she saw one with dozens of them in a sack tied to his waist and asked him what they were for. He laughed and told her “Anything! Food, shelter, company, whatever I want! But today, their for my landlord.” For years she was convinced humans ate them and made houses out of them, and maybe could use them in magic like she could with leaves and berries. But as she met more people that idea vanished, only to be replaced with the same mystery. She considered asking the animals around her, but paused when she sensed an emptiness within her. It was not unlike feeling hungry, or tired, but it was a fatigue of her soul, not her body. Speaking to the swamp had taken more of her magic then she had anticipated, and with winter approaching she would need to ration it carefully.  
She had not taken a partner in some time, and would need one to help her recover her lost magic, especially if she wanted to maintain her power through the cold. Shaking he head and mumbling in frustration, she decided to walk in the direction she thought was the exit of the bogs.

	Dark Lord Hammerbane had woken to his stomach turning. Half his armor was encrusted with mud, and feared that his wounds may be infected. It was impractical to wear his heavy armor, but he stubbornly refused to take it off. He sacrificed a dozen virgins to enchant it, he had butchered the army of Barro the Elder in this armor, the blood of his sphinx-knights staining it bright red. This was the armor he wore to the throne of Kaloc when he stole king’s crown, and it was in these plates he had wrestled his rival warlord Keigo to the ground and beat the life out of him with his bear hands. Without his demonic mace, his black steed and the dark banner he rode under, this set of armor was the last thing he had that marked him as Dark Lord Hammerbane. 
	Struggling to move under his treasured armor, Hammerbane dragged himself through the mud, urging himself to get away from his pursuers. The effort of simply moving through the sludge felt harder than any conquest. Every fly and mosquito was a greater foe than any knight, every plant a greater obstacle then a fortress. It had been hours, but the wounded warrior had only managed to march about a mile. He needed to find a place to rest. It took some time, but he managed to locate a tree with a large hollow at it’s base, and with a grimace, he dragged himself into it. His face locked in a frown, Hammerbane began to clean off his armor until he passed into sleep.

	Fernweh must have walked at least eight miles, and it was beginning to get dark. At the height of spring and close to the summer equinox she could walk for days without a rest and spend every night dancing and laughing. But in this late season she needed to rest, and was starting to feel exhaustion in her long, lissome legs. Cursing how easily she could be fooled, she looked for a place to rest. It didn’t need to be comfortable, her enchanted form could lay in a pile of sharp sticks and have it feel like a bed of feathers as long as she was in the wild. Anything could suffice, but she wanted something out of the way, where the swamp’s animal inhabitants, and any human travelers, wouldn’t bother her while she slept. Eyeing a stable branch above her, she decided to curl up on it and relax. It was large enough that she could stretch out without fear of falling, but about twenty feet above her. She stood on the tips of her toes and wrapped her fingers around a smaller branch to pull herself up. It was about the length of her arm and a bit thicker. She didn’t notice, however, the ring of rot where the branch connected to the tree’s trunk. She was halfway up when she felt the branch bend, and a half second later, it snapped.

	Hammerbane was woken with a start. He had heard a loud snap, and a moment later something heavy had hit the ground. In his life as a warrior he had seen many ambushes start in just the same way, and he was not about to fall prey to one. Pulling himself to his legs, he grabbed a rock from the ground and made his best effort to move soundlessly. The sound had come from the other side of the tree, so he peaked his head around the trunk and raised the stone in his hand, ready to strike with it. He expected a bandit, a monster, a warrior come to find and slay him. Instead he saw a woman. Young, perhaps in her late teens, with light skin and auburn hair that reached to shoulders. She had long, pointed ears, longer even than an elf’s. Her figure was impossibly perfect, a smooth, curvy hourglass with legs that tapered to fine, bare feet. Despite her surroundings her hair was silky and shiny, her skin glistening and perfectly clean. The woman, who was wearing a scandalously short skirt made of leaves and a revealing undergarment of the same material over her perky, smooth breasts, was facing away from him, dusting herself off. She reached down to pick up a plain, burlap pack, which offered Hammerbane a peak at her rump. He lowered his weapon arm, which caused the mail and plate to give a metallic rustle. The beautiful woman turned with a start, her eyes wide with fright. 

	Hammerbane stood up, holding the rock above his head.
“Have you come to harm me wench? If you have you will fail, for you stand before Hammerbane, defiler of Imog, scourge of the elves, slayer of Keigo!”
Fernweh stood in silence, looking at the massive warrior in his dirty, spike-studded black armor. He had a handsome face, and dark hair slicked back with sweat. Fernweh could sense, however, the numerous wounds, bruises and injuries his metallic shell contained.
“I would never hurt you,” Fernweh said, extending her hand “but it looks like someone has. I’m Fernweh, a nymph. I can heal you, but you need to trust me.”
Hammerbane looked from the nymph’s endearing, honest face, to her hand, to his stone, then back to Fernweh. This harlot was likely trying to get him to lower his guard, to disarm himself, so she could move in and bring him down. But, something about her, maybe her face, maybe how she stands, maybe some indistinguishable aura around her, made him want to trust her. What could this waif, this child, clearly unarmed, do to him, the terrible Dark Lord Hammerbane? If she could heal him, he might as well utilize her offer. And if it was a trap? He had destroyed cities in his grasp! Whole kingdoms had fallen before him! He could do away with one treacherous forest girl.

	Slowly, Hammerbane set the rock on the ground, never taking his eyes of Fernweh. As he stood up, he moved his hands to the strap keeping his right pauldron attached.
“Very well nymph. I will allow you to dress my wounds, and nothing more,” he said, “should you tell anyone you saw me here, I have servants who can make life very short for you.”
Undeterred, Fernweh stepped closer to him, her desire to help this strange man greater than her need to replenish her magic. She was unsure why he wore such uncomfortable looking clothes, why he acted so rude, and what had hurt him. With a few tugs and enough shuffling, Hammerbane had removed the armor protecting his right arm and shoulder. 

	“It’ll be easier if you sit down.” Fernweh said. Hammerbane did as she said, eyeing her suspiciously. “I’m serious!” she said, “This takes a while, so you should at least be comfortable! Now get that chain mail out of the way so I can see your arm.” With a grunt, the armored warrior did as she asked, revealing a deep puncture wound in his shoulder and numerous gashes and bruises along his arm. Fernweh’s eyes widened and she gasped in surprise. “Who did this to you? How could they do this?”
“Its nothing. Had worse. Now get to the healing,” Hammerbane said through clenched teeth. Fernweh gave a tiny, frustrated sigh and ran her hands along his arm, starting from the tips of his fingers and slowly, gently moving her way up, pausing to linger over the cuts and bruises that populated Hammerbane’s limb. The Dark Lord looked over his shoulder at the nymph, not expecting her to act like this. The sorcerers in his army had used healing magics by gutting a fatted sow and making the patient bathe in the entrails, none of this weak nature-magic. Still, he had to admit he enjoyed her touch. Her skin felt like softest silk, smooth and gentle, somehow failing to irritate his wounds when she touched him. After her palms left an area, it began to feel like that spot had just enjoyed a long warm shower; relaxed, warm and pleasant. His eyelids descended, her touch moving back down his arm from his shoulder, slowly stroking and rubbing his wounds. Fernweh was focusing all the magic she could on repairing the wounds along his arm, and was having to devote extra energy to remove infection and parasites from the damaged area. She was focused on the deep, bloody holes in his shoulder, but not too focused to see the Dark Lord staring at her breasts, a wry smile on his face. Fernweh blushed, unsure whether to offer him a better view or block his, but needing both hands to maintain her spell. Fidgeting a little and moving her chest, she began the penultimate step of the healing spell, massaging and kneading his flesh, relaxing the muscles and cleaning the sickness from the cuts along his forearm. Hammerbane was enjoying the little massage, and noticed the smaller cuts had begun to vanish, his skin was glistening as though it was freshly oiled. The nymph bent over his arm, pausing with her head next to his, before she looked up into his eyes, then slowly descended to his shoulder and planted a light kiss on his arrow wound. It felt heavenly, a relaxing warmth spreading through his body. She slowly planted kisses along his arm, traveling down the length of his limb until she reached his fingertips. When she gave the final kiss, the relaxing warmth in Hammerbane’s arm became an intoxicating bliss, and he could see his arm fresh, new, devoid of blemish and bruise. 

	Fernweh let out a heavy breath and fell to her knees. She felt out of breath and exhausted, the many miles she had walked all catching up to her in a split second. Her legs were sore and her feet ached from days of walking on hard earth. She had overestimated something, maybe how late in the season it was, or maybe how much power she had remaining. Regardless, several of the enchantments her body maintained had failed, and she was dead tired. 
“P-Please, stay here. I-I-I’ll do more tomorrow, in the morning.” She said. She gave an honest, friendly smile and curled up in a ball next to the armored hulk, falling into the embrace of sleep beside him. 

	“That was…unusual,” thought Hammerbane. He needed to get more space between him and his enemies, surely they were closing in around him at this very moment. But, this woman, and her lovely touch, her healing ability and admittedly, her beauty, compelled him to stay. Maybe just a few hours tomorrow, then he’d be on his way. Yes, that was the best course of action. Use her magic a bit then, ditch her. The proper way a warlord treats women. Content with his find, Hammerbane slipped back to sleep against the tree, his aching body at odds with his blissful arm.

	The Dark Lord awoke to the sun, light peaking between the autumn leaves and illuminating the small glen his slept in. Over night it had changed; the grass was rich and green, flowers blooming in abundance. Resting around his neck and on his head were flowery garlands, and though the leaves were not green, they were bright colorful reds, yellow and oranges that made the canopy vibrant and beautiful. Fernweh was nowhere to be seen, the spot where she was curled last night abloom with lilacs. Hammerbane struggled to his feet, resting his refreshed arm against the tree. He found he was especially sensitive, as though his normally calloused hand was being touched for the first time. “If that witch deserted me,” he thought, thinking of all the ways he knew to murder the woman. He dragged his feet, feeling his empty stomach hold him down, but needing to move.
“Mister? Mister? Where’d you go?” he heard Fernweh call from the far side of the verdant meadow. “I got you some breakfast, sorry if I was away!”. The nymph came prancing through the grass, a trio of large, ripe fruit in her hands. He noticed her clothes had changed; what was once a revealing tube top had become, to his disappointment, a leafy shirt that covered her breasts and shoulders. Her skirt had lengthened to her knees as well.

	“Sorry I was away, the growth spell takes longer than usual this time of year, and It was almost impossible to find a plant that’s not poisonous to humans. I’m almost sure these are ok, just so you know.” Hammerbane looked quizzically at the fruit, they were ripe and purple, probably juicy and full of flavor. He didn’t care if they were toxic, he was starving. He grabbed the first one from her violently and tore into it, taking no time to savor the rich flavors. After he was done his beard was stained purple, and he let out a satisfied burp. He reached for the next fruit, about to rip it from her hands like the last, but paused. Instead, he took it calmly and gingerly from her open arms, eating this one slower, and taking the last one at a similar pace. Between burps and gulps of delicious fruit he mouthed “thank you” to her, feeling reinvigorated. Seeing her again, aglow in the morning light, flowery garlands adorning her, thoughts of violence vanished from his mind. He couldn’t really remember why he was rehearsing the Leonian Spine Cracker, just that seeing her made him feel content. 

	Fernweh sat down in the grass, playing with the string of flowers on her head. After a moment of indecision, she patted the ground beside her, motioning for her patient to sit down. Hammerbane obliged, struggling a bit to find a comfortable position due to his remaining injuries. “You’re hurt so badly, worse than I’ve seen done to anyone before” she said. “Why would someone do this to you?” 
“A battle” he said, “we lost.”
Fernweh looked over at him, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. Hammerbane sighed and continued.
“My army was camped alongside some river. My scouts knew it’s name, but I couldn’t care. We were-”
“Are you a general?” Fernweh asked
“Lord of Darkness. Conqueror of the weak. Black Champion of  Terror. And also general, yes. We were encamped by a river, and it flash-flooded. Half my force was lost, and in the confusion my enemies attacked. They drove off my guard and though I battled them mightily, striking with my dark mace and fury, they defeated me in combat. I had to escape on my steed, and we both jumped into the river and hope we survived its flow. I am sure they are looking for me still.”
Fernweh opened her mouth at the mention of his horse, but Hammerbane preempted her.
“I had to put it down. It struggled to get through this blasted swamp, and it was suffering from more wounds than I have. Should my enemies have found it, they would have done the same as I had.”
Fernweh puzzled this. She abhorred that he had slain his animal friend, but what surprised her more was that his foes would have too.
“Why would someone want to hurt you that badly? Couldn’t they just talk to you?”
Hammerbane chuckled, amused by her naiveté. “We were…past that. Irresolvable differences and all. I had done some things that made them…upset.”
“I’m sorry, that doesn’t make sense,” Fernweh interjected. “Nobody should resort to murder, especially if they were just upset. I’m sure they could  have found a better way.”
“You no nothing of warfare,” Hammerbane said with a frown. “Killing me removes the leader of my dark horde, without a leader the dark horde stops pillaging their lands and maybe they feel vindicated for some slight I allegedly gave them. Violence can make very complicated issues very simple.”
“But, what about respect for each other’s life, what about love?”
“Not everyone thinks about those things. You‘d find most people aren’t as naïve as you.”
That made Fernweh glum. She hoped he was wrong, but something about his weary demeanor said he knew what he meant. Sighing, and trying not to make eye contact, she got up and started walking away.
“What about healing me?” Hammerbane asked. “You said we would resume in the morning.”
“Not now. I need to think about…things. Just, just stay there for a while, Ill be back soon.”

	Fernweh went for a stroll through the Lokus Liebe, slowly making her way around a large pond. Whenever the strange man said something it made her upset. He was a violent man, he had done things that made other violent men want to hurt him, and he claimed that was the natural way of things. A small part of her wanted to leave him to wallow in his misery, to abandon the foul brigand. But a greater part enjoyed his company. He was clearly interested in her, both as a companion and, maybe, something more. She relished the opportunity to touch him, to make him feel better. And clearly he adored her touch, as much as he tried to hide it, Fernweh could sense his heart beating faster, his mood improving, the anger inside him breaking up when he saw her. And when she had touched him, the cruelty and malice inside him had almost completely faded away.

	Fernweh knelt down and examined a turtle poking its head from the murky water. So much like Hammerbane, a soft, unseen creature inside a cold hard shell. Fernweh smiled at the ridiculousness of the analogy. If the “dark lord” was bettered by her touch, maybe she should work to better him. She focused inwardly, trying to gauge the amount of magic within her bosom. Sadly, she found it emptier than she had hoped. The rest had restored a large amount of her power, but she had foolishly used almost all of it up beautifying the glen she had slept in. The lilacs were an accident; when she awoke she had brushed the ground she napped on to thank it, and imparted a bit too much of her power into it. She had barely enough to maintain the enchantments on her body, and little to heal the gruff warrior back in the glen. The turtle stuck its head out further, the shape of its head and neck reminding Fernweh of something. She had ways to restore her power, and if Hammerbane adored her hand’s touch, he would love what she was planning.

	Back in the glade she found Hammerbane, still armored save for his right arm, laying on his chest and tying a few of the garlands she had conjured into a noose. When he saw her he threw it away and sat up, crossing his arms and looking at her impatiently. He had planned for the past hour on a lengthy, vitriolic speech demanding her services. But when he saw her again, and that indescribable force around her asserted itself, all that preparation vanished.
“Are you ready to aid me Fair, no, Fernweh? These injuries don’t just vanish like I wager yours do.”
“Well, I wanted to talk to you about that. The season is drawing to a close, and my magic is starting to wane. I overextended a bit making this glen bloom, and I’m a little bit, erm, dry after making you food.”
“Well what do you need from me then?” asked Hammerbane. “My court sorcerers required bloody sacrifices to perform their magics. Do you need me to hunt for a squirrel to power you?”
“Nothing so gruesome,” Fernweh said. “I’m a nymph, and like all my kin we draw magic from nature, from life. And from love.”
She paused a moment, letting that sink in. She held her arms behind her back, pushing her chest forward slightly, and crossed her legs. Hammerbane cocked an eyebrow.
“Meaning, that if you, um, if we were in love my magic would return.”
“Are you joking with me? Love is an emotion for the weak, for the feeble cowards who lie in the townships I ravage.”
“I‘m just asking for you to try. Spend some time with me, let us talk and things. Just try, please, for your sake. It couldn‘t hurt to try, right?”
Hammerbane was taken aback. His pursuers weren’t far behind, surely they would find him if he lingered here. A shooting pain went through his side, reminding him of his grave wounds. He’d seen his warriors die from lesser wounds in much less time than he’d been on the run.
“Ill stay here. Maybe a few days. Just enough so that whatever you need to do gets done, then nothing more, understand?”
Fernweh giggled, a playful smile on her face.
“Great! I promise you wont regret a thing! What would you like to do first?”

Hammerbane sat with his arms crossed and  a tired expression. Fernweh sat frozen, waiting for him to respond. She looked at him expectantly until he coughed with impatience. 
“Do you like to dance?” She said, standing up. She bounced on the balls of her feet, looking eagerly at Hammerbane.
“No.”
“Oh well, um, do you want to watch?”

	Without waiting for an answer she started bounding through the grass, vivaciously skipping and prancing in the morning light. She twirled, showing off her sensual body as her energetic movements carried her around Hammerbane; for a moment she was within arms reach before she hopped away, pirouetting and prancing back over.
“Come on, its fun! At the very least you wont be bored, why not give it a try?”
Fernewh bent over him, hands on her hips and a smug smile on her face. Hammerbane sighed and rolled his eyes, extending his armored hand for her to pull him up. The nymph recoiled from the gauntlet, her cheerful expression suddenly fearful.
“Um, sorry, could you give me your other hand? Metal and me don’t get along very well.”

	The dark lord grumbled, pulling himself up using the tree. It took a moment for Fernweh to regain her composure, then leapt into the glade. Hammerbane trudged after her. He didn’t dance, but shuffled his feet with his arms folded after her. He would never admit it, but he did like the sight of her moving so energetically, and  feigning interest in her was worth the peeks he got. Eventually she had worked up a sweat and fell to the ground, panting happily. Hammerbane sat down beside her, his arms still folded. He was hot in his black metal armor, and started to shed it, tossing it aside and leaving him clad only in his cloth undergarment.

	“Hammerbane,” she said, “that’s not a normal human name, is it? You weren’t born a Hammerbane, were you?”
“No,” he said, “It was Gregory once. Gregory Simnel. Born to a priestess of the war god and a philandering duke.”
“Duke…” Fernweh said, “Is that some kind of creature? Like an ogre?”
“No. Lesser ruler of humans, a meaningless title to give a king’s less loved relatives. They get some land and fancy clothes, enough to live life in comfort, but not enough to make them think they’re at the same level as their lord. And me, a bastard child of one of those inbred woodlice.”
Fernweh crawled over to him and rested her head on Hammerbane‘s, or Gregory’s, chest.
“You didn’t like your parents? You said they could live in comfort, that doesn’t sound so bad.”
“It is when your father considers you a mistake. My mother was cast out of her priesthood when they learned she was with child, and my father took her in, for a time. But she was depressed, sad, the meaning of her life stolen from her. She took in so much of my sire’s meager resources, and almost drove us into poverty. When the duke was fed up with the nurses and the caretakers and fired them and forced me to become a knight in a far off land, hoping his embarrassment will die and let him sink back into luxury, I started to think of other plans.”
	
	Fernweh wormed the rest of her body over, laying on his chest and playing with her hair. Hammerbane wanted to shove her off, to accost her for invading his personal space like this, but couldn’t find the energy to.
“It wasn’t long before Sir Simnel had assumed command of his force from the incompetent captain,” he continued,  “we were cold and hungry, and nobody in the army desired war with the orcs. I took my captains head, and brought an alliance with the barbarians. It was then I changed my name. No kingdom would fear the Dark Prince Simnel, no king would bow to Gregory the Terrible. It was mostly for the orcs, they respected someone with a name that violent.”
“Did all of the knights hate your captain?” Fernweh asked, looking up at him with curious eyes.
“No, but they were the minority. Our leader was an old, incompetent oaf who only found his position through birthright. And he was an awful warrior to boot. When he was put down, my companions silenced those still loyal to the captain.”
Fernweh looked down at her toes despondently.
“That…that sounds awful. Hurting all those people, just because they weren’t as, as, as mad as you were. Why did you have to go so far?”
“Again, violence makes difficult problems easy. For me, a sharp blade was always easier to wield than a sharp tongue. And we were all miserable. The campaign was a failure, none of the men cared for the cause, the orcs were savage foes and so on and so on. With all the men and orcs under my command, we marched back into my father’s land. It was my first taste of pillaging, of not having to abide by codes of honor, or chivalry, or any of the garbage they fed us knights. We butchered all we could find, taking everything for ourselves. And when we reached my father’s mansion…”
“And then what?”

	Hammerbane was shocked that the words kept coming out. Had he ever been this free with someone before? Had anyone wanted to listen? Regardless, he kept talking as his mind puzzled over this aberrant behavior.
“And then…I went in alone. Covered in the blood of the people who served the duke. Mother was the first to see me, and something about my appearance; gory, clad in martial regalia, a spirit of violence, it must have done something to her. She was a priestess of the war god after all. She did something, a blessing perhaps. She died casting it, and I just watched. But I was stronger after. Killing was easier, I could wield arms I had never touched with ease. Arrows and blades failed to touch me, for a time at least. And…I couldn’t have cared. I saw her prostrate herself to me, gasping up blood and muttering psalms, and it meant nothing. I just walked past her to where I knew my father would be, hiding in the vault beneath the house.”
“Your mother, she killed herself? Because of how you looked?”
“Maybe. It was very fast, and I never really gave it any thought. She was always a ghost to me anyways. When I found the vault, I tore the door off with my bare hands, lusting for blood and death and, and, well I’m not sure what, just wanting to kill. And my father, cowering amongst his wealth unarmed, aghast at my appearance, was the only target I had. I, I strangled him,” Hammerbane looked at the concerned Fernweh, her expression one of revulsion, pity and confusion, “relishing the look on his face. That was my first taste of conquest. And after that I couldn’t stop. My horde pillaged the countryside, took everything we could find. Thieves, highwaymen, all the violent dregs of life flocked to my banner. We grew with every battle, no army could stop me. Countless kingdoms fell to me, none could stop my conquest! Me! Hamemrbane! The Dark Lord!” He was sitting up now, his hands balled into fists, his teeth clenched. Fernweh, head still in his lap, looked up at him. His body could be healed with time, but something was still wrong inside of him.
“Do you regret it? All that meaningless violence? Now that you have nothing to show for it?”

	That took Hammerbane aback. Surely he had something to show for it. His army, gone, the plundered artifacts and loot gone, all that was left was the suit of black armor at the foot of the tree. Over twenty years of ceaseless violence, and he had sixty pounds of iron and steel to show for it. “During my reign of terror, no. Not really. But recently, ever since I’ve been on the run, its started to feel hollow. Nobody cared about Lord Hammerbane, just feared him. None of my servants, no matter how loyal, would have sat down with me and just talked. Or gone out of their way to feed and care for me if they did not fear reprisal.”
“And now that there’s someone who will?”
Hammerbane looked at her quizzically, taking a few seconds to process that she meant herself. Was she really offering all this after just meeting him? That she was so wiling to offer that emotional aid? He didn’t know what to feel, but some strange, alien feeling appeared in his heart. It felt warm and fuzzy, and Hammerbane couldn’t tell what it was.
“It isn’t bad. I would have preferred swift healing, but this is acceptable.”

	As the day went on Fernweh popped in and out of the glade, bringing flowers, plants and small animals from around the swamp. At first Hammerbane pushed her away, but as the hours crept on and his boredom reared its ugly head he started listening to her. Amazingly, the does and badgers and other small creatures she brought were unafraid of him; they nuzzled and licked the warlord like they would their own mother. The strange plants she acquired brought calming, aromatic scents into the glade, and when Fernweh spoke about each one; their history, personality, medicinal uses, favorite pollinators and so on, he couldn’t help but listen to her. The nymph’s words were like honey; sweet and intoxicating, and despite how much he tried to maintain his composure he couldn’t help but smile softly and shut his eyes when she talked to him.

	They had fallen asleep on opposite sides of the tree, but Fernweh had crawled over beside him in the dark of night. Hammerbane thought of berating her or moving himself, but the subtle warmth that emanated from her and encircled his heart held him still. As if by its own volition, the warrior’s hand rested on her shoulder, and he fell back to sleep with his head resting on hers.

	It had been two days since they met. Fernweh passed the time dancing and signing to herself, exploring the Lokus Liebe around the glade and showing Hammerbane her finds. More and more the grim warrior was captivated by her; both her supple curves and her cheery disposition. When was the last time he had felt so at peace? Even when Barro was slain his mind had still been disquiet, what about this girl enraptured him more than conquest? When she left to explore the bog he felt lonely and abandoned, when she was near his heart beat faster and that alien warmth grew within him. His demeanor softened and he felt more open with her; he shared stories of his bloody past and his conquests, finding he could his feelings and thoughts besides just the visceral facts. That she listened so intently, so clearly interested and concerned in him amazed Hamemrbane. 

	“So how do you feel?” Fernweh asked, holding the baby hedgehog in her hands. She had coaxed it from its burrow and brought the wrinkly creature to Hammerbane. The warrior scratched its snout with a fingertip before responding.
“Decent. My wounds still ache, and I woke up with an awful crick in my spine. You said the males sometimes kill their offspring? Very interesting.”
“Yeah, animals can be cruel like that. Anyways, I could help with those injuries, if you think you’re ready.”
“And what do you mean by that? Are you asking if I love you?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Or at least if you’re open to the concept.” 
Hammerbane paused, lost in thought. That emotion she asked of him, had he ever felt it? Would he know if he felt it now? He admitted to himself that he appreciated her company more than any of the women he had taken in the past; those tired, fearful harlots always with the façade of interest in him, never truly caring about him. And she was more enjoyable company than any of his military advisors or champions, no matter how loyal they were. Was this what that warm feeling that kept asserting itself inside him was; love?

	Hammerbane sighed and muttered a simple “Yes”. Fernweh grinned in response and put the baby hedgehog on the ground. The creature scampered away back to it’s den as Fernweh continued.
“There is one more thing we need to do to restore my magic. We, um, need to make love.”
Hammerbane stared at her as she played with her fingers, making crude sexual motions with her hands to illustrate what she meant.
“You want me to lay with you. Is that it? If you wanted me from the start you could have just said so.”
“It only works if its with someone who loves me in return, Gregory. Do you really feel that way about me.”
Hammerbane felt emboldened by her request and stepped forward, grabbing a handful of Fernweh’s ass with one hand and stroking her thigh with the other. 
“It hurts to be away from you Fernweh, and I feel more alive then ever when you’re around. Is that what love is?”

	Fernweh smiled in response, her eyes lighting up. “Great!” she said, “Let me just freshen up, stay right there!” Fernweh bounded off beyond the glade, leaving Hammerbane sitting alone in the grass. With some effort, he struggled out of his clothes, laying out on the warm ground. After a minute, he could hear rustling in the grass behind him. Fearing the worst, he stood up, looking for whomever was trying to ambush him. He heard a feminine giggle, and could see Fernweh crawling through the grass on all fours towards him, slithering like a buxom snake.
“I wanted to surprise you, but it looks like you’ve done that for me,” she said, staring at his maleness. She was nude, her breasts hanging down, her back curved down and her rear in the air. Her skin and hair were slightly damp, as though she had walked through a warm mist, and she glistened in the morning light. Her lips, apple-red and full, were stretched in a smile as she moved in on him. She exaggerated the movement of her hips, swaying them from far left to right with each step, making her seem so much the sexy snake in the grass. 

	Hammerbane watched her wriggle towards him, aroused by her wanton behavior. She reached him and placed her hands on his chest, just above his sternum. She looked up at him and their eyes met, hers wide and full of affection, his lidded and enjoying her satin touch on him. Placing a kiss on his chest and pressing her breasts against him, she slowly made a line of kisses down his torso, lingering around his belly button and teasing it with her tongue. She looked up at him, mouth slightly agape, pushing gently on his abdomen. Hammerbane obliged and sank onto his back, the pleasure of her attentions greater than the irritations his wounds gave him. She crawled over him, face inches from his, auburn hair hanging around her grinning visage. Slowly, she closed her eyes and pursed her lips, lowering her mouth to his. Not wanting to take his eyes off the beauty above him, Hammerbane met her kiss, but stayed fixated on her beautiful face. Their lips touched, and after a few cursory pecks, their tongues did too. She tasted like honey, her touch soft, gentle and loving, unlike the rough, tired courtesans the Dark Lord normally laid with. Their tongues danced together, exploring each other’s mouths, Fernweh occasionally taking a playful suck on her partner’s. She lowered the rest of her body until she was laying on him, pert breasts pressed against his scarred pecks. Slowly withdrawing her tongue from Hammerbane’s mouth until their faces were barely apart, she looked from his eyes, still rapt in attention, down to his penis. He was not yet erect, but she grinned and brushed the hair out of her eyes, then began to rub the lips of her sex against him, teasing him with the folds of her entrance. With a pleased moan, Hammerbane’s hands found their way to the small of her back, pushing her against her in time. Fernweh was pleased he had touched her, that he was enjoying her. She could feel her own arousal growing every time her vagina touched his member, knowing that her fey folds must feel heavenly to him. 

	She raised her head and looked down at Hammerbane, who was breathing heavily in time with her teases. With a thin grin and her eyes half-lidded, she reached back and stroked his cock, pulling it towards her. Hammerbane must have known what she was doing, for when she pulled him into her, his hands fell to her rear, gently squeezing her round bottom. His cock penetrated her warm, soft, velvet-like pussy, the feeling indescribably blissful. Slowly, she began to rotate her hips, circling the dark warrior’s penis around inside her. She lowered upper body back down onto him, pressing her tits as close to his torso as she could and resting her chin on his right shoulder.
“Do you feel for me?” she whispered into his ear as she began to raise, then lower, her hips, his member penetrating just a little deeper with each repetition.
“Mhhhm. I feel something nymph. Please, don’t stop. This feels great.” With that, he brought his arms up around her, holding her close. One hand found its way to her hair, stroking and playing with the silky strands that framed her head. The other toyed with the side of one of her breasts, feeling the soft, wet flesh and the erect nipple. Fernweh gave a pleased “mmmmm”, picking up speed as he embraced her and adding an excited buck of her hips at the apex of each descent. She could feel his affection for her, both sexual and otherwise, and could feel her magic returning, like a bright golden warmth in her breast. Arching her back and raising her head, she gave an excited little moan as he pinched her nipple. Picking up the pace, she could feel him thrust up into her in time, his member rock hard and slick with her juices. She began to moan in time with his thrusts, his hands moving back down to her butt, pushing her in close when he entered her and giving her an enjoyable squeeze when she retracted. 
“Ooh, don’t stop Fernweh. You’re incredible.” he said between pleased grunts, his numerous injuries all but forgotten in the blissful sex. 

	He could feel himself start to quiver, to reach an excited orgasm. He wanted to go faster, to fuck his nubile lover hard and fast, to pound her pussy with reckless abandon. But for the first time in his sex life he cared for his partner. He wanted to her to enjoy it, to feel as comfortable and blissful and content as he did. He felt that strange emotion Fernweh mentioned earlier, wanting to make his partner happy more than he wanted to selfishly fuck her. He restrained himself, willing himself not to orgasm, instead making sure his thrusts had more power, more force to them, trying to bring the panting nymph above him to cum. Her lithe back was arched and her eyes closed, and when he moved one of his hands to her sensitive clit, she threw her head back and moaned. His attentions to her button were gentle and smooth, but rapid enough to excite Fernweh’s already powerful libido. An orgasm was building swiftly, and her magical senses told her Hamemrbane was nearing one too.
“Ooo, yes,” she said through groans of pleasure, “Cum with me Hammerbane, fill me up with seed.”

	Her lewd moans, her jiggling breasts above him, her rapid thrusts on his cock, all worked together to overwhelm Hammerbane. Fernweh’s pussy contracted on him, squeezing his phallus and pulsing with orgasmic force. That pushed the Dark Lord over the edge, gasping as he released inside Fernweh, spilling his seed in the fey’s loins. She let out a deep, satisfied moan in response, loving the feel of the warrior’s orgasm. Fernweh slid down his cock, Hammerbane’s seed filling body her as the magic of their sex filled her soul. Soon, the two were panting in the grass, beads of sweat on Hammerbane’s brow, as Fernweh slowly pulled Hammerbane’s penis out. Still wet with her juices, she gave a sultry wink and locked her lips around the organ. Slowly taking it in, she sucked the remaining juices off Hammerbane’s penis, not breaking the oral seal until she was at the very tip of his head. She then slid next to Hammerbane, lying on her side and holding him, one arm under his neck and one over his chest, resting her head on his broad shoulders.

	“You, wow, seem to have quite the experience Fernweh.” Hammerbane said, the aftershocks of his orgasm still rippling through his body.
“Mhhhm,” Fernweh said, breathy and sweet “It may not look it, but I’m many times your senior, o terrible Dark Lord.” 
Hammerbane was taken aback, and recoiled a bit.
“Oh don’t be so melodramatic. Nymphs like me outlive the elves by many seasons, and we take many lovers in that time. But worry not, we don’t take illness from our unions, and we only bear children when we deem it fit. And I still am young for my kind, both in mind and body. I hope that’s not too vulgar for you.” Hammerbane couldn’t bring himself to anger against her, kindness overpowering any apprehensions he had towards her. “And with each lover, I find I can love each one more than the last,” she added. He could feel her hands begin to rub his chest and shoulders, that warm, magical touch from earlier causing his torso to tingle. “So is that what love is? I,  heh, regret going so long without it. It feels…good. I cant really say how, just sort of right. Like stepping out of a warm bath, except on the inside too.”
“Well, you don’t have to go without it any more.” Fernweh said, rubbing her face against his newly soft, replenished skin.

	They would spend the day in each other‘s arms, the pair sharing stories; Hammerbane of his conquests, of far away lands, of cultures and creatures Fernweh had never imagined. And though he liked to focus on the martial details, how he had killed them, the caliber of fallen kingdom’s warriors, Fernweh was always more interested in the places themselves; how the people lived, what they ate, the weather, and so on. She told him of where she had traveled, of her search for a new home, of the antics of her sister nymphs. She told him of the intricacies of nymph magic, how the seasons, the weather, the climate and more could play havoc with her powers. She would use some of those powers to feed Hammerbane; for lunch, fresh strawberries, and for dinner, savory tubers from the bog. She would heal his other limbs, his back, his face, each part of his body becoming replenished and rejuvenated. Hammerbane insisted on putting on his chain mail, refusing to go naked through the thorns and bristles of the swamp. She made sure not to touch him for too long at these times; prolonged contact with iron would sap her of her powers. Fernweh wanted to stay in the nude, but to make her partner more comfortable, she grew her skirt and top again, adding a bit of cleavage just to tease him. And at night, at night they joined again, Fernweh straddling him, milking his cock for pleasure and power.

	One day, Fernweh crawled up behind her lover as he was polishing his armor. He never wore the full set, but he spent the time every day to keep it as pristine as he could. She draped her arms over his neck and rested her head on his shoulder, her long ears touching the far side of his head. She stayed like that for a second, Hammerbane frozen halfway between strokes on his breastplate. “Yes?” he asked. “Could you tell me about somewhere you’ve been? Maybe the strangest place you, I guess the word visited isn’t appropriate, but you get the ideas.” 
“I get it. But first, you were going to tell me the one you promised last night. The one with the naiads.”
“Oh, right.” Fernweh gave a little giggle. “So naiads are a kind of nymph, like me, but they live in the water all the time. Picture me with long black hair, big black eyes, pale white skin and you’re halfway there. Naiads love transparent silk veils for some reason, I never saw the point, no point in wearing something over yourself if everyone can just see through it.” Hammerbane looked behind him at the skimpy tube-top Fernweh had grown for herself today and raised an accusatorial eyebrow. “What? That’s different. I learned early on to cover up some spots around humans, even if the reasons for it are weird. And besides, its nice to leave a few choice areas to the imagination. Sure got you to peek didn’t it? You wouldn’t have been so curious if a nude nymph fell on you, would you?” “Id be more confused than anything.” Hammerbane muttered.
“Ok, well, I was a lot younger, and I was crossing this river. It was midsummer, so I had lots of power available to me. Way more than you see me now, like, I could have healed you in one sitting at my height. So I walk up to the river, and I tell the river “Please part, I need to get across”.  And, being a nice river, it does, it stops flowing for a few minutes. But when its dry for that short time, these two naiad sisters, and I guess that makes them my sisters, but we’re kinda weird like that, were playing at the bottom. And they weren’t that happy I just dried up the river, even though they could ask it to start flowing again. They just thought it was rude, I guess. You would have loved them, I bet. Long, jet black hair that went down to their bums, skin the color of the moon, wearing those silly diaphanous silk sheets. And these big, full bosoms, bigger than mine are now. And these two are all wet, because they’re naiads and they spend all the time in the river. But anyways, I start to walk across the river bed and when I get to the other side these two naiads come out from downstream and say “Hey, sister Fernweh, was it you who dried up the river without asking us?” and I didn’t want to lie to them, they are my sisters after all, so I say yes. So they say “Well, you need to pay us back. We don’t like people messing with our river, even if it is our sister nymph.”

	“You said midsummer was the height of your power, couldn’t they just use theirs to bring the river back?” asked Hammerbane. 
“Yeah, but like I said, it was probably about me not respecting them. Like if one of your soldiers decided to use your sword without asking first. Sure, you could take it back easy, but that’s not the point. So I ask them how, and they giggle, and say I need to play with them for one day for every minute it takes the river to start back up. At first I thought they were being unreasonable, but then I thought “Why not, might be fun.” So it takes ten minutes for the river to come back, and he’s really sorry to the naiads about listening to a different nymph. So that’s ten days of playing with the naiads. The first day, they wanted to play with me and me alone. First they started swimming around me, because we did everything underwater and I can breathe underwater just fine, those stupid silk garments flowing in the water around me. Then they started touching me, feeling my sex, my breasts, the nape of my neck. If you think just me alone feels good, try two naiads, at the height of their power, in their home environment. Anyways, they start feeling me up, and one of them is behind me and the other in front. So the one in front swims down a bit and starts kissing my groin, and at first I was confused, but then she starts licking me, and it feels great. Her tongue is nice and cool, and it tickles a bit, and it feels amazing. And while she’s doing that, the one behind starts squeezing my breasts, and she puts a finger on my chin and turns my head to hers and we kiss. It was the first time I kissed another nymph, and my first time with another female anything.”

	Hammerbane had dropped the piece of armor was completely fixated on Fernweh now. “Go on,” he said. “So that goes on for a while, and we all take turns kissing and licking each other, and we all feel so great together, and that goes on for like three days. But on day four, there’s this boy, not really old, playing by the side of the river. And the naiads say we’re going to go play with him. So we talk about it, and all three of us swim up near him, and poke the tips of our heads out of the water. At first he’s terrified, three long-eared women popping out of the river, two of them almost naked, one totally. And the two naiads slowly get out of the water, shaking their hips and doing a dance, arms above their heads, gyrating bellies and all that. And he’s loving it, trust me, so I crawl up to him, looking him dead in the eye, and while the naiads are dancing around us I kiss him, and he kisses back. He must have thought this was a dream come true. So I kiss him for a long time, and the naiads stop dancing and lay down next to us, and they tell the river to let him breathe underwater. The river doesn’t really want to, he hates when things from the land breathe underwater, but he listens to the naiads. So we slowly slink back into the water, and give him a ‘come hither’ little glance, and he dives right in. And he was freaking out, thinking he was gonna drown, but the naiads hold him and kiss him and play with him and make him feel happy, and he calms down. So for the rest of the fourth day, the older sister and him are together, and the younger sister explains when they do this they each get one day with the human completely by themselves, and then they both get him at the same time.”

	Hammerbane and Fernweh had fallen to a sitting position, backs resting against the big tree at the center of the glade. Hammerbane’s hand was in her hair, playing with the strands, while she had hers wrapped around his waist. He had stripped off his chain mail so she could sit with him, wearing the simple undergarment he wore underneath. “So I didn’t get to see the other nymphs playing with him, so while one of them was with the boy, one stayed with me. Sometimes they would put their fingers inside me, sometimes we would rub our vaginas together, sometimes squeeze each other‘s breasts, plenty of things. Anyways, my turn with the boy comes around, and I don’t know what they were feeding him but he has this huge smile glazed on his face. He‘s in ecstasy, loving every minute with the nymphs.”
“And you and he…” Hammerbane said, his hand sliding down to Fernweh’s shoulder, rubbing it slowly and tenderly. It was hard getting used to his new skin; gone were the calluses and scars. His skin was as fresh as a baby’s, devoid of the marks that his life as a warrior had accrued. 
“Yes,” said Fernweh. “For a whole day. If he hadn’t been with a woman before, the sisters definitely gave him the experience when he got to me. I wrapped my legs around him, and he started to pound me, and I could see the naiads peeking from behind some rocks, but I didn’t care. The boy wanted nothing more than to lay with me, and I loved to oblige him. We floated in the middle of the river, wrapped around each other, just making love for a long time, until he tired out and couldn’t go any longer. So then, we just kind of held each other, rubbing against each other, stroking each other’s curves, until he’s ready to go again. He can’t talk underwater, so he starts pointing to my mouth, and then to his penis, and at first I don’t get it, but he does this with his hand,” Fernweh mimed giving a hand job, “and I got it. So I swam down a bit, and then I had this great idea. I spin us around so his head is looking at my sex, and I’m down at his. So I start licking it, and he does the same to me. Then I put it in my mouth, and as I was sucking on it he put his tongue inside me, and he wiggles it around and it feels just as good as the nymphs‘. And there’s bubbles coming out of my mouth around his cock, and he just seems to like it more so I suck harder, trying to get all of it inside me.”

	Hammerbane’s other hand had found it’s way to Fernweh’s thigh, rubbing her as she recounted her tale. She put her hand on his, guiding it and holding on to him.
“And when he releases inside me, he figures he’s done for the day, so he goes to sleep. The naiads come up to me and giggle and are talking about how much it looked like I like him, and their weren’t wrong. They made fun of me for swallowing his seed, but it was in good fun, and I bet they’d done just as much in their time with him. So the day we share him comes around, and he’s overjoyed to see us all again. This time we did it on the banks, just so gravity could help us a bit. The naiads finally dispensed with those dumb sheets they wore, but we each had a lily in our hair for the occasion. So he lies on his back and the youngest sister climbs up on him first. And the older sister climbs onto his face, and he starts licking her while the other naiad is riding his cock, and she is loving it, moaning and cooing, her big breasts going up-down-up-down. So the other naiad leans in to her sister and kisses her while she’s getting licked, and they hold each other for a while, making out while getting licked and laid. The one on his cock gets tired, so she gets off and starts rubbing herself, the other sister moves to his member, and I get on his face. And he’s clearly tired, because he’s not licking nearly as much as he did last time. But the naiad on his penis is doing all the work, and he’s enjoying her, and she pulls me in and kisses me and pinches my nipple, and the whole thing is going off better than we had hoped. I’m about to switch to riding him when there’s this big splash upriver, and we all turn to look at what it is. Except the boy, that is. ‘Cause one of the naiads is sitting on his face. And this huge thing comes out of the river, it looks like an alligator, but it has a hairy man’s face and the tail of a beaver. And it has these huge sharp fangs, and its looking like it’s going to eat us. I was freaked out, so I ran, and I used lots of magic to make it so I could get away. But then the naiads talked to me through the water, and they were mad I didn’t help them get rid of it, and they had to do it all on their own and save the boy, so now I owe them the three days I didn’t play with them, plus another ten to make up for my cowardice, should I ever come near that river again.”

	She had guided his hand up her leg to her slit, rubbing it slowly as she leaned into him. “Are you planning on going back there? Sounds like you had a great time.” Hammerbane said.
“Mmm, not for a while. They were nice, but really selfish. Maybe once I’ve learned some tricks to one-up them, make the wait worth while and all that. Ooo, right there. You were going to tell me about a strange place you went to, part of the deal Gregory.”

	Slowly rubbing her and playing with her hair, he tried to think of a tale without excessive gore to tell her. “It was three, no four years ago. My horde was fresh from defeating the griffon-men of Storm Peak, and we were relishing the chance to use the mighty lances and spears we had stolen from them. On the far side of Storm Peak was the kingdom of Lesser Diew.”
“And Greater Diew?” asked Fernweh between pleased sighs.
“Never existed. The rulers of Diew thought the land was an inferior version of some heavenly kingdom in the sky, their founders cast down for some ancient sin.”
“And you believe…?” 
“That if an entire kingdom was that gullible, it would be easy plunder. We camped on Storm Peak for about a week, sending down scouting teams periodically to check the terrain, to spy on the land, gauge their military, etcetera. They found that Lesser Diew had almost no army to speak of, just a police force and some knights errant. As we made our way down the mountain we met lots of rural types; goat herds, woodsmen, those sorts.”
	Hammerbane inserted a fingertip into Fernweh, which elicited a soft moan. “What was odd was they weren’t fleeing, weren’t panicking at the sound of wardrums, boots and the howls of the orcish warriors. They were coming up to the vanguard and-”
“Which is what?”
“A vanguard? Front of the army. My toughest men, mostly ex-knights and traitorous shield bearers. These farmers would approach the vanguard with baskets of food, flowers, one even offered his daughter. Needless to say, we took whatever they gave us, but we were a little confused. We had made it down the mountain and into Diew’s countryside, and no force, not even a militia had moved to oppose us. The place looked strange, even by our standards. Tall baobab trees, orange grasses, and spider webs. Spider webs everywhere. The lesser men were happy, almost ecstatic, thinking we had frightened off any resistance with our mere presence. The veterans were on edge however, so I called together my advisors, my commanders and my oldest warriors to discuss this. We all agreed this was unusual, that they were likely setting a trap. We had all seen occasions where a smaller force had, through guile and trickery, routed a larger one, and were on our guard for such an occasion.”

	Slowly pulling the finger in and out of the nymph, he could feel her wetness begin to coat him. Slowly, her hand began to crawl up his legs towards his crotch. “My closest advisor suggested sending a herald to the nearest town to investigate; no use having whatever trap they were preparing spring on the bulk of the dark horde. I had my standard bearer, Baulron the Black, ten of my finest warriors and twenty orcish brigands ride out while I briefed the troops on our suspicions. A lull fell over the horde, their former exuberance dulled by my sobriety. Like most of them, I longed for battle, this strange walk through the countryside, being handed bounty from what was usually our first victims was wrong. Some of the lesser warriors with shorter tempers took this frustration out on the farmers, cutting them down where they stood, even as they offered us a harvest of apples. Soon, Baulron and his guard returned, showing no signs of battle, a smile on Baulron’s face. This was rare, Baulron had suffered a scar early in his career that made smiling painful to him. He tells me that there is a city not a days ride from here, and that in that city the High Priest of Diew, along with the rest of his foolish clergy are waiting. He says they greeted him with open arms and gave him a great number of golden jewelry and chalices, and told him that they would love to see the lord of whatever host they rode from. Baulron was suspicious, as he should be, but he could spy no arms among the city’s populace. In fact, they greeted him like it were a parade day. Naturally, I had to see this for myself. I gathered my personal guard, all dressed in their darkest, cruelest armors, flying bloody banners and carrying cursed blades. We rode into the city like a storm, a fleet of dark bodies entering the main thoroughfare. All spikes and blades, we would have made the greatest of warriors tremble. Instead, these simpletons in the streets through flowers at us, and cheered at our entrance.”
“Well that doesn’t sound so bad.” Fernweh said, sliding her hand into Hammerbane’s bottoms, stroking his dick with her silky fingers. 
“It is when your life is a constant quest to be as frightening, as terrible, as menacing as you can. For years I had ravaged the land as the Terrible Lord Hammerbane! And these cretins, they had the nerve, the gall, to treat me like some pompous prince? I was about to take this rage out on them when that high priest appeared before us. He said some drivel about an ancient prophecy, how a host of men, avatars of the Crow-God, black as night, would ride from Storm Peak and return them to Greater Diew, absolving them of their ancient sin. They believed they would be led by the reincarnation of the Crow-God’s child, a warrior of supreme skill. They said I, the lord of the Dark Horde, might be the warrior the prophecy told of. But he said he had to prove it, that if the ancient test of righteousness succeeded, they would know I am the prophesized one.”
“And the test? What was that?” She asked as she jerked off Hammerbane, trying to keep time with his insertions into her.
“They had this beast in captivity in their main chapel, apparently they hunted them and kept them as status symbols, this one of the highest breed. They wanted me to fuck it, to make a child with it. If the child was born alive, I was the prophesized one. If no child came by year’s end, I was an imposter.”
“So you laid with, with, whatever it was? How was it?”
“Well, yes and no. I was insulted they thought they could order me around, so we cut them down where they stood, routing the peasantry and placing that zealot’s head on a pike on top of the chapel so all could see. What little armed forces they had were nothing to me and my foulest warriors, each one possessing at least one hundred kills to his name,  a cursed weapon and a steed bred from The Dark Stallion of Tineraeth. Only after the city was aflame, the gold, food, coinage and all valuables carted away did I venture into the chapel. I never liked being in religious buildings, they set me on edge. But there in the chapel, chained up to the alter, was this creature. Her lower body was that of a great spider, nearly the size of a horse. Her upper body however, was that of a purple skinned woman, nude, with black tattoos on her abdomen, upper body and face. Her long red hair was up in a loose ponytail, and she was looking right at me. Where the human met the spider was a dripping slit, bigger than a humans, but puffy and inviting nonetheless. She moaned when she saw me and tried to move against the chains, her bloated spider body straining to reach me. I went over to her and disrobed, making use of her breasts before I-”
	“Don’t tell me Gregory, show me” Fernweh said, having brought him to a full erection, her pussy now wet with lubricant. 
“Well, first I did this…” he said, groping her breasts, squeezing them. Gone was the gentle touch from earlier, he violently kneaded her breast flesh between his muscular fingers, pulling her top down beneath her tits. Fernweh writhed under his suddenly aggressive touch, enjoying it, but still surprised.
“Then I made her take it here…” He pushed her onto her side so she was laying with her face near his erect cock. He pressed it into her waiting lips, the apple-colored orifice forming a tight seal around him. She looked up at her lover, and began to gently suck up and down the member. “Sorry, you wanted me to show you,” he said, and put his hands on her head, forcing her down his cock. She gagged a bit, not expecting the brutish behavior. Still, she savored his taste, his attention, the affection he had for her filling her up with excess power. She played with the penis in her mouth with her tongue, wrapping it around it, tickling it, gulping on his cock as it was forced down her throat. When she had reached his scrotum he held her there, and with one hand gave her rear a playful spank. “On her that was on the spider part, so you get off easy.” He withdrew from her mouth, a few strands of saliva trailing from the nymph’s face to his slick penis.
“She was wanton, she craved me. I was happy to oblige.” With that, he picked her up by her armpits and pressed her against the tree so she was facing him, the two standing up. He picked up one leg and raised it, then inserted himself. Fernweh’s breathing grew deeper and heavier, enjoying the energetic sex. Hammerbane pistoned himself in and out, still taking care to make sure she was comfortable, and refraining from fucking her as hard as he did the spider woman. She writhed under him, bucking her hips in time with his thrusts, reaching out a hand behind his neck and drawing him close for a kiss. They kissed deeply, tongues ravishing each other. When they parted, he thrust deeper, harder, trying to bring his lover to orgasm. She could feel herself coming, imagining herself as the purple arachnid, taking the same cock the same way, fantasizing about living in her lover’s past. With a massive thrust, she clamped down on him gasping for breath as her orgasm sent shudders through her glistening, nubile body. Still, he kept fucking, only picking up pace when her felt her cum.
“Right on time Fernweh, just like she did. Sorry about this, but you said  you wanted it just like her!” With an evil grin on his face, he gave a trio of thrusts as hard as he could manage, hilting himself each time. His lover rocked under the vigorous assault, the third penetration bringing him over the edge, and he emptied himself into her at the apex of the thrust, not withdrawing an inch until every drop was spilt.

	The two collapsed to the bog floor in a sweat, both panting heavily. “W-w-whew. What happen, happened after?” Fernweh asked, gasping for air. That comment gave Hammerbane pause, his expression growing dower.
“I freed her. She followed the dark horde for a while, and originally I kept her to myself, a private consort. She wanted me, lusted for me, but unlike you, there was no love. Just a desire to breed, like a common animal. She was skilled in battle too, strong as an ox and thrice as fast. Eventually, I grew weary of her attentions, and passed her around my favored warriors. I doubt she liked that, I think she thought I was her mate or some other such foolishness. She didn’t enjoy them like me, only enduring their touch to please me. In some time, one of my champions was frustrated by her disinterest, and thrust his blade through her instead of his cock. The thing was, I never mourned her loss. She was just another treasure to be looted, a spoil of war.”
“And what do you think of her now? It sounds like she did care about you, at least in some strange way.”
“Maybe she had something, maybe if I had returned her attentions with something other than disdain and sex, we could have been something. But we were both too stupid; her due to her species, and me to my foolishness, to ever try that. We didn’t speak the same language, so I never considered her anything but a trophy. A prize that happened to have a cunt attached. It was not like you, like us. And its different, not having the dark horde around to judge me. Even if I had some feeling for her, I wouldn’t have shown it with my legion of villains around. Imagine the scorn they would have, knowing I had fallen for something so weak, so frail as you.”
“You needn’t worry,” she said, “The you that’s here, that’s with me, is better than the Hammerbane of the dark horde. You don’t have to worry about people judging you, scorning you. You don’t need to worry about him, or what he did. As long as we’re together, nothing he did can harm you.”
“Thank you Fernweh, but I pray that what you say is true.”
“And for the record, I‘m not weak.”
 
	It would continue like this for a long time, longer than Hammerbane would like to admit. The glen was constantly growing, with flowers blooming, fruits and berries growing for him to eat, the grass forming soft beds for him. But for Fernweh, it was not as pleasant. Every day she could feel it grow a little colder, and she would need more and more from their unions, drawing them out longer or more frequently, starting to demand things from him, like asking him to describe how he felt towards her during the act, to scream that he loved her over and over, to hold her for a day at a time, never for a minute letting go of her flawless form. At first, Hammerbane struggled to cooperate. He thought this relationship was about her caring for him, not the reverse. But as the thought about it, he could feel that love required that; somehow this foreign emotion, this parasite that had taken up residence in his heart, compelled him to care for her just as much as she did for him. That soft beauty she had, that strange aura, that warm feeling of pure kindness. As much as he wanted to tell her it was ridiculous, that he would not scream out his affections, some combination of those and that alien feeling in his bosom overpowered his rational mind, made him do these ridiculous things.
	
	But still, Fernweh could feel a different power work on her. A desire to move, to find someplace new, a wanderlust she had known all her life. As much as she loved Gregory, as much as his affections were strong and true, she knew she couldn’t stay here for long. His tales had inspired her more than anything; there was a world out there, full of strange places and peoples, not just this one glade in the Lokus Liebe. It pained her to think such things, but every day her longing to move grew, even as her lover showered her with affection. 
It was night, the sky cloudless, a full moon filling the verdant glen with soft moonlight. Frogs and crickets filled the air with their calls, hoping to find one last mate before winter. Hammerbane was curled up beside the nymph, starting to drift to sleep, even as Fernweh stared wide eyed at the canopy. 
“Gregory,” she said in a voice that was soft, but conveyed an air of worry.
“Mph. What is it? I’m still spent from the last one, and you said you had enough for tomorrow.”
“Its not that. You’re great, both in bed and as a companion. And I really mean that, I can feel your heart, your feelings, and they’re stronger and truer than anyone’s. It’s, well, you love me, right?”
“Of course Fernweh, of course.”
“I know, its just that, you want what’s best for me, right? For me to happy, healthy, all that?” she said, slowly rubbing her hand up and down his chest.
“Yeah, I’ve been trying my hardest to accommodate you’re needs, I know I’m-” said Hammerbane, nuzzling her armpit.
“No, not that. You’ve been doing great. I appreciate everything you’ve done. But I was talking with the sky and the clouds the other day, and they said a cold front is coming, maybe four days from now. A real bad one to, it’s probably going to kill most of the weaker plants around here.”
“And that’ll ruin your powers. Right, you told me about that stuff. What do you need from me? A whole day of lovemaking? Some grand display of affection? I was thinking about those wreathes of flowers you made, and there’s this thing I learned to do with chains, and maybe I could make something nice with them, provided the fundamentals are all the same.”
“That’s not what I meant. I have to leave Gregory, to get far from here, before the cold gets here. I’ve been rationing power, and I could get out of the Lokus Liebe in about a day. It’s so I can stay with you until it’s about to hit, these last three days. I’m sorry Gregory, but I need to do this. You understand, don’t you?”
	Hammerbane was shocked, the one thing his brief new life was build around about coming to an end. The first woman he had ever loved, leaving him, maybe never to be seen again.
“Can’t I come with you? You don’t need to leave me Fernweh, I love you! I can keep pace, I’m used to forced marches, we could stay together!” he said, his heart racing, a cold sweat forming on his brow. 
“I believe you Gregory, I really do. I want you to stay with me, for us to be together. But, well, I planned this, and there’s cliffs, and deep bogs, and probably a lair of a troll or something. I don’t want you to get hurt Gregory. I’ll be moving nonstop, over terrain normal humans cant manage. You wont have time to eat, to use the bathroom, to sleep. And I’d move faster than you could manage in this marsh. You’ve got to believe me, I want nothing more than for you to come with me, but it just cant happen. Please Gregory, lets make these last three days last.”

	A maelstrom of conflicting emotions fought inside Hammerbane; sadness, anger, loss, disappointment, loathing, guilt. As much as he wished otherwise, Fernweh was right. He would only slow her down, prevent her from escaping the dreaded cold. But he wanted her, he wanted her more than any jewel or treasure he had longed for in his conquests. Even without his army he would have torn down a giant’s fortress for her, battled a dragon armed with nothing but a sharp branch, endure the torture-spells of Caanya the witch all over again for her. But he had to do something harder than all those combined; let her go, live his life without Fernweh, without his cherished love. He could feel his eyes begin to puff up, tears threatening to escape them, behavior totally unsuited for a grim warrior such as him.
“You really mean it,” he said, forcing himself not to sob, though he knew Fernweh could sense the desire to within him. “You’re really doing this to me.”
“I don’t want to my love, you have to believe me.”
“I do Fernweh, I do. It’s just, how do you expect me to go on without you? To go back to the world without your touch, your voice, your, your, your you?”
“I know it’ll be hard Gregory, I know, I’ve seen lovers destroyed by this, but I know you can do it. You’re strong, Gregory, and you have the capacity for so much love, more than I thought possible when we met, that the world out there will love you back. Somewhere, Gregory, is someone who will love you just as much as I did, maybe more, and who you will love just as much. I envy them, someone who can grow old with you, who will get to raise children you both love with you, someone who can stay with you for years and years without fearing the weather. But you need to find them Gregory, and that wont happen if you stayed in this glen with me.”
Hammerbane was silent. He wanted to scream in protest, he wanted to tell her she was wrong, to damn all others and scream that he wanted no one but her. But he couldn’t. She was right, there was a greater world out there, for both of them, and their lives were taking them in different directions. What if his pursuers found them together, would they hurt Fernweh to get to him? And even if he could fight them off, could he spend his whole life fearing his past could harm his loved one?
“Fine Fernweh. I understand. But please, I want these last days with you to be special.”
“Don’t worry my love,” she said, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “They will be.”

	She was not wrong. Her last days with Hammerbane were long, warm and full of love. The days began with sex, Fernweh initiating it at first, but Hammerbane taking over after the first morning. Hammerbane restrained himself, making sure each moment was as long and pleasurable as he could. He partook in her more secret passions; tonguing her as she sucked on him, tickling her ears as they made love and sucking on her soft, delicate fingers. They would cuddle afterwards, both cherishing every moment they spent in each other’s arms, every second of post-coital bliss treasured. Fernweh showed him parts of the swamp by the glen he had not yet seen; beautiful waterfalls and verdant islands holding out against autumn’s advance. She called the animals to him, and they approached without fear, dear, squirrels and birds allowing themselves to be touched and played with. They ran together, chasing after each other in the blooming glen, Fernweh easily able to stay ahead of him, but making sure to let him catch her now and then. And when night fell, she would take him to a bare hill she had found, where no tree obscured the sight of the sunset, and made love as each night fell. 
She would return to the glen ahead of him, always with a surprise; once a feast of ripe fruits and vegetables, including small spicy peppers and hearty, meaty tubers. Once he found her having grown an elegant gown of red and yellow leaves, a trim of pink flowers at the hem of the skirt and around her cleavage. They had danced together, her knowing energetic, vivacious nymph dances, him barely knowing a step beyond parade ground drill, but trying nonetheless. And on the third night, he had found her laid out on a field of roses, just as red and full as her lips. She was wearing a luxurious undergarment of foliage, with ivy pantyhose, a garter belt of vines, a skimpy bra of leaves and a scandalous c-string of orchid petals. He had peeled them off, revealing her charms and touching them as lovingly as he ever had, every moment a blissful happiness. Hammerbane didn’t even think to polish his armor during these three magical days, the desire to keep his last vestige of command pristine far outweighed by his desire for Fernweh.
	
	But every night as he slept he could not escape the emptiness in life that awaited him. No matter what, he feared for when she would leave him, when he would never feel her warm, magical touch, hear her soft, playful voice or feel his heart melt when he saw her beautiful figure again. He hated himself for thinking so, but he wanted to make her stay with him, to keep her like he would a trophy of war. Every night his dread would grow, threatening to overwhelm him. He turned in his sleep, and as she slept beside him Fernweh could feel his anxiety in her sleep. It was eating him from inside, and on the third night he could feel the part of his mind that planned invasions, that calculated how to breach a castle going wild for a way to stay with his darling Fernweh.

	It was the morning of the fourth day. Fernweh had gathered her pack after their morning coitus, growing a comfortable set of warm traveling pants of autumn leaves and a matching tube-top, as well as a coat of warm, insulating ferns. Hammerbane had struggled to get up, wishing that her confession that she was leaving was a mistake, a dream, an illusion conjured by her magic. Fernweh turned to say goodbye to him, one arm crossed over her body holding her other arm‘s elbow, shoulders slumped. She forced herself to smile at him, sensing the sadness inside him, which was spreading to her as well. He looked at her, eyes locked with hers.
“Well Gregory, I guess this is it. I loved our time together, I really did.”
“I know Fernweh, I know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I will miss you more than anything.”
“Me too Gregory, me too. I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, I love you, and I would hate for you to think I’m doing this to be away from you.”
“Yeah, I suppose that’s it then. Goodbye Fernweh, I hope your travels lead you somewhere nice.”
“You too,” she said, embracing him. He returned the gesture, savoring her touch, slowly feeling all her curves one last time. Their lips locked in a final kiss, tongues tentatively touching, trying to make every moment last. When they finally parted, she slowly withdrew her hug, stepping back and giving a somber nod to her lover. She walked a few steps away before half-turning, taking one last look at the Dark Lord Lance Hammerbane as he stood silently in the fading glen, the magic leaving the foliage as she left his life. She forced herself to smile, and blew him a kiss, shouldering her pack and walking out of sight.

	She had walked for a few minutes, heart heavy and feet light. The spell she had been preparing for the past week enabled her to cover great strides of ground in a short time, and she was preparing for the release of the magic required to activate it when she heard rumbling in the underbrush behind her. Her senses, dulled by the lateness in the season struggled to identify the source. Hammerbane surged forth from behind a bush, his face flush, mouth open, hair whipping behind him as he sprinted towards her. His brow was covered in sweat, his eyes wide and angry. On his arms were pieces of his armor; vambraces, gauntlets, rebraces and spiky bits of dark iron. She stared wide eyed at the mad warrior as he charged at her, uncomprehending and confused. He ran up to her, panting from sprinting through the murk and mire to reach his love, before violently reaching out and grabbing her by the elbow with his iron gauntlet.

	Instantly she could feel the cold metal sap her magic, her abilities vanishing in a split second. “I won’t let you leave me Fernweh!” he screamed, staring at her with quivering pupils. “I can’t let you leave! You have to stay with me!” He grabbed the speechless nymph with his other hand, holding her arms still. The touch of the hated metal was stupefying, and she struggled to see straight at the man who held her captive. Breathing heavily from anger and exhaustion, he turned the nymph around and pushed her to the ground, always keeping at least one gauntlet on her. “You can’t do this to me, you can’t do this to me, you cant…” he mouthed over and over, gripping her elbows as hard as he could. With one hand he pushed her head to the ground and pulled her ass up, barely focused eyes staring at her raised rump. 
“Gregory, please…” she said, fearing what the mad warrior could do to her. Her heart was beating rapidly, both in fear and, surprisingly, arousal. She still was attracted to him, and he had never treated her like this before. Keeping one of his unholy gauntlets locked on her elbow, he gripped her autumnal trousers and pulled, the magic-sapping gloves causing the pants to fracture into a small pile of leaves around Fernweh’s forelegs. He did the same to her coat, and then her top, leaving her naked in a pile of fall colored foliage. She raised her head and looked back to Hammerbane, eyes wide in fear, slightly puffy with sadness. Before she could speak his armored hand returned to her head, the iron that was her bane addling her mind and robbing her of speech for a moment. He pushed her face back down to the ground and muttered “Stay.” She complied, not wanting to anger him, but also curiously interested. 

		His hands slid back down her shoulders to her elbows, pulling back and holding them as handles. Briefly letting go with his left, he fished his cock out from his pants where it hung limply. Bringing his hips forward and pulling back on her arms, he brought her hands close enough to his crotch that her fingertips could just touch his cock. Fernweh was scared, she hadn’t been in a position of sexual submission like this before. With his ironclad arms Hammerbane could hurt her, could break her like a twig if he felt like it. But somehow, as much as it surprised her, she couldn’t help but like it, to be at his mercy, to be totally helpless in his arms. Shakily, she touched the cock behind her with the tips of her fingers, brushing it and stroking it with her feathery touch. Her gentle ministrations quickly brought his cock erect, dirty thoughts of what he could do to her racing through Fernweh’s mind. Hammerbane’s hands slid along her arms, never breaking contact with her, never giving her a chance to recover her magical abilities, until they found her hips. Still mouthing “you cant do this to me,” he pulled her back onto his erect penis. Fernweh’s eyes widened and she gritted her teeth as he entered her, no longer gentle and caring like before, now rough and selfish. He pulled back on her hips, entering her roughly until he bottomed out. He held her there for a moment, eyes unblinking and staring at her prostrate position, the one he had loved so much forced into submission. Without warning, he pulled out until just his tip remained in her, at the same time pushing her away, her spine contracting, her face being pressed further into the muddy ground. Without her enchantments the dirt and grime stained her face, stuck to her hair, gritty bits of earth entering her mouth and nose. He then thrust back into her, burying his length in her and pulling her into him, her butt quivering as it impacted on his chest. 

	Fernweh moaned, arms bent around her head, toes quivering, pussy wet with arousal. She couldn’t believe she could enjoy this being forced into submission by the man she trusted. She loathed it, hated it, but Gregory Simnel, Lance Hammerbane, Dark Lord, was raping her, undoing their time together with ever thrust, the gentle nature she had brought forth from him replaced with this violent beast. And it excited her, aroused her; every time he thrust himself deep inside, every time one of his hands traveled up her body to violently squeeze a breast or pull on her hair it sent ripples of pleasure through her body. His thrusts increased in speed, in force, slamming into her with each thrust, hilting himself each time and then withdrawing, his powerful thrusts causing her tits to jiggle as they rubbed the ground, causing her face to roughly scrape the earth they were fucking on. He moaned, deep and animalistic, as he leaned in and started to press deeper, reaching the most sensitive, elusive parts of Fernweh’s vagina. She groaned in pleasure, tongue out and lolling on the dirty ground, eyes as unfocused as Hammerbane’s. She could feel her hips start to buck in time with his, totally involuntarily, not that she minded. It excited her, aroused her, turned on parts of her she didn’t know existed. She let out deep, inelegant grunts as he fucked her, a quivering hand slowly reaching down to her pussy to play with her clit. She fumbled with it, struggling for a moment before she pinched her sensitive button, causing her to cry out in ecstasy. Hammerbane accelerated again, fucking her with the wild abandon he had always held back, wildly fucking the nymph, his cock touching all her inner walls. 

	For the briefest of moments his hands let go of her butt, one reaching towards her head to grab her hair, maybe insert a finger in her mouth, the other seeking a breast. It was in that brief moment the power the iron had over Fernweh vanished, and clarity filled her mind again. Before he could react thick, ropelike vines sprouted from the earth, a pair reaching around his ankles and another set around his wrists. More erupted from the earth around the panting, prone nymph, securing his knees and elbows, his waist and a single one around his neck. Still panting from his rape of Fernweh, his cock still erect and leaking precum, he flexed his arms and struggled to break the vines. He felt that he could tear them if he tried hard enough, and was about to break free and resume plowing Fernweh when she started to move. Slowly and unsurely, she stood up, stabilizing herself with a shaky hand. Her body was sweaty and dirty, her hair hang loosely around her head and in front of her face, which was flush with red. Her crotch was red too, bruised from the violent rape. Slowly, she brushed the hair from her eyes and looked over at her bound lover, almost in tears. She panted for a moment before walking up to the warlord. Still panting, still shaking, still raw, she stepped over his crotch, straddling him but facing away, and lowered herself onto him. She sank all the way onto his cock, moaning lewdly as he filled her again. Her back snaked and wiggled as she gyrated on him, biting her lip and looking longingly over her shoulder at Hammerbane. Gone was his desire for escape, the thing he came for still bouncing on his member. Fernweh leaned back, resting her arms on his chest. She felt her toes curl, her vagina contract on his cock, and threw her head back, hair whipping back as she screamed. She came hard, no longer ashamed of the circumstance that brought her to it but loving every moment of it. She squeezed hard on Hammerbane’s penis, milking out his cum and the magic that came with it. No longer clouded by the hated iron, she could sense what had brought on his attack. Hammerbane loved her, that much she knew, but without her something had snapped within the warrior. He wanted to have her back, and the part of him he suppressed around her, the violent warrior, the Dark Lord, had taken hold, had come to conquer her and taker her as a trophy. She wanted to hate him for it, to leave him bound by the magic vines.

	But she couldn’t. She pitied him. He didn’t know what to do, so he resorted to the one thing he knew how to do. And the aggressive fuck wasn’t that bad at all. With his cock still buried inside, she leaned back, resting all her weight on him until she was next to his panting, growling head. 
“I forgive you, Gregory. I forgive you because I love you, and I know you love me, even if you don’t know how to express it right. But you have to let me go. You have to, Gregory, because I love you, and I won’t let you be consumed by this destructive want, the want that made you do this. I’m going to undo the vines Gregory, and I want you to let me leave.”
She stepped off of him to where the leaves lay in a pile and recollected them, shaping them back into clothes. She found her magic reserves still there, in fact a little greater from the recent sex. The enchantments returned, cleaning her body, making her pristine and perfect again. Slowly, the vines slid from Hammerbane’s limbs, leaving him flat on the ground. He struggled to his feet, holding his head in his hands.
“I’m sorry Fernweh, I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t imagine being without you. The very thought of it hurt, and when you were gone, well, I couldn’t think any more. I just acted.”
“Its ok Gregory, it’s ok. I forgive you, remember? Now please, let me go, let me leave. Remember, you’ll be in my heart forever, in your own special place. I’ll never forget this magical time we spent together, as long as you let me go.”
Tears in his eyes, Hammerbane stood up, and tenderly embraced Fernweh. He kissed the nape of her neck, slowly working his way up to her lips. He cupped her chin in his hand, just as soft and perfect as always. 
“You’ll be in my heart too, Fernweh, always. I think I’m ready now.”
And they kissed, this time briefly, but with as much passion as ever, and when they separated, they turned their backs to each other, each walking away thinking of nothing but the other.

--Epilogue--

	Hammerbane found the swamp easier to walk through after his time with Fernweh; the bogs less deep, the plants less thorny, the mud less sticky. He walked with his head down, armor carried in a simple sack made of the vines Fernweh had bound him with and the skin of a deer he had slain. Wherever he camped he would find wild berries, and no beast troubled him in his sleep. He was happy, in a strange way. He felt bettered from his time with the nymph, like a great weight was lifted off his shoulders. It was then that he heard the flapping of great wings and the screeching of what sounded like a great eagle.

	A trio of griffons burst through the canopy, armored in mithril and carrying three alabaster-clad warriors. Each one bore the imagery of a different paladin order, each one a great hero with legends told about him. They had come for him. The one in the lead removed his beaked helmet and peered down at the unarmored Hammerbane.
“Lance Hammerbane, your cowardly flight ends here. Prepare to answer for all your sins, and for my family’s life!”
“And the king’s honor!” joined in the one to his left.
“And prepare to face Imog for what you have done!” added the one to his right.
	
	Hammerbane dropped the sack containing his armor and dived to the right, narrowly avoiding the tip of a lance. He was unarmed and unarmored, and with those griffons he could scarcely hope to outrun them. He picked up a pair of rocks beside him and prepared to die. He lunged from behind the tree, screaming at the top of his lungs. One of the griffon riders notched an arrow and loosed it at him. It would have landed square in his torso, if it had not turned into a bouquet of lilacs. The archer stared at it in confusion, as the trees around him sprouted thorny vines and wrapped them around his limbs. The other griffon riders paused what they were doing and looked from Hammerbane to the bound griffon and it’s rider, before the trees near them did the same. They struggled to escape the constricting foliage, but soon Hammerbane had scaled a tree beside them and stood on one of the restrained beasts. Snarling, he drew the sheathed blade from one of the paladin’s sides, holding it and testing it’s weight. He caught his reflection in it’s polished edge, the same face he had always seen, but devoid of scars, bruises, blemishes and sin.

	The three paladins were left bound and unclothed, the thorned vines making excellent ropes. Gregory Simnel adjusted one of their suits of armor, turning one of the helmets over in his hands, unsure which one fit him best. The plates were mithil, and were no heavier then leather. Their mounts had been released and had flown off, but not before their armor and weapons had been removed. 
“I wager those vines won’t last too long, but that’s the least of your worries. The Lokus Liebe is filled with monsters, everyone knows that.” said Simnel. “Might not be long before one finds you, not to mention starvation, dehydration, disease or poison. And I hear a cold front’s moving in, shame you have no clothes.” He weighed the axe and sword he had pilfered. They were light and smooth, not to his liking, but they would do. Just the sort of weapons everyone expected an honorable knight to carry. “It’s easy  to get lost here too, trust me, I would know. But you’ll find I’m not unkind, I’ll leave you a map.” He tossed a rolled up scrap of cloth at the feet of one of the nude paladins, it’s surface dotted with charcoal. Simnel, clad in their stolen armor walked away towards what something told him was the edge of the swamp, where he thought he could hear a familiar playful giggle. When he made camp for the night he thought he caught a glimpse of something in the water, and when he inspected it, he saw Fernweh’s reflection, smiling and laughing, waving at him invitingly. Gregory smiled and waved back as her reflection faded away.

	Sir Wade managed to undo his binds, frowning as the thorns cut into his skin. After freeing Sir Mar of Diew and Sir Ipson, he inspected the map Hammerbane had left them. According to it, they were on Yea Other Blacke Hille.