Hagen, the Half-troll Barbarian

“Oh my, what have we here?” Ira mused as she glanced at the newcomer, joining her spell-caster sister in sporting a saucy smile on her lips.

The stranger was definitely a he, his bulgingly muscular build telling the sisters that much, and of such length that he had stepped into the room to avoid having to bend down, since he would otherwise have his vision blocked by the upper doorframe.

Standing fifteen feet from the bed where Ira and Mira were laying, Mira’s head held just inches above her sister’s lap, so that locks of her brown hair were draped over Ira’s soaked cunt and glistening thighs, the stranger was quite apparently a half-breed, Ira’s guess was that he must be one half human and one half troll.

Half-trolls were a heterogeneous group, Ira had discovered from her interactions with a few of them, not the least physically. Some of them were more human than others, whereas some were decidedly more troll than others.

The specimen standing in front of her and her sibling looked as if he belonged in the middle of that slide; human enough in his physique, probably having had a mother beautiful enough to block out the least charming characteristics of the trolls’ facial features, rendering him almost handsome in a way, though his trollish ancestry made him much taller and more bulky than any but the most brawny of human males, and with a complexion that was on the browner side of olive green, which implied that his mother had been black as well as attractive.

His dark, greenish skin was also covered by scars, one of them stood out in particular as it stretched itself to almost form a circle on his chest, though Ira couldn’t determine if it was a ritual scaring or one received in combat, while his hair was charcoal black, though it too had a green tone, one subtle enough to barely be noticeable in a few strands here and there.

For clothing, the man wore sturdy leather boots which covered most of his thick shins, a leather strap running over his otherwise naked chest, with an large axe and a satchel attached to the strap, and the traditional, several inches wide leather belt of the southern barbarians, from which two long, broad pieces of brown-coloured cloth hung down, one to cover his ass-crack and the other to cover his cock and balls.

The front of his barbarian loincloth was pulled aside however, by the emergence of his cock, which to Ira looked copious enough in both girth and length to make most of her latest male partners blush and go soft with envy in comparison to this one-eyed beast that protruded out so that while the man himself was fifteen feet from her, his cockhead was only fourteen.

The aroused state of his prick told Ira that the man surely hadn’t just walked through the door, but he had been standing there for a while.
The man remained silent for a few more seconds, seemingly flustered from having both of the voluptuous, sluttish women in the bed glancing at him with apparent lust, as though he was just what they had been waiting for.

“I’m Hagen,” the half-troll finally said, “Salavas told me that you were hiring.”
Salavas was an old associate of the sisters’, a man who ran a wide array of rackets in town, as well as having a heart big enough to get himself to trouble for some misfortunate every now and then.

“We are…” Mira said, with a husky tone, and got out of bed.

Not wishing to be bested by both of her sisters when it came to men this day, Ira quickly rose out of bed as well, still feeling as though she was close to climaxing.
Both of them hoped and thought that this man would prove a lot more skilled and durable than that puppy Seval.