<div class="floatright">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/8d/bb/98/8dbb98897225265531cb39cc33c9683b.jpg)</div>With a thud that leaves a mark in the poor, abused wood of the front desk (this certainly isn't the first time she's thumped the hammer down), Burissest begins to come out from around it to face Nuria more closely.  Pulled up nearly face to face and without a big table between, her outfit becomes more obvious, the tabard doing little to cover an absolutely enormous hanging cock, the hefty bulbous red tip of it down below the end of the material.  Her lips pull back in an equally snarling sort of way, her shoulders tensed and pulled forward, her steps stalking.<br/><br/>"Last Andra came in here left being pulled out by healers," she responds, glaring down at Nuria, matching her eyes as her ears flick at the change of temperature.  One thing for this Burissest, she isn't backing down, her fists hardened into hard rocks and looking ready to swing.  Judging by the look of her knuckles, it wouldn't be the first time.<br/><br/>She turns now to Phelypsis, attempting to draw herself up even taller as she does so.  "I should say she can't hurt me," she responds in the same sort of bravado as the barbarian, perhaps showing that this is more under control than it seems.  A glance is given to the broken armor and shackles before she lets out a grunt of disapproval, "Trash, both of them. I can make them into a proper bit and bridle for riding you later."<br/><br/>She listens to the description of Phelypsis's might and pulls up closer to her, the front of her tabard now raised significantly by her hardened erection.  It has become wildly clear that this posturing is an intentional thing, as her own smile has appeared, a smirking grin that just shines with delight.  She may not wish to return to the homelands, but having a taste of it here seems to be doing it well.  "Take you I will!  For I am Burissest Hammer Of The North of Heaford, strongest of smiths, creator of Damaneetian Steel.  I earned freedom from my tribe by fighting the three strongest men of us, when they came to my tent as I slept to make me slave.  One survived, but can no longer walk."<br/><br/>Burissest gives Phelypsis a good, long once over.  "I do not miss the tribe, but this is good for the soul.  These humans do not know how to greet someone."  She turns to Nuria and claps a hand on her shoulder, holding it there for only a moment before the woman's body-heat is too much for her and she has to pull it away quickly.  "I do not mean dishonor to you or your friend.  It would dishonor you both to treat you with feathers and pillows."  An amused grin comes to her face and she adds, "Speaking of pillows, it will be wrestling, Phelypsis of the Delvers."  She pokes Phelypsis in the stomach and turns to walk into the back room, leading to a space in the center of the forge, among all of the implements and flames, that has been marked off in a circle.  Without any hesitation, she removes her tabard and her hand-wraps wearing only long stockings and showing her muscled body and firm backside.  Placed on the opposite side of the circle, she begins to take up some grease or oil there, preparing herself to wrestle.