Snippet #1482073

Duran knew what was coming before the foul tempered orc even opened his mouth.

“Are you some kind of idiot?”

Duran rolled his eyes, as the orc went off on a rant about how incredibly incompetent he was before stomping away and returning with at least some of the supplies he requested. He was surprised he had got that much. Though he was a little disappointed he hadn’t gotten the armor he wanted, he wasn’t shocked. It was a little odd however. One would expect an army whose sole purpose was to eradicate the dragons and their cultist followers to at least have an extra suit of armor lying around. Hopefully the faith put into The Black Guard would be less stingy than the armory allotment.

“One ammunition pouch, iron slugs, 22 rounds.”

Duran winced and reluctantly added, “Can you make those stone? I’m afraid I can’t do much with metal.”

---

“Cockatrice.”

As if somebody was reading Sarish’s mind, another lamia brushed up against him. She was assigned to the Black Guard just like he was, but he had yet to see another lamia in the camp at all. He set up his characteristic smile, taking a slow bite out of the leg he held. An almost awkward silence permeated the table, until Iriana spoke.
"Sooo...I've been here for a while and you're the first of the Kindred besides myself I have laid eyes upon..."

Sarish took another bite, but before he could swallow, Iriana leaned over and set herself on the table. He fought the urge to look down, and stayed on her face like a gentleman.

"Would you like to...?"

Sarish was actually caught off guard for once. Usually he was the one who had to work on his target, not the other way around. Before he realized it, he was choking on the cockatrice leg, and immediately began coughing to clear his throat
.
“Are you alright?” asked Iriana.

Tears welled up in Sarish’s eyes as he barely regained his breath.

“I…” he coughed. “I was choking. I think I still am. I might need your help with some “mouth-to-mouth.”

He paused and smiled.

“In my tent.”

They stared at each other intently before making great haste to get out of the Mess Hall, unintentionally knocking over the table with their tails as they slithered away.

---

Duran nearly cringed at the verbal assault he was getting from the orc. He had had just about enough.

“You’re lucky to get that much, you tree-loving pixie-stroking oaken-headed- ” the orc seemed absolutely irate over the simple request of stone instead of metal, before Goma suddenly made her way into the Armory and cut him off. She growled loudly and bore her fangs.

The orc immediately stopped his rant, and disappeared for a moment before returning with a pouch of stone slugs to replace the iron ones and letting out a small growl of his own.

“You’ve got all I can spare. Now get out of here, and take that “thing” with you.” He said, pointing at Goma.

Duran smirked and took a moment to situate his gear, heading back outside to head towards the training area to get a handle on his new weaponry. Goma followed closely behind him, prancing about in the rain.

“We’re going to try something new today, Goma. I need to get a handle on my shape-shifting.”