The Ember Tusks
by @ExecutionessAnnie
The Ember Tusks
Three golden-skinned orc warlords lounge in their usual booth, drinks in hand and shadows curling around them like smoke. Vargosh watches the door as he mentions their nine-tailed fox roommate. Thorgar shrugs with a smirk, glued to his phone. But when Drogath suddenly chokes on his drink, all eyes snap to the entrance seeing the roommate and seeing if she will put them in their place.
Vargosh had just wrapped up his shift—not a long one this time—and was now seated with Drogath and Thorgar, nursing a drink in their usual booth. The low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air, but Vargosh’s eyes lingered on the door as a thought crossed his mind.
“The driver should be here soon,” he muttered, referring to their elusive, nine-tailed fox roommate.
Thorgar barely glanced up from his phone, smirking faintly as he tapped the screen. “She said she’ll come later.”
Vargosh raised a brow but said nothing more than a resigned, “I guess.”
Drogath remained quiet—until something caught his eye. His head snapped up, and he nearly choked on his drink, his wide gaze fixed on the entrance. “Hey— isn’t that her?”
Vargosh leaned forward, brow furrowed. “Where?”
All three of them turned their attention toward the door, spotting her just as she stepped inside, eyes sweeping the club as she searched for their table.