Storytime

The orc falls,
falls,
falls,
suddenly comes to a stop. His shouting comes to a stop as the wind is quite rapidly knocked from his lungs. For a few moments, the orc dangles in the dragon's paws, dazed.
Then he manages to draw a breath and looks around himself to see why he's still alive and not a little smear of blood on the ground. After all, he'd resigned himself to that fate all of forty-five seconds ago. The sudden change was rather... jarring.

"What?" he says. He looks around. He notes that he's being carried by something. Curious. His gaze follows the paws carrying him to the beast they belong to.
Oh. It was a dragon. A dragon made of metal. That was quite unusual. The orc had never seen a dragon like that before - and he was quite experienced with dragons.

So experienced, that is, that the orc very nearly swings his axe at the dragon's face. The only thing that stops him is the sudden realization that his axe is no longer in his hand. He looks down just in time to see the weapon falling down to the ground.

Leaning back, the orc sighs. Dragons. Why did it have to be dragons.

"So, then," the orc says to the dragon in a deep, gruff voice. "Are you going to eat me now or are you going to set me down?"