So it turns out that, in a rather amusing bureaucratic oversight, the requirements for joining the Adventuring Guild (technically the "Guild of the Honourable Royal Militia of the Kingdom of Yerza", but nobody calls it that) do not mention species.

This is usually not a problem. After all, the Kingdom of Yerza is home to many kinds of non-human and near-human folk in the border marches, all decently civilized. Nobody raises an eyebrow at a party with a halfling scout, a human commander, and a dwarven hammerdwarf.

After all, there's Orcs, goblins, ancient insane sorcerers and all sorts of diferent flavours of nasty out there; turning someone away just because their ears are funny speaks of strange priorities.

Key word here being "usually".

With a loophole that big, someone was eventually gonna try to see what could be fit through it. And apparently, the answer to that question is... well, yourself. A giant desert lamia.

You should probably start from the beginning.

It all started with an elf.

Specifically, it started with Nessa. Nessa, you see, is an elven researcher from a big elven city whose name you cannot pronounce (you tried really, really hard and then just gave up). She is here because she wants to see if some complicated theory about magical laylines in the great desert are correct.

You privately suspect that she was sent here because she's the single most arrogant person you've ever seen. Addmittedly, you haven't actually seen many people (desert lamia, remember?) but someone who thinks they can boss around a snake several orders of magnitude more massive than themselves is gonna be holding on to that title for quite a while.

Anyways, Nessa was being chased around a Giant Scorpion, and you happened to be nearby, looking for lunch. Her problem, it turns out, solved yours.

Nessa, howerver, didn't see it that way. Again, giant desert lamia. You're kinda big, and your fangs don't really give you a disarming smile.

Actually, your smile tends to do things like make elf mages faint. Although you're sure that Nessa was already teetering around dehydration at that point, so who knows?

Since you're not the sort of person to leave people out for to the elements (your papa, gods rest his soul, would have your scales if you did) you took her to your home; a nice, clean cave that's cool during the hottest parts of the day, and where the very deepest parts collect enough moisture to have some water. Dawnwards, you have a smooth rock where you can sun in the morning.

It is most definitely NOT some "beast's lair", NESSA.

The elf waking up caused some drama. First, she tried to pretend to be asleep. Then she tried to bolt.

Ha. Yeah, no.

Once you made it clear that, no, Nessa wasn't going out there in that state, it took a bit to convice Nessa that you weren't keeping her around for a snack (your papa had some very clear rules about not eating things that talk) and then some more to convince her that, yes, you are trying to help her.

After all, that's what you DO. One day, it will be YOU out there, with no water and food, and the gods will see to it that the first person you find will treat you like you've treated your guests.

Eventually, Nessa calms down enough to actually accept your help. You give her some water, and the two of you get to talking. She tells you why she's here, complains about the lack of food (can't she hunt?) the fact that nobody wanted to come along with her and many, many other things.

So many things. Gods help you.

"And furthermore... this blasted wasteland... How can anything live in this place? The heat is just ghastly, the sun is blinding, and there's not a hint of shade to be found!" She whines, resting against your coils

You shrug. "I livve here," you point out. You're not really used to talking to anyone other than yourself and... well, speaking common was always hard, and you're rusty on top of that. Best to keep your replies short

Nessa scoffs. "You're made for this place," she shoots back.

Then she stops. Blinks. "You're made for this place." She repeats to herself, and a massive grin splits her face.

Her idea is as follows:

Nessa, in repayment for you saving her life, will be taking you on as a guide. You are briefly confused, since guiding the elf around the desert doesn't sound like being repaid, but she waves your concerns off, saying that she'd be paying you for doing so, in gold and silver.

You point out that you're a giant lamia, and the towns here are unlikely to be very happy to see a big, venomous snake lady on the horizon, let alone let her buy anything.

"Not unless you're an adventurer!"

"...Whhatt?"

That's when you learn that, since they're essential in hunting down the nasties menacing the marches, refusing service to an adventurer in good standing is illegal. And sure, they'll only be doing it begrudgingly at first, but the more you do, and the more that word of you spreads around, the more people will start to trust the big, venomous snake lady.

That's also when you learn of the loophole. Nessa has the whole rulebook for adventurers memorized (for some reason?), and she almost gleefully tells you that there's no rule in the book in saying that they can actually deny you membership.

You're of age, of sound body and mind, have someone vouching for you, are in good standing (since you've never gotten closer than crossbow range to a town) and more than strong enough to pass the physical examination.

"Spirits, I'd bet that you could crush a dragon with that tail of yours!"

Well, you've never seen a dragon, so maybe...?

You try to argue that this is a gods-damned stupid idea, but Nessa is insistent, and, you learn, likes to argue a little too much.

... And, maybe it's the way she says it, or maybe it's you.

But you want this stupid idea to work. Just a little.

It... it would be nice.

Which leads you to now. Looming in the middle of town, a grinning elf in your hands, and every single pair of eyes looking at you with varying degrees of terror.

You don't think that the people who built the building housing the local branch of the Guild had giant Lamia in mind. The receptionist lady currently trembling juuuuust inside the threshold of it certainly didn't expect you to be showing up to make her day interesting.

You lower yourself to the ground, lying down almost flat. You clear your throat and, making sure your smile doesn't have teeth, you say,