OOC: That's very nice writing Slaveless.
Very poetic.
IC(Querig): Nine o' clock. Nine o' clock in the evening. The clock ticked as it's numbers turned into '9:00.' The room had a smokey miasma being produced by the lit cigars. Furniture was placed in an organized fashion about the room: a few small, red couches and some potted flora in the corners, wilting. A window was open, the hundreds of voices from the street below were channeling through. Eight beings were present: five glukkons and three sligs. One glukkon, dressed in yellow, had an impacient look on his face while another, dressed in red, had a wrathful look, like paramite waiting to pounce. A Mudokon slave was at his side holding a fan, furious at work. The remaining two glukkons simply had a look of pure sloth as their bodies, dressed in blue, swayed from side to side with boredom. But there was one glukkon sitting on a couch with an easy going, care free look.
"So what's the status, Querig?" the impacient looking glukkon said to the glukkon on the couch.
A long silence followed but was then broken by Querig's laughter.
"Smoke!" the impacient looking glukkon shouted. The three sligs jumped with surprise. One of them rushed over to Querig armed with a cigar and a lighter. he placed the cigar and his mouth and lit it. Querig inhaled and then gave a long sigh of smoke.
"Things are fine!" said Querig, "The transaction between Smokey's Stoggies and Glukkons Global went smoothly. The Oddfather will have his moolah in about a week."
"You know," said the wrathful glukkon, "We had to kill all communications between us and your people. How did you find out so quickly?"
"My accountant keeps his ears open."
"You are a good man, Querig!" said the glukkon dressed in yellow, no longer looking impacient.
A slig presented a bag full of moolah to Querig on the table. Querig's vallet retrieved it shortly after it was placed there.Querig let out another long laugh.
"There's one more thing," said Querig.
The glukkon dressed in red had a puzzled look and said, "What other thing?"
"You know!"
"Smokes!"
One of the sligs rushed foward presenting Querig with a box of Hazy Skurvy Brand Cigars, a classic vintage brand. Querig's face glowed with glee as his vallet collected the box.
"Well, I think business is done here, gentlegluks," said Querig as he gave a smug smile and walked towards the exit.
Just then, before anyone could notice, a high scream filled the room. The Mudokon with the fan lashed foward at Querig, armed with a sharp looking knife. Querig looked behind him and the luster of the knife shined in his eyes. The cigar fell out of his mouth. He felt like his body had turned to ice. Then several gunshots were heard and blood splattered everywhere as the Mudokon fell to the floor. The blade flew from his hand and stuck to the wall.
"WHAT THE HELL?" shouted the glukkon in red.
"Are you okay, ser?" said one of the sligs.
"MY SUIT! IT'S WET WITH SLAVE BLOOD!"
"What's to complain about?" said Querig. "It matches the color."
The glukkon in red was steaming with fury, but before he could reply the glukkon in yellow shouted, "SEARCH THE PERIMETER YOU IDIOTS! THERE COULD BE MORE OF THEM!"
The pants of two of the sligs were buzzing with mechanical sounds as they rushed out of the room.
Querig gave another smug grin and said to his vallet, "Come on."
The two left the room but before Querig stepped through the door, he took a final look at the blade. He looked closely and noticed a symbol of some kind. It looked similar to the symbol of the Magog Cartel, only fashoined to resemble a sun. He contemplated this symbol once more before remembering his duties and departed from the blood splattered room.