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The Orphaner Dualscar flicked a dot of jade blood off his shoulder. It was a good thing his outfit was hydrophobic, he thought. He might just kill another land dweller if he had to pay to have it professionally cleaned.
As he strode down the wide corridor towards the audience chamber of the Grand Highblood, his face displayed an expression that on any other troll might have resembled a smile. Mindfang would be furious when she found the body of her beloved slave. She would regret mocking him. Too late, of course. He would enjoy watching her stand before the Imperial Court.
Distant honks and raucous laughter echoed down the corridor. He hoped the indigoblood who had gone ahead to announce his presence had at least gotten her job done before going back to whatever it was subjugglators did in their free time. You never knew with indigos. They were, in his opinion, one of the more aggravating land dweller classes. At least everyone from the greens down knew their place. Still, the subjugglators were notoriously violent. He revelled in the idea of Mindfang's downfall at their hands.
He reached the massive door to the audience chamber and swung it open. A rasping voice greeted him.
"Orphaner."
The first thing that struck him was the Highblood's size. Even sitting down he was huge, and his presence seemed to stretch out and fill the spacious room, making it feel confining. His so-called chucklevoodoos, perhaps?
The second thing that struck him was the stench. Dualscar tried not to visibly recoil at the overwhelming smell of rotting gore, much worse than the stink of gutted lusus he encountered regularly in his line of work. Blood of a variety of colors coated the walls, painted in crude patterns.
He pinned his fins back, the closest thing to a bow this land dweller was going to get. "Highblood."
"WHAT BUSINESS HAVE YOU ALL UP AND BROUGHT ME?" The Grand Highblood's voice boomed and reverberated off the high ceilings.
"I bring information on the Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, gamblignant and scourge to the Empire," Dualscar said. "My intelligence includes descriptions of her ship, her travwelling patterns, all of her attacks on imperial ships in the last svweep, and a possible plan of attack against her." He stepped closer to offer a thick stack of papers, which the Grand Highblood reached down to grip with a huge, gnarled hand.
“This is all a’ the information I’wve gathered on the Marquise and her fleet,” Dualscar said. He passed the Grand Highblood a heavy pouch that jingled as it left his hand. “And this is my personal contribution to the bounty. Consider it a showv of good faith.”
“That’s the only type of faith there is, ain’t it?”
Dualscar wavered, unsure of what answer the Highblood wanted. “Of course.”
The Grand Highblood grinned, and Dualscar wasn’t sure whether that meant that he had answered correctly or not. He took a half-step backwards.
The Grand Highblood barely glanced at the papers. “WE’LL FIND THE BITCH.”
“I appreciate your cooperation.” Thanking the Highblood for fulfilling his duties to the empire felt wrong, but Dualscar was feeling an unfortunate need to ingratiate himself to the land dweller. He started to turn away, then hesitated, unsure whether he was supposed to leave yet.
"Consider yourself motherfuckin' dismissed, then."
Dualscar held back a sigh of relief as he turned to leave.
"WAIT. ONE MORE THING."
He turned back, lips pulled back in a snarl. "VWhat?"
The Grand Highblood paused just long enough for Dualscar to begin to wonder if he had forgotten he was there. "Tell me a joke."
"A joke," Dualscar repeated in disbelief.
"YOU HEARD ME. LET'S BRING SOME MOTHERFUCKIN' MIRTH INTO THIS MEETING."
Dualscar tried to think back to the last joke he had heard. He must have heard some bawdy sailor jokes at some point, but all traces of humor escaped his mind.
"What are you waiting for?" asked the Grand Highblood. His voice was low and dangerous. His arm dangled purposefully near the handle of a giant juggling club studded with troll horns and stained with old and new blood. Dualscar thought he saw a bit of violet on it.
"Um," he said. A joke... Oh, he knew one. His mind went back to a memory of Her Imperious Condescension telling a joke. Everyone in the room had laughed. He cleared his throat to repeat it.
"SPEAK UP, MOTHERFUCKER."
"Right. VWell. VWhat's the difference betvween, uh, a piano, a tuna fish, and a pot of glue?"
The Grand Highblood scratched his head with a massive hand. "I dunno. What is it?"
"You." Dualscar rubbed at his arm. "You can tune a piano, but. But you can't piano a tuna."
There was a moment of awful silence.
"What about the glue?" the Grand Highblood asked, his hand resting on the club's handle now.
Dualscar attempted a smile as the Highblood's grasp tightened around the club. "I knewv you'd get stuck on that!"
The next thing out of his mouth was a series of screams, followed by silence.