The Deal

Midday in Kalimdor was always hot; At least in the experience of many of the inhabitants. The city of Orgrimmar, which was undergoing refurbishing was continuing to proceed as normal as this heat hadn't hindered any of the workers who were used to such weather. Orcs and trolls and tauren worked on buildings and walls, replacing the weathered wood with tempered metal. Goblins were yelling orders are the builders, holding designs in front of them. Often the workers would yell back down to make a snappy comment but continued as planned.

The middle of the city housed the new Grommash Hold; build in dedication to the new leader's father, Grommash Hellscream. The prodigal son, a tan orc by the name of Garrosh Hellscream, had taken it upon himself to oversee the construction, making sure everything was sturdy and sabotage proof. For such a strong man, he was rather paranoid, but didn't allow himself to show it.

Tonight, the Hold was empty. Accompanied by a squad of his honor guards, Garrosh made his way up the ramps to the bluff that held the Hall of Legends - a place where people could trade emblems of their Alliance enemies for goods and equipment. As Garrosh entered the room, his voice boomed over the entirety of the small room.

"I'm here. Relocate. NOW." Without objection, the collectors and vendors hurried out of the room and to the outside. In the center of this room there was a large table with three seats, all of which were empty - except for one. In that one sat a short, fat green creature, a cigar in between the pudgy fingers of one hand and a top-hat on his head, clothed in a suit. His back was to the room and he looked up from his top-hat towards the orc.

"It is a good to see you again, Garrosh my boy!" The goblin brought the cigar up to his lips, breathed in the smoke and blew smoke rings from his mouth as he removed the cigar from his lips. "It's good that we can talk business again. The negotiator should be along momentarily. Would you like something to drink?" Set on the table were a couple of large goblets and a few small kegs of ale, which the goblin waved his hands over.

"Gallywix..." Garrosh spoke the name with a harsh tone, moving to sit himself down in the set opposite of the table with his back to the room. "The sooner we get this business taken care of, the sooner you and I can go back to doing our jobs. If your man is late, then I will be very angry." Garrosh, though reluctantly, took one of the goblets and grabbed the keg, popping off the cork and beginning to pour the ale into his cup before downing all of it in one swig. He refilled quickly, but didn't take a drink just yet.

"Don't worry, my friend. He will be here." As the keg was rested back down, Gallywix snapped his fingers and a smaller green head popped up from the edge of the table. A pair of hands followed, then the small body of an entire goblin jumped up, took the keg as it was set back down, filled up the other goblet and offered it to Gallywix, who took it in his free hand and drank slowly.

As they waited, they exchanged words of previous business they had had between the two of them - labor contracts, the discovery of Azsharite in Azshara and how it would benefit the Horde and their pushing back the Night Elves in that area. Several minutes passed, then several more.

"I'm tired of waiting! Where is he? I will go and drag him here myself!" True to his word, Garrosh was enraged at the tardiness.

"I'm here." A voice of moderate depth spoke just beyond the doorway before the body it had belonged to stepped in. His eyes were yellow, his skin was green, his hair was blue and he wore a suit of black and maroon. He had on a pair of standard-looking goggles - silver frames with blue lenses. In one hand, he held a briefcase. His hidden eyes jerked to Gallywix immediately, then to Garrosh.

"You're late, Pykk!" Gallywix seemed quite enraged as he brought his cigar hand to his face, only to find that his cigar had reached the end and gone out. His face turned red and he looked ready to unleash a tantrum against the late negotiator before his servant quickly lit another cigar and offered it to his large master, calming him down as he took a couple of puffs.

"I know, Gallywix. I see you gained some weight since I beat you down." Pykk, the new arrival, grinned a toothy grin at that, showing that one of his canines was golden.

"Depressed about something?" This caused Garrosh to laugh brutally, despite the possible agitation of his patron.

"You only won because you had that mongrel Thrall there!"

"Regardless, you still lost. Sore loser." Without saying anything else towards the even redder Trade Prince, the skinnier goblin stepped over to Garrosh and offered his lengthy fingered-hand to shake. The orc quickly took it, shaking it firmly as he continued to laugh. "Pykk Steelcog. Warchief Hellscream, I presume. It's a pleasure to be able to shake your strong hand. Shed much blood lately?"

"Unfortunately, no. Political and war matters keep me confined in the city most of the time." The orc gave a big grin. "But, just last week I beat down a large group of Alliance scum that came to kill me in my very own keep."

"Well, they were obviously very weak and very stupid. I don't even see a scar on you." They parted hands and Pykk moved to the head of the table, flopped his briefcase down on the table, and slid two pieces of paper towards the two of them, each one almost completely identical. Garrosh picked up his and took a drink from his goblet while Gallywix's servant grabbed the paper and held it up to his master to read. Gallywix was the first to speak.

"Pykk," the Trade Prince started but paused to take in some more of his cigar, letting out more rings. "I noticed that you neglected to mention the fact that I specifically asked for ALL of Azshara."

"You cannot have it, Gallywix." Garrosh answered before Pykk could, not taking his eyes from the paper. "I gave you and allotment. That is all you're getting and that is final."

"Garrosh, I insist!"

"NO. You do not deserve it. While you provide good labor and cannon-fodder, you're a new member to the Horde. As new member to the Council. I'm not going to give you anything more just yet." Once more, the Trade Prince turned red and continued to read.

About an hour more of reviewing and bickering went back and forth between the two, before they finally agreed to the final draft of this contract. Not a single change was made, to the great displeasure of Gallywix and the minor irritation of Garrosh.

"FINE. Where do we sign?" Gallywix, having obviously lost these negotiations, tossed the paper back to Pykk, followed by Garrosh. After he had both papers, the negotiator pulled out a third paper, beckoning the two over. He held two pens in his hands, which he handed to each party, signaling where to sign. Gallywix's fat fingers didn't allow him the elegance of a grand signature he had wished he could make, and Garrosh's dignity didn't allow him to sign anything except in his own blood. After all the formalities had passed, Pykk took a third pen and signed his name last, under Garrosh, putting on a single, capital "P".

"It was a pleasure doing business with the two of you." Pykk shook Garrosh's hand first, and then Gallywix's, then put everything back in order, closed his case, and began to walk out before the two as they talked. The small goblin flashed another toothy grin as he passed the last of the honor guard and walked his way into the slums, towards the bankers to stash away the documents, and then going back out of the city through the northern gate.