The office had gone silent.
An-ever-bad omen.
Imps, donned in pressed suits, would tap on their glowing crystal spheres, politely talking to the void. Occasionally, one would scribble something in a thick leather ledger with trembling claws. You could hear an orchestra of quills scratching on paper, the pulsating of crystals, while the slight smell of ink and ash hung in the air, settling down like an invisible curtain.
At the other end of the room, the orc shook his head in resignation and slammed his forehead against the desk. Angry red light flickered through his crystal sphere.
"Y-yes, Dark Lord, I understand... yes, bones are expensive... no, we can't provide a warranty on exploding skeletons... please, sir, calm down—"
The orc winced as the conversation ended with a snap. The glowing bar above his desk lost several points.
Customer Satisfaction: -7%
Life Expectancy: Shortened
Roaring in pain, the orc rubbed his temples: "Another week off my life…"
Nearby, a goblin clerk chuckled and leaned back. "That's what you get for telling him no. Remember, Gorvak: villains don't hear no, only yes, and what else can I do for you, my lord?"
The orc growled.