Startup 26: Advertising

Arodus 12, noon

“Oh sure, maybe you don’t have what it takes to keep him, but the things this man can do will curl your toes.” Sandara shouted at the crowd, gesturing at me, “A vision of beauty blessed by Shelyn herself, he is, and a sorcerer of impressive power.”

I stood tall, gazing out at the crowd with half-lidded eyes and the shadow of a smile. I clasped my hands behind my back, activating my Boots of Authority to make myself look more impressive. Sandara had insisted that the ladies of Port Peril would prefer commanding over demure, and I of course yielded to her wisdom. (Intimidate 12+12+5+2=31)

The women in the tavern, as well as a few unfortunate men, whispered amongst themselves. More than one checked the fliers that we’d paid to post on the wall.

This was the fourth tavern we’d visited that day. We weren’t there during peak hours, but the low class joints near the docks always had a few off-duty sailors day drinking. Of course, there were two men to every woman and maybe a third of the single ladies that checked the flier would be interested in running a train on me, but we needed every person we could find.

Livdana will bring in the connoisseurs who pay the big bucks, we bring in horny day laborers. This will be substantially less fun than it initially sounded.

I don’t have absurdly high standards, but my party were distinctly in the minority when it came to pirate women. For every adventurous bonnie lass looking for a unique experience, I was sure to attract two or three women who just didn’t want to pay for a prostitute and had trouble attracting one night stands.

Of course, I’m not doing this for the sex. If I don’t get something really damn good out of this I’ll be so pissed. I mean sure, it’s a sex based perk, but the other ones have been broadly useful. By the gods, if whatever is in charge of this just removes my refractory period and considers that an adequate perk I will absolutely kill someone.

I did my best to appear to be an enticing cut of meat for the ladies, letting autopilot do his best to smoulder seductively. I was really more of a brazen proposition type of guy, but that was more of a one-on-one kind of thing.

“Hopefully this will at least help me get my name out.” I said quietly to Sandara, “Maybe help with recruitment?”

“You poor fool.” She said, clapping me on the shoulder and not lowering her volume at all. “Some of the men already spilled the beans from yesterday. No one wants to sign up with a man as deep in debt as you are. Maybe if you were charging a bit more, it might come with some prestige, but this reeks of you trying to make some quick cash.”

“What?” I said, affronted. “I wouldn’t sell cheap to many if I were trying to make a quick buck. I’d probably do an auction, aim it at some rich girls who want to sleep with a dashing pirate. More cash, less work.”

“Anyone who puts that much thought into it will just assume you’re a fool.” Sandara said with a shrug. “Absolutely no one will guess that this is part of an elaborate ritual of ascension. If I didn’t know you, I’d assume you were just trying to piss off your wife.”

“Don’t remind me.” I sighed. “I’m hoping she is handled for now.”

•••••••••••

Lady Nendra D’Lann drank tea and discussed the latest novel to have reached the Shackles. This one was about an Andoran woman with absolutely no control over her man. Apparently he was donning a mask and traveling to Galt, freeing political prisoners under an assumed name. It took far too long for the insipid girl to figure that out; her limp wristed inquiries mostly drew out blatant lies. The man pretended to be nothing but a useless fop, of course.

“It’s so romantic, in a way.” Zeru Faizel gushed, “Discovering a whole new side to someone you thought you knew! He’s lying of course, but it’s to protect her!”

The heir apparent to the Viridian Cartel sighed and pressed the book against her chest. She spoke from ignorance, of course. Most of the girls in this book club did, on most topics, despite their high stations and frequently pleasant company. It was not at all romantic to be lied to; it was infuriating. A man was supposed to be an asset and a tool. Some exceptional ones like her father and brother might even merit the title of assistant.

Try to mend bridges? Pepper you idiot. He owes me better than this, and you want me to go to him like some kind of servant begging forgiveness? He went decades, perhaps, pretending to be a simpering idiot, and you think me to be at fault? Shocking that someone as skilled as you can also be such a stupid whore.

Nendra nearly broke a nail, digging them deep into the leather cover of her book as the rage built inside her. She steadied herself; these women as a whole would want far too much information if she were to share her woes. Gossiping harpies, the lot of them, which was delightful so long as Nendra could avoid being the subject of inquiry.

They knew, obviously. Emrys had been making quite a spectacle of himself, but if Nendra did not broach the subject, then it didn’t happen. Nobody ever acknowledged Sinkitah’s husband, for example. Not when he’d been disciplined for drunkenness in public, not when he’d chosen to sleep with that Kyonin harlot, and not when he’d been found mysteriously dead. It was impolite to voice the obvious, which was one of the reasons Nendra liked these girls.

Of course, individual discussions were another thing entirely. She had already asked Sinkitah to meet with her for tea in private. Nendra was forbidden from acting against Emrys too directly, since mother had decided it was appropriate to play games with Nendra’s property, but she could save time by hiring mercenaries in advance.

As the book club adjourned, Nendra and Sinkitah hooked arms and left together. Nendra paused, taken aback, when she saw something quite out of the ordinary. A drow she did not know.

She was tall, with black hair that fell in waves, brushing her shoulders. Her eyes were piercing gold, reflecting the light like a predator. They matched her jewelry, including a pair of golden earrings. She wore a simple black dress, cut to expose her well muscled arms. She stood with poise, clearly waiting for something. As she locked eyes with Nendra, it became clear who she was waiting for.

“Lady D’Lann.” She said, “My name is Aura Mox’za. I understand that you have already established a safe place for Drow in the Shackles? I would like to negotiate on behalf of House Mox’za.”

https://postimg.cc/DmPMMf3S

••••••••••

“You honestly expect me to sign an unbreakable contract that I can’t read?” I said, deadpan, folding my arms.

Dovnu smiled.

“Well I told you that it was an infernal contract.” She said, “What language were you expecting?”

“I was expecting you to allow my team into the room.” I growled. “I’m willing to work with you, but I expect you to take this seriously. I told you I wanted to read the contract, have someone look over it for me, and make any necessary amendments. I don’t particularly want to cash in my only chip, but I’m only making this deal if I know it’s a better idea than trying to fight to the ****.”

The third person in the room, a woman wrapped in leather with a faceless mask, turned her head towards me. Her voice was a dull, emotionless drone that reminded me of voice modulators from back home.

I guess a cleric of Asmodeus isn’t very popular in a city that values freedom. They probably have some public persona to protect.

“I am familiar with the context of your prior meeting.” She said, “Your allies are no longer present. Miss D’Lann is a discrete recurring customer. Your chances of survival are minimal.”

And my chances of charming this chick are just as low. Yeah, I’m dead if they want me dead.

We were sitting in a small, lightless underground chamber. If Dovnu wanted me dead, this would be an incredible time to do it. Of course, I trusted her to be looking out for her own self interest. I’d offered her something a hell of a lot more valuable than a dead son in law, and something just as nice as a consolation prize.

“Dovnu made it abundantly clear that she thought she could take me then.” I answered the cleric. “The stakes have changed indeed. I don’t know what that contract says, so I don’t know if I’d be signing over my soul to hell.”

“I have already verbally outlined the terms of the contract. We would be required to disclose that information, per Infernal law.” The cleric said, her shoulders stiff. “Any Hellbound soul is given the opportunity to argue their case; such a flagrant breach of contract would be redirected to a more appropriate afterlife immediately.”

“Forgive me for not being reassured by case law that I don’t get to benefit from until I’m already dead.” I drawled, “No deal until I can get my advisors in here. I don’t expect to win, so I won’t throw the first punch. I’m requesting the most basic of accommodations outlined by the Church of Asmodeus. I’ve brushed up on Infernal law just enough to drag this out in appeal if you don’t provide basic accommodations, and if you kill me, you are kicking a wasp nest.”

I’m pretty sure the only devils I could summon are gambling devils and imps, who wouldn’t be great for lawfare, but she doesn’t know that.

I turned to Dovnu and smiled.

“I’m not impressed, and I have little to lose.” I said sweetly, “So stop reiterating that you have power and remember that my life has value to you.”

Dovnu snorted at that.

“Fine, I don’t have all day.” She said, rolling her eyes, then raised her voice, “Let her in.”

Varossa was all smiles as she swaggered in, candle in hand. She casually pushed away the guard trying to relieve her of her blade, focusing on Dovnu the whole time.

“Per the Gospel of Mammon, verse thirty three, no item of true value may be stripped of an individual without cause or consent.” She rattled off, “Given the casual threats being tossed around and the monetary value of enchantments, I would consider my blade to be of true value. You may of course dispute this interpretation under the Commands of Asmodeus section 4, verse ninety seven, but for that we will need to bring in a contract devil to adjudicate. I’ll wait.”

I hadn’t had all that many options; Sosima had briefed me on the basics of Infernal law, taught to every upstanding young lady in Cheliax. Only Infernal was considered a precise enough language for contracts, containing an unreasonably large number of words that all had extremely specific meanings. Linguistic drift meant that the version spoken by mortals had quite a lot of slang mixed in, which contract devils sometimes took advantage of, but it was still a language overseen by an extraplanar legion of grammar nazis.

I’d have really liked to have Sandara here. She notices things. Unfortunately I’m pretty sure she’d find it physically painful to say hello in infernal, never mind reading a contract. I’d trust Sosima more, but she’s busy.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss D’Lann.” Varossa said, keeping the door open. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Dovnu gestured at the table, returning the smile.

“Go ahead. Start reading.” She said with a sigh, “I was hoping we could keep things quick.”

“Oh? I have an abundance of free time actually.” Varossa said, “the captain I hired was dragged into some unnecessary legal disputes, you see. Speaking of, he is also entitled to a spiritual advisor.”

“He is non-religious.” Dovnu said, becoming irritated. “Being affiliated with a religious individual is not sufficient connection under Infernal law for you to bring in the cleric girl.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Varossa answered, her toothy smile growing. “But by Chelish law, broadly accepted as precedent for intramortal affairs, religious is defined as having at least one formal or informal covenant with a being classified as a deity, demigod, or quasideity. Captain M’Dair has made such an arrangement.”

“With who?” The cleric asked in her dull monotone.

“An entity known as Cave Mother, who has already consented to assist personally using one of her many proxies.” Varossa said, “her attendant will need to bring her in, of course.”

“Very well.” The cleric said, “Did you have any more demands?”

“Not yet.” Varossa said, her smile catlike, “There is quite a lot of negotiation left to do.”

Aaron hauled Cave Mother in and deposited her on the table overlooking the papers, and sat silently next to the stack of papers for several seconds. The first words to emanate from her set the tone for the rest of the meeting.

“‘I lu” is far too ambiguous a formulation for Dovnu’s loss state.” She snapped, “Use ‘a gar,” and specify that she may not sell him to anyone until the contract is complete.”

The two pored over the contract, ensuring that the deal was exactly as I intended. The cleric’s shoulders grew tense as she was obliged to bring out sheet after sheet of enchanted vellum. Varossa’s suggestions almost invariably involved removing ambiguity through elaboration, massively inflating the word count. I wasn’t privy to much of the conversation past the first few minutes, as all four women started to slip into infernal and didn’t bother translating for me.

Ivey stood next to me, providing a running translation of the conversation. His infernal was about as proficient as my highschool Spanish, but he did his best.

“I think they are talking about the ritual?” He said, “Something about a detailed description of it being in the contract.”

“They probably don’t want me to be **** into just any ritual Dovnu can come up with.” I guessed, “I’m willing to sell off my magic for freedom in a pinch, but who knows what she might come up with?”

I sat with an artfully neutral expression, occasionally catching Dovnu’s eye with a smug smile. It wasn’t much, but anything that rattled her for even a moment might give Varossa and Cave Mother an opportunity to exploit.

Five hours and ninety gold worth of vellum later, Cave Mother dictated a translation to Aaron. That took nearly twice as many pages of mundane paper to write due to the imprecision of the Common tongue, but was declared an adequate overview by Varossa. Naturally, Varossa also wanted a nonmagical copy in Infernal runes, which ate up another half hour.

“I think I may have won this round, Dovnu.” I said, feeling cocky.

“Oh?” She said, raising an eyebrow, “If you accomplished so much here, I look forward to seeing what new holes you added. Even with those two, I’d say this was a stalemate. Nothing more.”

••••••••••

My silver tongue can only go so far, when it comes to sales. The kobolds at Aashaq’s Hoard were willing to buy all my halberds for 100 each, but it was a close call. It seemed unlikely that I would get much more out of them. After all the money I’d spent on maintenance, paying the crew, supplies, and enchanting, I had a solid 2800 gp to my name.

Keeping in mind that I might not get another chance to settle my account with a certain magic cat, I tithed 100 to the shrine of Shelyn on the way home. That earned a strange look from the elderly priestess on duty; presumably most people don’t drop more than a normal laborer’s yearly wages in the donation box before leaving. Then again, maybe she recognized me as the man planning a giant marathon fuckfest down the hall in a few days. I didn’t stop to chat; I had a lot on my mind.

My dinner date with Yael was planned that evening, so when I returned to the ship I started summoning. While the tiny rift to the Netherworld pulled her essence into the Prime Material Plane, I had a little bit of time to think.

All I need to do is multiply my assets by 11 and I’ll be fine. Should be doable.

I was still new to being a pirate, and I made some serious mistakes to get into this position. There was, however, a reason that I had agreed to a deal like this. I wasn’t green when it came to money. I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I’d already paid off my student loans by the time I graduated. In retrospect that was a dumb idea, since I’d used up all my starting capital, but it was still something to brag about to the boys. My current situation wasn’t all that different. I could see four real paths forward.

The first and most obvious was to go kill a dragon and take his hoard, then track down the legendary treasure of a lost pirate lord alongside a morally ambiguous princess.

The dashing swashbuckler method has a certain appeal, but it’s also uncertain. So much could go wrong. The dice could go against us with the dragon, or Redclaw’s treasure could have already been taken by someone with more tact. Hell, maybe they stole the treasure then sold the map to Captain Lanteri. There’s also the outside possibility of something stupid happening, like Redclaw’s treasure being a portrait of her family. We aren’t clear on the monetary reward, and to be perfectly frank it just might not be enough.

Factoring in the shares given to my crew, those two treasures would need to have a combined value of around 90,000gp to cover my debts after splitting off Varossa’s share. I am not up on dragon economics, but the odds don’t seem to be in my favor. I could of course make an impassioned plea to the boys that I need that money and promise to pay them later, but who knows if they like me that much?

The second was commerce. Sandara had a big pile of rumors we could investigate, places we could sweep clean and sell to the highest bidder. In addition, I could trust Sandara to handle any bad weather and make magic items to sell.

Of course the problem for both of these is finding a market. It doesn’t matter how many islands I have cleared for development or how many magic items I can toss around if I can’t find people willing to pay for them. If I could find 30 people willing to buy a +1 weapon or suit of armor, that would cover my debt in only a month of work; of course, that’s a hell of a lot of people willing to drop 2,000 gp each on moderately better weapons and armor. Harvesting outsiders for their gear is a potentially very profitable side hustle, but it has its own problems.

The islands are even worse; if I can sit on them until someone is willing to pay my price, they are potentially the most valuable thing I could get my hands on. With that said, they are a specialty product that needs exactly the correct buyer to come along to have any market value at all.

On top of all that, Varossa isn’t likely to take it well if I ignore her job in favor of being a merchant. She doesn’t have a formal contract but I doubt she’d be any nicer about me ducking out of our deal after accepting her help than Dovnu.

The third was debt. Always a thorny option, but the economy ran on it. Sure, everyone worries about being in debt, but they seem pretty happy to refinance their mortgage if it means a lower payment. If I could borrow the money, I could turn Dovnu’s six month maximum with harsh penalties into something a bit more survivable.

Then again, not many people are likely to fork over 30,000 gold to a stranger. They might not have formal credit scores here, but the idea stands. They don’t know if I’m a good bet, so why take a chance on me? Any deal I make will come with hooks; at minimum I’ll need to put something up as collateral. I’d be putting myself in deep, but if things look bleak I might promise to join someone’s fleet if they agree to cover my debts. It’s worth a shot.

The fourth was risk management. I’d already managed to shift my worst case scenario from eternal slavery to **** followed by a life without sorcery. It wasn’t a good outcome, but it sure as hell beat slavery. I’ve lived a lot longer without sorcery than with it.

Putting too much emphasis on making the best of a bad situation is a trap. It’s better to fall out of a window onto a mattress than concrete, but it’s much better to take the stairs if you can.

The true path was diversification. None of the paths was enough to get me to a good place alone, so I needed to jump between them as necessary. Hunt for big payouts, sell what I can, and look for potential investors, all at once. While doing so, keep an eye out for anything that would soften the blow if I need to rebound.

Yup. There's my genius strategy. Just try everything. Well, at least I won’t be bored.

The swirling smoke resolved into a feminine shape, then produced a mask and blade. I incidentally wondered if the sword was masterwork for a moment; elegant jet-black swords were a hell of a lot more marketable than big ugly halberds. I pulled back from the thought. Yael and I weren’t close, but we were friends. It was nice to have someone to talk to that was disconnected from my problems. I wasn’t going to muse about the financial possibilities of **** and murdering her people.

Stress is one hell of a ****. Why did I even think about that?

“Hey, Yael.” I said, “How are your studies going?”

“Quite well. My tutors say I’ve grown far more skilled as of late.” She said in her hollow, echoing voice. “I believe you may be responsible for that. It’s possible I will be sent forth with my retinue some time this year, to gain field experience.”

“I almost feel offended.” I said, pulling out a chair for her to sit. “Isn’t half the point of field experience to see how you perform under pressure? You faced down a hoard of ghouls; doesn’t that count as experience?”

“Only a small one.” She said, “The Nightgaunts send true armies of such beings against our lands every season. My father says that they find our city offensive to look upon. Too much life. So, how went your negotiations? Your mother in law seemed formidable.”

“Well enough.” I said, distracted by a thought. “Cave Mother made sure nothing egregious was slipped into the contract. I’m sorry, did you say you’re likely to fight a lot of undead soon?”

“Yes?” Yael said, cocking her head.

“Ok.” I retrieved a piece of paper and jotted down my idea. “We can discuss that after dinner. I agreed to pay Dovnu for my freedom. I think I can manage it, but there are a lot of hoops I need to jump through first.”

Salyar brought in dinner, and I smiled to see how eager Yael was to eat the mild, watery curry. Apparently food grown in the Netherworld tended to be lacking in flavor and color. She only got to eat something this stimulating on feast days when they had fancy imported meals. I ate mine with somewhat less gusto, and told my friend of my troubles.