Startup 33: Industrial Espionage

Arodus 26

You want her to what now?

I wish to have her bear my children. It is my most cherished desire to at least make the attempt.

I don’t know if that’s wholesome or pathetic yet. Give me a minute to decide.

Mih’Tzi stood only inches away from me, giving me a once over as I examined her in turn. Her earthy smell filled my nose as I met her gentle gaze. She had a cute, elfin face with big pink eyes and a small mouth. Her lavender skin was utterly flawless, enhanced by a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her hair fell in a dark burgundy waterfall down her back. She was dressed in a strange outfit, as if someone started with gardening coveralls and then tried desperately to make them as tight and revealing as possible, as befit her station as a full member of House J’Tar.

https://postimg.cc/w1TtLVGj

“You’ve been active, I see.” She said, gently squeezing my arm. “So what brings you here today, Lord M’Dair?”

There was a nonchalance to how she touched me, as if it were her divinely ordained right to do so. Then she turned away, and began working with her back to me. It allowed me to appreciate how tight her coveralls were in the back.

Damn. Nice ass.

“I’m doing an inspection.” I said, “Checking all of Nendra’s properties, seeing if anything has changed in the last couple months.”

She looked over her shoulder, a single thick eyebrow raised. With a flick of her wrist, a twisting ribbon of indigo light danced along one planter, killing any fungi except the tiny off-white caps she was growing there.

“Maybe something has.” She said, meeting my gaze, “I suppose it is always good to check. What have you found so far?”

“Vorys isn’t doing well.” I told her frankly. “She doesn’t seem to be doing much at all, in fact.”

“Yes of course,” She said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you have a suggestion? If you’d like, I might be able to pass it on for you.”

“No, I’ll tell Dovnu myself.” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “If I use a go-between it’ll be Kiyon.”

“Oh?” She said, standing and looking down, “Have you outgrown me so quickly?”

She looked so hurt; she hardly ever averted her eyes when we spoke. I put a familiar hand on her shoulder, prompting a **** sound from Azog behind me. She whipped her head around to look at my arm, eyes wide.

She’s allowed to touch me but not vice versa. Got it. Well I can’t back down now.

“It’s nothing like that.” I said, squeezing once and letting go quickly. “I just need to do what I think will work. I’m perfectly willing to make waves.”

“What happened to you?” She asked, eyes narrowing. “You’re very unlike yourself; I’m worried.” Damn it, this is inconvenient. (Opposed Sense Motive 10+10-5 (emotionally compromised)=15)

I hadn’t gotten a Sense Motive that clear in some time; the tone that Autopilot picked up from her body language were far more irritated than the words she spoke aloud. Notably, they also weren’t very worried.

Oh Emrys, you poor fool. You never had a chance.

“I was gone for a while, and had a few brushes with ****. It made me rethink a lot of things.” I leaned in and whispered in her ear. “So, what would my idea be worth to you?”

She smiled at me, but it was a strained smile.

“What could you desire from me?” She countered playfully, “I am but a humble mushroom farmer, Shadow of the Daughter.” Tone it down you idiot. Remember Nendra.

“Likely nothing you’d be willing to give, unfortunately,” I said, equally coy. “I intend to leave this place, perhaps never to return. I’ve made a deal with Dovnu; whatever happens, my marriage to Nendra is over soon.”

Mih’Tzi leaned back and examined me with a critical eye, her plastic smile fixed in place.

“And where do you intend to go?” She asked eventually, “Even if Dovnu allows it, the surface is unkind to our people. To be a male, alone, seems terribly lonely.”

Fuck it. We ball. She’s got magic and can run a profitable farm. Let's see where this goes.

“I won’t be alone.” I said, inviting another coughing fit from Azog by brushing a hair behind Mih’Tzi’s ear. “I can think of a few people I’d be happy to have at my side.

I winked, then turned. Her eyes were shining with longing, wishing to follow but knowing it would spell disaster. (Opposed Sense Motive 3+10-5=8).

I’m not sure about longing, but yeah. I doubt Nendra would be happy if she came home with me. So, Azog, let’s see what stories you tell.

••••••••••

“The beetles, though of course primarily of value due to their ichor, may have culinary uses as well. The meat is not of sufficient quality for drow or even freemen palates, but it would be better to supply our lowest thralls with additional protein in the form of beetle flesh, rather than allowing it to rot. I would suggest putting the darkblind slaves to the task of caring for the beetles, as their need for light would be addressed by the beetles themselves. Their value is not as living creatures, but as component parts.

In closing, it is my belief that the average goblin in the employ of Vorys D’Lann’Nes has a clearer vision for the value of a fire beetle than she does, would produce nearly twice the revenue, and would think himself a thief in the night if he could take home half of what she does.”

I looked over the second copy of the letter, the one I would hand to Nendra directly, as I finished the third, which I would stow in my desk. The first was already gone, delivered to Kiyon. I sighed and set Autopilot to the task of making a fourth, to pass on to Mih’Tzi. The important thing was that at least one of them get all the way to Dovnu. I wasn’t sure who would be my ally here, but the small changes to my recommendations would hopefully give me hints.

If she asks me about goblins, Nendra spoke to her. If she thinks I want to give it to that girl at the docks, Kiyon passed it along. If she thinks I’m trying to give it to Mih’Tzi, that’s who gave her the letter. If she thinks I want to purchase a specialized ****, she’s been going through my desk.

I wasn’t too worried about Dovnu getting multiple letters. I was holding some cards close to my chest, but a relatively simple trick like this wouldn’t give anything away. Well, anything beyond the obvious fact that I was up to something. Even better if my captors came to the conclusion that beetles were somehow the lynchpin of my plan.

I heard Nendra before I saw her; for whatever reason, she’d taken to wearing heels once she got back to Heslandaena. When I asked Autopilot, he claimed it had something to do with projecting confidence.

Those in power must flaunt their strength through their clothing. They must have nowhere to hide a weapon, as much flesh as possible exposed to enemy blades, and clothes totally unsuited for war. To wear such things proves their absolute confidence. They know that no one around them is truly a threat.

I don’t care how many times you explain it, it’s ridiculous that the leaders of the clans all agreed that dressing like a stripper projects power. Thats some gooner shit.

“Good evening, dear husband.” Nendra said as she opened the door, “Would you be so good as to refrain from using magic?”

Will save 16+7=23

You have resisted Suggestion

I hopped out of the chair and met her eye, the violet mist of her magic breaking against my body. My own charm flashed out, pierced her resistance, and was rebuffed with a flash of green. (Target is immune to Mind Affecting effects) Nendra’s lips quirked into a small smile.

“Not this time, dear husband.” She said as combat began.

Well fuck. I’m an idiot. Other people can get buffs too. Probably Protection from Chaos. Completely ices out summoning and mind altering magic from chaotic targets, which unfortunately includes me. At least I hope this is Protection from Chaos and not something heavier.

I’d used a similar spell in my duel against Plugg, and it had probably won me the Enterprise. I felt irrationally betrayed to have the same tactic turned against me. It only lasted a few minutes, but I couldn’t exactly stand and tank a dozen charm attempts and I certainly didn’t want to spend the rest of the day following Nendra around like a puppy. It was late, but I wanted to do a bit of exploration while Nendra slept; she’d certainly make me sleep at her side.

I closed my eyes and leaned back. Lack of eye contact wasn’t quite as fancy as a mind-shielding spell, but it would do.

“Nendra, I don’t have time for this.” I said, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been running around looking over your business today. I have a few suggestions.”

I vaguely held up the letter in her general direction. I didn’t expect her to like it, but figured that completely bypassing her to talk to Dovnu would end poorly if I didn’t at least attempt to include her. She snatched the letter from my hand, and was silent for several moments. I resisted the urge to peek; waiting out her buff worked in my favor.

“Now you decide to take an interest in something other than ogling my cousin?” She growled. “Now, of all times? Not only that, your first suggestion is to make an enemy of Vorys?”

My nerves all fired at once, as if needles punctured every square inch of my body. (7 nonlethal)

“Damn it, Nendra!” I said. I distinctly did not yelp in pain, for that would be undignified. “Stop it!”

I knew she wouldn’t, unfortunately, so I did the only logical thing. I summoned fog and dove behind the bed. I hadn’t ever pulled one of my weather tricks with Nendra before, even gathering water from the rain barrel for bathing myself. I was tipping my hand, but only slightly. I wove the deceptive magic of my heritage into the act, mimicking the hand motions I’d seen from Sandara before and twisting my magic into the shape of a lesser spell. Obscuring mist was a common enough first circle spell, easily excused as a variant on my mother’s talents. (Rakshasa Arcanum: Sleight of Hand 20+12=32. Critical Success! Weather Control disguised as Obscruring Mist)

She could not use her magic on someone she couldn’t see, and in the dense magical fog her arcane sight was worse than useless to track me.

“Nendra, if you keep pushing me it’s going to end poorly for you.” I told her, deepening my voice. “The only thing that stops me from killing you is fear of reprisal, and I have ways around that.”

Had she been able to see me huddled beside her vanity, it likely would have somewhat spoiled the effect. However, I was able to throw my voice, emulating Yael by making myself seem to move around Nendra in the thick fog. (Intimidate 18+12=30)

You have successfully seduced Nendra D’Lann

What the hell? Fucking mission. I can’t, not unless I have a plan for the other two. Well at least now I know how. That, and she’s turned on. Maybe I can use that.

“Play nice, don’t try to hurt me, and I promise we can try for a child at least once before I leave.” I purred, padding up directly behind her. “Keep pushing, and you’ll never live down the embarrassment.” (Diplomacy 12+12+5(total stud)+5(leveraging a motivation)=32)

Nendra is temporarily neutral.

“You promise?” She asked, subdued, craning her head around to see me from a few inches away. I caught a whiff of cinnamon perfume, pressed so close behind her.

“On both fronts.” I agreed, then thoroughly spoiled it by being stopped in the hallway by the guards. (Opposed Stealth 3+12=15)

On a positive note, Nendra was sufficiently turned on that I actually had a pretty good time after they dragged me back into the room. She decided to try for a child right there, then fell asleep without trying to kill me even once.

Fuck it. I need to sleep some time. Might as well be now.

••••••••••

Around five hours later, I woke up fully refreshed and silently thanked myself for not discarding Great Stamina. I extracted myself from Nendra’s arms without waking her, which required a degree of contortion as she also had me wrapped in her legs. (Escape Artist 19+11=30)

I dressed myself in utter silence, pocketed a deck of cards in the trunk, opened the window, made myself invisible with a quick spell, and slipped out. I fell down over a hundred feet to the floor of the cavern, landing lightly. I suspected that any drow noble would be able to vaguely sense my presence by detecting the aura of illusion that concealed me, but that was a concern for less than 10% of the drow population of Heslandaena.

Autopilot suggested a place where I could safely practice my magic, but I was very nervous about slipping away to House M’Dair, halfway across the city. Emrys claimed that his mother-son relationship was strong for a drow, but I wasn’t sure if I trusted that. Not only did I have a very shaky understanding of drow family dynamics, Mih’Tzi had shown me that the former occupant of this body wasn’t a perfect judge of character. I wasn’t ready to show off my magic to Carys, only to have her brag about my secrets to the girlies.

I didn’t leave the grounds of House D’Lann, and was mildly surprised to find the caverns as populated as they were. Not just a night watch; it seemed that Heslandaena never slept.

Or possibly Dovnu just has a bunch of people working the night shift. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Instead, I made my way to the training yard, and from there let Emrys figure out my destination. He was good at that.

“Worm!” I hissed at one of the idle orcs leaving the latrines, grabbing him by the throat and pulling him into the shadows, “You will tell me where I may find the mutant guards, and you shall tell no one that we spoke.” (Diplomacy to gather information 3+12=15 Success!)

Dude! Chill!

••••••••••

The mutants from House L’Rath were largely unguarded, kept at the bottom of a deep pit. The walls were polished smooth, leaving no handholds to speak of, so that the only way out was a ladder. My buddies huddled there together at the bottom, largely ignored and sparsely guarded unless they were needed.

The pit seemed to be natural, since it had a shallow cave jutting off to the side; I couldn’t imagine dovnu signing off on an excavation that would give her slaves somewhere to hide. Her thriftiness worked in my favor this time.

I levitated down shortly before my second invisibility spell of the night faded, and walked up to the small wooden latrine. Given how rarely it was cleaned out, I instantly regretted that choice. I knocked a warning to be quiet, one of the few things I’d internalized from their ad-hoc language, before I forcibly dismissed my spell. The hobgoblins zeroed in on me quickly. The other two whipped their heads around in the darkness, unable to see without light.

“Bartok, put your fists down.” I whispered, relying on my tone and his name since he didn’t speak common, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Would have been really nice to learn goblin. I have a goblin friend after all. It would have checked out.

All four of the mutants were unarmored, covered only with big baggy sacks and their locked mittens. Even here, they couldn’t be allowed to “speak” to one another. I turned to Filli, the rat-girl, and focused on the inoffensive pink end of her snout as I spoke to her in common.

“I need a secret space.” I whispered, gesturing at the cave and held up a deck of cards, “can I use yours?”

She tapped the dirt covered floor, looking around at her friends. A staccato conference ensued; I didn’t really get their language, but the tension was clear in their posture. Bartok eventually growled at the other three and stalked over to the opposite wall, then Filli nodded at me, took the cards, and led me into the cramped nook. It was too small for more than one of the mutants to stand in, and it wasn’t exactly roomy for me either, but I had enough space to do my business.

First off, I etched a diagram and summoned a very specific devil. Zaz had apparently done a stint in the prime material on an island called Devil’s Arches. He’d never been to Port Peril, but he knew approximately where it was and was capable of teleporting hundreds of miles. He was a disgusting little creature, like a cross between a horsefly and a particularly ugly baby, but he was smart enough to find my crew and deliver messages. I hadn’t had many opportunities to call him, but for now he was my point of contact with my crew.

I didn’t give him time to speak. Devils were little assholes, and Zebubs didn’t even try to dress it up like some.

“Show me the letter.” I commanded him, holding out a hand.

He glared at me, but did as commanded. Zebub had a fairly handy combination of abilities that helped them in their role as the spies of hell; a photographic memory, and the ability to share those memories telepathically. As his chubby fingers touched mine, a clear mental image formed. A handwritten note held up by a skeptical looking Syl.

“Leaving port Arodus 22

Couldn’t hold Sinkitah

Attempted sabotage already, tightened security

Letters sent

Meet us Rova 7 at the agreed spot

No takers”

I sighed at the last line. They hadn’t managed to find anyone willing to fork over 1000 gold to commission a magic item from a total unknown. Hardly a surprise, but still disappointing. The rest told me everything was mostly going according to plan. I was certainly worried about the sabotage, though.

Nendra had friends in Port Peril, and while she was proving to be a bit short sighted it didn’t take much tactical sense to ask a friend for help. If Emrys had been operating as a solo act, Sinkitah would have knocked him out for hours.

“Tell me about the situation in Port Peril.” I demanded. “Who is fucking with them?”

“I don’t know.” A shrill voice issued from its mandibles, “I habitually purge unnecessary memories from my mind. I was only ordered to memorize the letter.”

I sighed.

Goddamn devils. Almost as bad as demons, I swear. No. Not almost as bad. Probably just as bad; just different. Slightly easier to work with in the moment, but that’s only because they have a plan to fuck you later.

“Go back.” I commanded. “Tell them I’ll be there, memorize another letter, and don’t purge any memories from the next five days. I’ll want a full report.”

The mutants watched me with morbid fascination, wrinkling their noses at the smell of brimstone the devil left in his wake. I waved one hand in front of my nose and created a faint draft to blow the scent away. I couldn’t summon my next outsider into a cloud of brimstone mingled with shit and body odor. That would be rude.

Just shit and body odor will have to do. Call me Mr. Febreeze.

Ten minutes letter, as a cloud of smoke condensed into a feminine silhouette, I bowed.

“Fret not, my friend.” Yael said in her echoing tone, “I know you are in dire straits. Are you ready to retrieve your equipment?”

Her mask emerged from the mass of shadows that made up her body, followed by a bone-white satchel glowing with magical auras. She reached in and pulled out my revolver, cocking her head to the side.