Startup 36: Hostile Work Environment

Arodus 28

As I lay in my cell, trussed up like a pig, I had a lot of time to think. Primarily, I thought about how Autopilot’s rules were bullshit.

What do you mean, you can’t try again?

After a failed Escape Artist or Disable Device check, the roll can not be repeated until something has meaningfully changed. Similarly, you can not simply attempt a Bluff check until someone believes you. This should not be a surprise.

It wasn’t, but it was still a disappointment. Autopilot had managed some truly silly things, so I’d honestly been hoping I could pop the lock or wriggle out the moment Azog left to get me some bread. If he was really on my side, it would give him plausible deniability. If he wasn’t, he didn’t need to know anything. Unfortunately, a 23 and a 25 were not enough for “Masterwork Manacles.”

Seriously. You can hide a whole damn gun during a strip search but you can’t get out of chains?

Carys had left me with some potentially interesting reading material, but I didn’t particularly want to start reading while my hands were chained to my feet. Once I was done with far more cathartic bitching than I care to admit, I got creative. The first and most obvious attempt, of course, was trying to burst my bonds with brute strength.

I arched my back forward, straightening out my body, and the manacles bit deeply into my wrists.

Burst Bonds 17+0=17

Yeah I expected that. Was hoping for a natural 20; it would have been cool.

Teleporting out of the manacles was also a bust. I turned my body into cold air, rushed to the other side of the room, and reformed… with my manacles intact. Unfortunately, the damn things counted as clothes so they got a free ride whether I wanted them or not.

On the bright side, that means I can get around if I really need to. I’d look ridiculous, but that’s what invisibility is for.

With the obvious options out of the way and at least one admittedly shit escape route secured, I started to experiment.

My shadow puppet was useless; theoretically it would have been able to give me a buff with the “help” action, allowing me a reroll, but that required that it act in the same turn as Autopilot. Since the shadow puppet could only act when directed by Autopilot, that was a bust. It attempted to pick the lock, but without proper tools that was another nat-20 fishing expedition.

I could do enough damage with my frost blast to damage the Manacles, but in doing so I also made the iron cuffs around my wrists cold enough to stick to my skin and do a few points of cold damage.

More information is good. This could work, in theory. I don’t think I’m getting out of town today, but I can certainly keep this in mind.

I’d been expecting Azog to return, and he did. He wasn’t alone, however, and he didn’t stay long. Nendra entered the cell along with a few human servants, who assembled a small table and chairs in silence. Another pair of bundled up human women set out a few platters of food.

“My dear husband.” She said softly. “I hoped we might be able to dine together. Alone.”

The servants scurried out at the implied command. I craned my neck to look at her, and was surprised. She wasn’t dressed the way I’d seen her since arriving in Heslandaena; instead, she had on the kind of dress I’d seen her wear the first time we’d met. Layered silk and brocade covered nearly every inch of her skin; she was even wearing gloves. Her hair was pinned up in an elaborate bun. I closed my eyes before she could meet my gaze.

“I’d love to,” I drawled, “but I’m a bit tied up.”

“Of course.” She said, “Allow me to help. It truly saddens me that things have to be this way.”

She used a key to detach my legs from my arms, though my wrists were still behind my back. She helped me onto one of the two chairs. When I snuck a peek at her, I noticed that she was averting her eyes. She looked down at the table, or my chest, as she gently took a spoon and held a spoonful of food to my lips.

Ok. What the hell is her angle?

“Relax.” She said, failing to suppress a note of harshness, “This is what you like isn’t it? Women who do things for you?”

She started to slice into the entree, which looked like a shockingly normal steak with mushroom gravy to me. When she held the thin slice to my lips, I took a bite. Anything else would have been petulant; the food wasn’t enchanted, and I had a couple things I could summon later if she poisoned me. It was delicious, I think, but I didn’t have time to focus on that. I peered into her thoughts; even a quick peek might help me figure out why she was doing this.

“I’m prettier than those mayflies. I’m more powerful. I’m rich, I can do anything for him he could ever hope for.” She thought. “It must be the Rakshasa blood; he needs to be pampered. I can understand that. Just be nice. You can do this, Nendra.”

“I’m not heartless, you know.” Nendra said aloud, offering me a spoonful of brown rice. “If you’d like, you can keep the mayflies as pets. We can even find you prettier ones when they get old, ones you don’t need to manage. Just come back willingly, and we can start over. There’s nothing stopping that in the contract.”

She’s serious, isn’t she?

“I’m not sure if I can do that.” I said, cautiously. “If I don’t pay your mother, I will have my magic stripped away.”

“You don’t need sorcery if you have me.” Nendra said, stroking my cheek. “I know I can be erratic, but I’m getting better. I promise. I can fill centuries with the pleasures of Elysium if you let me, now that I know what you want. My father runs a publishing company, you know, because mother knew it would make him happy. He likes stories.”

“What is it that you propose?” I asked, morbidly curious. “If I come back, what would you offer?”

“We could open a brothel, if you’d like.” She said, smiling at me. “I’d want your attention most often, but we could have a whole stable of girls for you. We could even buy a crop of those human or tiefling girls you like. They age quickly, and we could raise them to the life. Mother wants more visitors, once we have control. There would be a market by the time it was ready.”

She was so excited, so eager to share the idea with me, that I needed a moment to process what she was saying. Nendra really, truly thought I would be interested in raising and pimping out a stable of sex slaves. She was earnestly trying to meet me halfway, and as fucked up as the whole idea was, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity. I smiled back at her gently.

So, if I’m supposed to think like a rakshasa, what would a hedonistic evil cat man say?

“It’s a little more complicated than that.” I said, heaving out a theatrical sigh, “It isn’t enough to have such things given to me. I need to take them. It isn’t satisfying to be a pet, I want to take people. Subjugate those who thought themselves my equals, and manipulate those who are less than me. I need to fight and win.”

Nendra froze, staring down at the plate of beef. For emphasis, I shifted my wrists so the manacles would clink. (Bluff 19+13=32)

“I believe that, if you fall in line, that can be arranged.” She said, then grimaced, “I apologize for my harshness in the past. It will likely happen again, but I will try to restrain myself. Perhaps I need to have someone or something else to vent my rage upon.”

Despite the insanity of the situation, I was struck an overwhelming sense of deja vu. I’d had this exact conversation with an ex of mine, Maddie, most recently a month or two ago after she’d thrown a mug at my head.

Please come back, we are better together, I’m sorry, I take it all back, I’m just crazy, I can’t help it, I can change.

I’d fallen for it then, over and over. Her dad was a senator, she was pretty damn hot, and we did have some good times. I figured that she was young and so was I, and we could be a real power couple once she grew out of being a crazy bitch. Everyone deserves a second chance.

How about a third, or a fifth? Words never translated to action. She never actually changed, she never actually stopped being paranoid, she never actually stopped with the random shit tests she heard about on TikToc. Six years for me to get my masters, dating her on and off. Only now, months after my own ****, did I realize that she probably wasn’t ever going to stop being crazy.

She might even mean it, but she won’t follow through. She can’t. How many years was she with Emrys before I got here? Even if I can negotiate her into something saner than a generational brothel, how can I trust her enough to build anything she’d have power over? I can use it, though.

“Prove it.” I said, looking her in the eye. “If you’ve grown as a person so much, let me take what I want. Let me go out and pay your mother, and I promise I’ll come back at least once a year for the next century. I’ll even let you on my ship.”

I nearly pulled control away from Autopilot; that wasn’t what I’d initiated the diplomacy check for. I was stopped, however, by an errant thought.

It’s called a big ask. Let me work.

“Of course not!” Nendra cried, softness fleeing from her face, “Mother would never trust me with another task if I simply let you go free.”

“Something else then.” I pressed, “If you want me to believe that you would give me what I desire, then do it. I’ll even give you the opportunity to delay my escape. If I ask you for a woman, I want you to allow me to sleep with her on my own terms. If you arrange it, then that very same night I will give you a night of passion like none you have ever seen. I know what you truly desire, and I know how to give it to you.”

Nendra’s eyes narrowed; she knew what I was angling for, though she didn’t know why.

“And who, might I ask, would you desire?” Her voice was hard, cold.

“Vorys, and I want Dovnu there to make sure she cooperates.” I said, surprising even myself. “Tell her she can keep the beetles if she agrees to a show of submission to the main house. We still need to make changes, but she can keep her name on it and continue doing just as much as she’s doing now.” (Diplomacy 20+12+5=32 Critical Success)

Nendra beamed. She seemed genuinely thrilled that I didn’t ask for Mih’Tzi. (Sense Motive 12+10=22)

“I believe that can be arranged.” Nendra said, “How about tomorrow?”

If Nendra can manage it, that’s two. How the fuck do we do all three? Also, Vorys had better be at least moderately attractive. All I know about her is that she’s shit at beetle ranching.

••••••••••

Nendra finished feeding me after that, though she didn’t unchain me. It looked like I tipped my hand after that last stunt. It wasn’t going to be so easy to move around anymore. For now, I needed to sit tight and let the next step unfold on its own.

I used mage hand to pull out the list from Carys, and scanned through it. I initially planned to have Autopilot listen for anyone approaching while I read, but Carys hadn’t been overly descriptive. I needed to consult my inner Drow encyclopedia every few seconds to make heads or tails of the list. I just let Autopilot give me a thesis statement for now, and tried to memorize as many names as I could.

There are relatively few people in the town that can teleport, but a few more that could potentially smuggle me out. Dovnu has sole access to the surface, but most of our trade is done underground. I wasn’t really hated on a personal level by many, though a few people Carys knew of absolutely would kill me if given the chance to do so discretely.

Focusing on those who fall upon both lists, there are only two. My Grandmother considers me to be an indirect threat to the M’Dair line of succession in the event I actually managed to have a child with Nendra, and the leaders of House N’Quin would kill any member of House D’Lann on principle.

On principle? What principle?

They wish to remove Dovnu in order to take the surface trade for themselves.

That is surprisingly normal. Ok. Fair play, N’Quin but you obviously don’t have quick access to the surface so you’re out. Why did Carys include them?

Smuggling through the Darklands. They have dwarven allies on the mainland that could get us to Port Peril.

I didn’t intend to rely on my new Grandma or Dovnu’s political rivals for transportation, but I filed both away as an emergency escape hatch. In the dark I toyed with the idea of convincing House N’Quin to pay off my debt just to spite Dovnu. If I could flip them from hostile to helpful I might be able to swing it, but it had its own problems.

Mara N’Quin would be more likely to purchase us than free us, even then. We’d end up married to a different drow trade princess by the time the scroll wore off, one who no doubt would be extremely upset about the entire exchange.

I ruminated on my situation, giving Nendra time to make the proposal to Dovnu. I didn’t really care if she signed off on it because she was indulging her daughter or because she thought it would be funny, as long as she didn't block the idea completely. I wanted to act, but my next plan was too sensitive to try while Nendra was awake.

I went through the laborious process of extracting information from Autopilot, teasing out data and opinions from Emrys’s memories. I could only really get hard facts based on things I knew to ask about, but that would hopefully be fine. I just needed enough information to figure out my next steps. There were two more quests for A Renagade Male lined up after I got Dovnu off my back.

One was to become recognized as a hero or paragon of the drow community. If I won the bet and spread the tale, that might qualify. Unfortunately, it would also piss off Dovnu. She gave me the impression that she could be reasoned with to some degree, and might even sponsor me moving forward if I impressed her. An amicable divorce was the whole point of this song and dance with the contract. If I got out and then embarrassed her in public for seemingly no reason, she’d be a real enemy from that moment on.

The other, to become the highest authority among the drow in the Shackles, reinforced that position. Dovnu could be an enemy or an ally there, and it would all come down to whether she thought me being in power would benefit her. I didn’t think I could completely trust her, even if I could align our interests, but she could be useful.

I had very spotty information on the rest. M’Dair, Emrys’s own family, were apparently a patch of thorns. They were currently the most powerful house, but the only strong ally I had there was Carys. Apparently there was some kind of succession crisis going on; Mother Dearest would be the heir if she had any heirs herself. Boys, of course, were not heirs no matter how badass they may or may not be. Grandkids counted, but only if Nendra agreed to give them back to House M’Dair.

No chance of that until she has at least two girls, I imagine, even setting aside the fact that she is actually quite fond of her niece.

Her niece would be my niece. Are you telling me I have a cousin-niece? Are we in Alabama?

Her elder brother was wed to my aunt, Carys’s younger sister, in trade. I was considered to be of substantially higher value due to my confirmed sorcerous bloodline.

So even setting aside the succession thing, that family unit is probably not my friend in the war of me vs Nendra.

House N’Quinn seemed the most normal, in that they just made things. Mundane objects, like artwork, furniture, clothes, fancy foods, etc. They didn’t even enchant most of it; it was just really high quality craftsmanship. They ran the local economy, and they hated Dovnu with a passion.

It’s a shame Carys thinks they’d kill me if they could get away with it. They sound like a good backup trading partner if things go tits up with D’Lann. Enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all that.

House L’Rath, the mad scientist flesh warping clan, were ironically the ones that seemed easiest to get in good with. They maintained a stance of strict neutrality, backed by the services only they could provide. They didn’t have any negative baggage with Emrys or Dovnu, though they would probably be the ones to do the procedure if I lost the wager.

Most importantly, I had something they wanted: access to Abyssal Quintessence. I wasn’t sure how they got their hands on it normally, but Autopilot seemed fairly certain they would be reliable customers no matter how much I offered them. It was shelf stable, and had tons of uses. Nearly all of the uses were awful, but they made their money doing awful things on commission.

Easy allies, but I can’t see myself staying friendly for too long. I don’t care what the menu says; I won’t consider myself an authority here until I can stop bullshit like they did to Filli and the others from happening. Maybe I’ll be able to get them to downgrade to animal testing without killing all of them? Maybe.

I was lost in thought, going over old knowledge checks for level 6 outsiders and laying on the floor as comfortably as I could manage, when I heard a thump outside. I tried to sit up, my pride too strong to let Nendra walk in on me laying prone on the floor. Then I processed what I was actually hearing: a wet gurgle, the sound of someone unable to shout through the blood. (Perception 9+12=21)

The door opened, and a hooded figure entered the room. She wore one of the heavy, hooded coats we garbed our servants in, though she had removed the vision restricting mask. She was incredibly pale, with a pink flush of exertion coloring her cheeks and red painted lips. Dovnu did not keep any half-drow on staff as servants.

Combat has begun. Roll initiative.

••••••••••

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