Thank you for calling the Starfinder hotline. A Venture-Representative will be with you shortly...
You find yourselves once again within the Lorespire Complex, responding to a summons for another mission.
Venture-Captain Naiaj watches a map holographically projected onto the spherical wall of the dimly lit chamber. This meeting room is aptly named the “Starscape Chamber” and hosts various important strategic meetings for the Society. The pale bleachling gnome slightly nods a greeting, hardly looking away from the stellar map. “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice,” she says, as she finally turns away from the map. “As you should already know, the Starfinder Society lost not only many agents but also a great deal of equipment in the Scoured Stars incident. Since then, we’ve been dealing with a shortage of guns, ammunition, armor, tools, and provisions. Over the past four months, the Society has recovered to the point that we are able to start replacing some of the equipment we lost. While we are explorers, right now, battle-ready firearms are sorely needed.”
Naiaj momentarily turns to face the map and makes a request: “Starscape, show me Nightarch.” The map on the wall zooms in on one of the outermost planets of the Pact Worlds, showing a gloomy, air-sealed settlement on the small gray planetoid identified as Apostae. “After calling in a lot of favors and holding lengthy negotiations, we managed to secure a deal with the drow of Apostae to obtain a shipment of weapons. House Zeizerer arranged a deal between the Starfinder Society and House Xicton, a lesser drow house with a solid track record on sales. I personally oversaw the negotiations, and only recently returned to Absalom Station to deposit the down payment owed to House Xicton.”
“My intention was to send you to Nightarch, the drow’s surface settlement on Apostae, to guard this delivery. However,” Naiaj pauses briefly, staring blankly at the map on the wall before continuing, “I just received word that the weapon shipment has been stolen. According to my contacts in Nightarch, the thief is a minor noble of House Zeizerer named Villyth, who went rogue and stole the weapons. We do not know her motives or the current whereabouts of the shipment, but I’m sending you to Nightarch to find the weapons and bring them to Absalom Station. As you may have heard, the interhouse politics of the drow are lethal and treacherous, and you will find only trouble if you start searching blindly. For this reason, I’ve arranged for you to meet with Ceobarn Zeizerer, who represents House Zeizerer in this specific matter. You are to discuss how the Society can get its shipment back without causing a diplomatic incident.
“Your shuttle is ready, so I expect you to get your things and get going as soon as possible. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask.”
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A tall and remarkable handsome lashunta stands front and center for the briefing, having placed himself there...intentionally.
"So, some skillful and wise negotiations are required, are they? Then do not fear, for all bow down before the charisma of Mustachio Marino. That is me. Mustachio Marino." He turns to everyone else in the room.
"Of course, you have all seen me before on the infospheres. You probably remember me as Billy, Red Ranger of Star Rangers Extreme Paradox. I moonlight with the Society to pad out the old CV. Ah, Donovan! You again. We traversed together not too long ago, in that mission where I did that thing and saved the day. Remember? Just a normal day in the life of an action hero."
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Schlak is in the room leaning against a wall. He is a short vesk (short by vesk standards) dressed in a garish purple suit and his one little spike slicked back. He nods and smiles at the group while listening in on the briefing. "Names schlak, nice to meet you. This isn't my first rodeo in the society. I'll do by my best." He says to everyone. (By best he means the minimal output for maximum effect.)
Turns to Naiaj "Couple questions. What's this fellow look like? How do we have this contact with with House of zeizerer or better yet who are they? Also do we have details as to which kinds of weapons we are to recover? " he asks in rapid fire.
Naiaj mulls over the questions for a moment, then answers carefully.
“Like it or not, Apostae is not only a member of the Pact Worlds, but also the weapon capital of the solar system. Their firearms are high quality and come at reasonable prices. Despite their fearsome reputation, drow are generally as good as their word when it comes to selling and trading weapons.”
“House Zeizerer are the most powerful drow household on Apostae, controlling the major surface settlement of Nightarch. They are demon-worshipers and arms dealers like the rest of them, but as far as drow houses go, they are quite reliable because they have a reputation to uphold. Complications like this are bad for the business. Our representative with them, Ceobarn Zeizerer, has always been blunt and up-front with me—how I prefer to handle most of my social interactions.”
Turning to Donovan she adds, “Villyth is a minor noble in the hierarchy of House Zeizerer. I understand that she is something of a rebel, and as far as I know, her actions were not sanctioned by her house. I'll trust you to root out just how deep this goes.”
She taps a few buttons on a datapad and all of your personal computers buzz as they receive a notification.
"I have forwarded you a shipping manifest that includes all of what was promised to us."
Some of you may have heard of Nightarch before...
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"Nightarch... city of the drow. A small city, but big enough that most...no... all... will have seen my show. Are we to go in incognito or will we officially represent the Starfinder Society? Cause..." He laughs and shakes his head knowingly... "...I may be mobbed by the populace as soon as we get there! Maybe will have to bring my stack of headshots to autograph..."
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"Mustachio! Or, should I say Captain Mustache? Haha, we had some good times back on Salvation's End! Great to see you, old man!" Faraeon slaps his fellow lashunta on the back with a hearty laugh.
"Ha! Isn't that just like you, too, to only remember how big a settlement is?! If you think the orcs and half-orcs of Nightarch are likely to know you're show, you don't know much about the city! Those poor folks are treated as second-class citizens at best, and slaves at worst. Most orcs and halforcs are destined to live and die as mercenaries, or, as some drow houses prefer to put it, cannon fodder.
"Now, like our esteemed VC here could tell you, weapons are Nightarch’s main export, and many drow houses are involved in arms trade. What most people don’t know is that there are actually thousands of miles of tunnels and numerous vaults of alien technology beneath the surface of Apostae. Many weapons designed in Nightarch are reverse-engineered from this technology.
"Of the many bizarre technologies that drow are known for, fleshwarping is perhaps the least understood. It involves mutations and magic to transform a humanoid creature into a hate-filled abomination. This was originally a punishment, but a more refined form of fleshwarping can be used to create augmentations which—while gruesome to behold—greatly enhance the individual’s physical qualities. Maybe some of that would be helpful for you, Mustachio? In the most drastic cases of fleshwarping, the target often suffers from incredibly reduced intelligence, limiting the creature’s tactical acumen, so at least there would be little risk for you! Haha"
Faraeon once again pats Mustachio on the shoulder with more laughter, "Of course I'm only kidding you! Don't worry, Naiaj, we'll track down this thief and make sure she returns our shipment. While we're at it, we'll see if we can figure out exactly why she decided to go rogue like this! If she's double-crossing her own family, maybe there's some greater reason. Or maybe she's just stirring the pot. Either way, we'll find out!"
"I would be careful using your name and 'headshots' in the same sentence in Nightarch. The Drow more frequently think of the other definition... that and unless you're in one of those aggrosyth bands, they probably haven't seen your show."
"A shuttle has been prepared, but if you have any final preparations you need to make before you go, feel free. Better you go prepared than early."
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He turns to Mustachio, "Mustachio you sound popular. I've never heard of ya though. I hope someday to make a name for myself as well. I'm Schlak." he nods.
He says to the group, "Well I better gear up for our flight. These drow sound like a tricky bunch. This flesh warping doesn't sound appealing either. I'd hate to be on the receiving end of that one. "
That said he decides to make a few purchases before our journey.
The otherwise empty shuttle takes you on a week long journey to Apostae, giving you quite some time to get to know one another. Finally, after an uneventful journey, you arrive at your destination.
As the shuttle approaches the dull gray planetoid, several fighters emerge from a hulking capital ship identified as part of the local fleet defense: the Blood Armada. These fighters whizz past like a swarm of angry wasps. The navigation computer lets out a blaring alert as the capital ship scans the shuttle, but soon after, the alert ends and the fighters fly back to the massive carrier.
The shuttle descends into low-orbit, and several small settlements with sealed atmospheres come into view. Further out, beneath clouds of dust, several mile-wide blast doors, many large craters, and miles-deep crevices can be seen across the planetoid’s surface. The shuttle soars closer to Apostae’s surface, fast approaching the dark city of Nightarch.
The eponymous arch and various tower houses can be seen within the city limits. Nightarch’s vast spaceport is alive with hundreds of blinking red and purple lights, which guide the shuttle into the gloomy capital of the drow.
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Schlak watches the event. He says to the party, "They are checking out our ship? Tight security but, if they want a fight I'll give it to em."
He then sees the shuttle descending onto the surface of Apostae. He looks over at the city of Nightarch and sees how gloomy it is. He waits for the shuttle to fully land before stepping out and attempts to get his bearings.
"Well we better find our guide." At this point he checks his data pad for the detailed information from earlier.
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Faraeon lets out a relieved sigh as the alarms quiet down, "Good thing the shooting didn't start though. I don't think our little shuttle here is exactly outfitted to take on a capital ship and a squadron of fighters!"
He turns to Gunnar and Donovan, "Can't say I do speak Drow, but I'm pretty sure most of these folks will be just as comfortable speaking Common, so we shouldn't be too far out of the loop. Let's just keep our eyes peeled. Sometimes body language tells you more than words."
Faraeon looks down at his comm unit, taps in a few commands, and looks at his companions, "Any of you guys know what the wi-fi password is for Nightarch?"
Neither of Mustachio's recommended passwords work, however there are numerous unsecured wifi hotspots in the area... for those who don't value their privacy.
As you disembark from the shuttle, you are met by two drow guards. "You are expected. Follow."
They escort you through a labyrinth of air-filled, enclosed tunnels to Mileshadow, a tall corporate building owned by House Zeizerer. They escort you into the lift where they punch in a code to access the top floor of the building, the whole way speaking no more than is required to give direction. The guards open the door to a spacious office on the top floor of the tall building, and without even a hint of emotion, one drow barely mutters, “Wait here.” The green-tinged windows in the room offer a majestic view over the gloomy Nightarch. Several statues and holographic devices depicting grinning fiends sit on shelves on the walls and on a darkwood desk at the far end of the room. A curious fixture reminiscent of a demonic spider looks down from the ceiling with many glistening eyes.
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Schlak follows the guards with the rest of the group. He says at no one in particular, "Not much for talking huh. I'm not sure I can handle the silence." He grins at the guards.
Once they reach the top of the corporate building he looks down. He sees the statutes and the demonic spiders and looks puzzled. He says to Faraeon" Don't know about Abraxas but, this place gives me the creeps. I really don't get the aesthetics. I'm not one for cheery bright but this is much." He shrugs.
With that he finds a seat and quietly makes himself at home waiting for whomever will come.
After 5 minutes a wall panel at the back of the office slides open, and a middle-aged drow walks in and settles into a red armchair behind the desk. “I am Ceobarn Zeizerer.” He gives a nonchalant wave of his hand, and the demonic statue in the ceiling starts shedding a purple glow, illuminating the room. He continues, speaking slowly and deliberately, as if tasting each word before speaking it.
“I take it that your eyes haven’t adjusted to the light levels on Apostae. You are Naiaj’s Starfinders, correct? I heard about the shipment. A most unfortunate setback. Villyth has always been a troublemaker.”
After a brief silence, he spits, “But it is not our fault. House Zeizerer officially disowned her months ago. Why should I help you?”
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Shclak sighs for a moment and looks the drow up and down. He says, "look we want our shipment back without any diplomatic issues. House Xicton is the one doing business with us but your house has the biggest reputation around here. If word gets out among the pact worlds that weapons are being stolen it will hurt your business. As outsiders they won't understand your politics; they will only see that weapons were stolen from the society before shipment arrived. "
He takes a deep breath,
"However, as outsiders we need someone who has a high reputation and understanding of drow business. We will get our shipment back and word will never go out. If you refuse our requests I'll certainly complain to the starfinders and other organizations within the pact worlds about my dealings on Apostae."
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"Hi there, Mister Zeizerer... whoo boy trying saying your name 10 times fast, am I right? Well sir, I'm sure I have no need to introduce myself, but the name is Mustachio Marino, and I am very happy to sign any autographs you or your children desire."
"But even if that is not enough to convince you to help us, how about this little thought... This Villyth of yours seems to be a troublemaker like you say... And sure you disowned her, sure, but she is going to keep causing trouble, and people like us are going to keep bothering you. You help us track her down, and we will bring her to you so you can deal with her yourself, and maybe that will stop unwanted visits, yes? This can't be good for your reputation, whether she is disowned or not."
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Donovan lights a cigar and puts his feet on some furniture. "You're absolutely right. Why should you help. I mean everyone knows how shoddy Zeizerer security is and will easily believe that Villyth has been truly disavowed and isn't some deniable asset being used to take product sold to a customer so you can resell it at a later time or worse, use that product against your enemies. I mean, how many shipments have 'gone missing' or have been 'stolen' by her? No one will even take notice. The only reason we did business with your company is because we're a little known organization with few resources and no allies among the major corporations and governments in the Pact Worlds and beyond. So, yeah, you have no reason to help us with this at all." Donovan pauses and looks around. "Do you have an ash tray? I'd hate to leave a mess for you to clean up later."
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Faraeon shrugs and gives a sigh as the others go straight for the jugular in their arguments, "My comrades here are right, I'm afraid. You may have officially disowned Vilyth, but as long as she still uses the name 'Zeizerer', there will be a stain on your house's reputation. Now, your family has a long and storied history of fighting to stay on top. Do you really want to let a mishap like this be the stray pebble that makes you lose your footing?"
Zeizerer seems noticably frustrated with Donavan kicking his feet up and periodically picks up items that were displaced by him, inspects them, then places them back down in their original positions. The inference of weakness on behalf of his house certainly seems to take the wind out of his sails a bit.
"It is true that new of the incident may affect House Zeizerer's reputation as reliable arms traders across the Pact Words. However, such a reputation may be mended. As I said, Villyth has been disavowed and her actions from this point forth are of no interest to me. A lone rebel using my house name can be forgotten, just the same as when many a lone mercenary claims to be a Starfinder. It is understood who among each house speaks for the house."
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"Having a rebel like Villyn is bad news. While things can be mended that still takes time. Misinformation is quick to travel just as the truth is. Not everyone in the pact world will understand that it's merely a lone rebel stealing shipments. Why take a risk and spend time mending contacts when we can take care of it right now. Why risk the loss in profit, even if temporary?"
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"Look. Helping us is a win-win situation for ya. We remove an annoying thorn in your side and we claim our guns which lets us put your wares on display for the whole system to see. The Society works with all kindsa other people. Fer instance I'm one of their hired guns and I've worked with AbadarCorp for 'em plenty a times. Couldn't hurt you none if the next time I work alongside some big corporate types they get to see your guns in action."
Ceobarn considers Mustachio's overture. "There are... business ventures that are best undertaken when accompanied by a larger organization."
Glaring at Schlack he adds, "...although preferably those who are a little less... overt about their methods."
Looking at Gunnar he runs his hands through his hair then slowly continues. "Yes... I have on rare occasion found it beneficial to employ other... muscle outside of my organization. But it is... costly for me to acquire the appropriate... permits."
He eyes Mustachio pointedly. "About... 100 for the license... 50 for notary... 50 to keep it quiet... another 50 in... tips... and... well.. my time is valuable... I do not have enough faith in your organization to put my own credits forward, but for... 300 credits I'd be willing to consider placing the Starfinder Society on my list of approved suppliers."
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Mustachio nods in agreement as Gunnar passes the credstick over. "Yes, a bribe for you would be just fine. I have no problem with bribes. Bribes grease the wheels of business and make the galaxy run. I am PRETTY sure my agent dropped a pretty big bribe to get me hired in...ah....nevermind about that."
It seems that Mustachio could not possibly say the word bribe more than he just did.
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Faraeon listens in uncharacteristic silence as Ceobarn continues to negotiate a deal. When the drow mentions the "tip", something seems off to Faraeon, so he telepathically nudges Donovan--who Faraeon believed was also doing some watching and listening of his own--to point out the relevant bit of body language.
"Excellent. As they say with business opportunities... when one door closes another door opens. I'm sure we'll find this to be mutually beneficial."
Donovan and Faraeon exchange a few telepathic notes and one thing is clear. Ceobarn is clearly annoyed that Villyth acted without the house's permission, and his dismissive attitude towards her is most definitely an act. Calling him out directly on that may put him off of his negotiation A-game.
“Very well. It is true that Villyth’s actions are bad for business and she must be stopped. On behalf of House Zeizerer, I grant you twenty-four hours of diplomatic immunity. Use this time to retrieve the weapons using whatever means you deem necessary. Here’s a document that proves you’re acting on my authority. If the situation requires it, kill Villyth. But rest assured, if you abuse the power I bestow you, there will be consequences. The drow never forget.
“I know Villyth well enough to know that she has guards and other defenses. The more you know, the less likely you are to walk into a trap. So use your twenty-four hours wisely. Remember that before the time is up, you must locate the weapons, plan your heist, travel to the location, get the weapons, and most importantly, get off my planet!”
He flips through a few tabs on his personal computer and shows you a file. “As we are... business partners...” He rubs the credstick that was tucked away into his robes and continues, “I have a few informants within... our... network that may prove useful to you. In addition, the file contains my credentials for infosphere access rights on Apostae. They make make your job easier.”
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Schlak holds back his desire to roll his eyes at Ceobarn. Schlak looks over the information that is given to them on the pc.
"Alright we only got 24 hours before we leave.. We better make a game plan. I think we should ask around about Villyth and the weapons before we plan a heist. With this document we should be able to ask around the house and get a layout of the place." He looks at the party as he leans back comfortably.
He looks at Ceobarn, "Is there anyone with whom we can inquire about the layout of the house and the drow within? So we don't take up more of your time."
He holds his breath not expecting much.
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Faraeon smirks wryly, but nods to Ceobarn. "Thank you for your cooperation with the Starfinder Society, Mr. Zeizerer. We'll be glad to take care of business her on Apostae, then be on our way. Now, you mentioned some contacts we could speak with to get started. If you could direct us to them, we'll be glad to get on with our mission."
A file with names and infosphere contact IDs pops up on your personal data devices. "They generally do not meet in person but have a wealth of information at their fingertips. I recommend running any course of action you have by them for... refinement."
"As for layout, once you track down which warehouse she's stashed everything at you can try to pull building specifications, but that may take more time than you have. You will likely need to rely on your wits. I have another appointment, and you have a lot of work to do in a short time." He motions towards the door of his office, and his guards 'helpfully' escort you out.
You find yourselves out on the streets of Apostae, getting periodic dirty looks from passing Drow. You have your short list of contacts and infosphere credentials, but no real leads on where the weapons are currently being stored... and a 24-hour clock ticking before things will become an awful lot more difficult... if not impossible.