Neit enjoyed fawning over Taldi for a few short bursts, particularly whenever other Shebali seemed fit to scowl in their direction. It was fun making Drow so jealous so easily, as cheap nobodies as they might have been. She figured that the Talders was probably enjoying it too, at any rate.
She didn't feel particularly like any of the men Taldi presented to her had it coming to them, but was more willing to simply take them on and decide who to let go latter, rather than explain all of her twisted ideas in detail.
The witch knew undercommon. Hell, she could communicate directly from brain to brain. But she still spoke Drow, just to see what the dirty sub-Drow things would do.
"Well aren'te you a pretty bunche." She leant over and smiled, with a falsely warm tone. Her hands were behind her back, and she spoke as if she was speaking nothing but admiration. "I want someone to carry some poison for me, into the mouth of a very alive and very pissed off dragon."
"Sorry, did you understande thate? I am zo awfule sometimes, I swear..." The language turned to undercommon, slow and sweet, in a way that most people would have found impossible for the inherently grunt-and-slur filled language. The childish, ditzy demeanour was totally unlike how she had been acting minutes before, more like a useless rich bimbo, rather than a maniacal and sombre telepath. "The mean ladyee wanted to do away with you bute I stopped her, see. I jus' couldn' bear the thoughte, no. You wante to do thate favour for me? You were listenin', wern'te you? Oh, dear, no, don'te be scared. I really am the worst... Whate did I tell you a... again?..."
"Apologies, mistress, we do not understand your language." One of them said meekly, while Taldi continued to glare at the slaves. "Boys're dumb." She said in Drow, 'helpfully'. "We will do whatever it is our master asks us to do."
"How boring." Neit remarked simply, dropping the act on the spot. She spoke in undercommon, even through she was looking at Taldi now. "Simply rememberin' some lines and pumpin' oute the righte answers means nothin'... It's kinda insultin', even."
Her mind wasn't made up, but Taldi had certainly provided the goods most Drow would have been fine with. So she figured she'd probally end up buying from her just not to come across as a bitch, more than anything. Taldi was both hot and not a massive pain in the ass to be around.
"But I guess they are pretty good. How much do you want for them, sweetness?"
She produced a fist full of small narcotics pouches and a mess of crumpled-up notes, easily somewere past the 600 GP mark.
The shebali woman smiled at Neit's attention and at being able to sell the slaves. She looked at Neit's offerings, her face scrunching up into what Neitar had come to recognize as Taldi's 'thinking face'.
"Mmm... uh.... um.... these. Yes. These." She ended up claiming 150 GP worth of hard drugs. "Discount for beautiful jabress of Inthuul." Taldi explained with a smile. "You ever need slaves, you come to Taldi." A big grin. "I'll hook you up." A wink.
"I'll ask for somethin' more pricey next time, I promise." She beamed a smile back and gave a small nod. "I juste don't like relyin' on the dirty animals for all my every-day stuffe, you know? I can wash myself. I can put my own clothes on. I'm not two."
"You get any withe freaky non-magic gifts, or like ten arms, or juste really weird lookin', you tell me before cuttin' em up, through, okay?" She didn't want to start smooching up to the slaver infront of the inbred human-things, that was a bit gross. But she did scrunch up her outfit a bit more and intentionally make it fit slighly less well. "You get me thate sorta stuff, and I can starte givin' you more than juste cash. You get me, Taldi, sweatheart?"
"This is the inn thate I am stayin' at." She handed over a small note. "Please get them transported to the pens there. Next few days are gonna be a little... busy... but I can't promise I won't swing by and surprise you."
Blowing Taldi a kiss, she then unceremoniously left in search of a poison merchant. Specifically, one that knew their way around the nostrils and taste buds of a dragon...
Taldi gave a big grin. "'Course, lovely jabress. Won't forget. And don't you go forgettin' Taldi either, hear. You need to get in touch, jus' ask 'round. I'm kinda a big deal. Shouldn't be too hard to get in touch with me."
Poking around, Neitar eventually found her way to one of the city's numerous alchemists who specialized in poison. The production of poison was, of course, one of the most lucrative and steady jobs a alchemist could find for themselves in Drow society.
The alchemist in question was a c'rintri woman from one of the local houses. She was educated back at Laelda'uren and her house was one of the ones that had thrown its lot in with the Faernsenger during the current 'disagreement.' She wore little more than a thong, more for the peace of mind of her customers, paranoid women who would worry where she might conceal poison, than out of a desire to show off.
"Something odorless and tasteless?" She mused. "Well, the latter will be relatively simple. But the former is a problem. Plus making it work in the first place. Do you have any idea how efficient a Dragon's digestive system?" She frowned. "I can do it, of course," she said proudly, "but it won't be cheap. At all. How big is the Dragon, and when do you need it by? Oh, and, of course, what sort of Dragon we talkin' 'bout here?"
"A young adulte. Red. As soon as is conviente." Neit responded simply. She wasn't trying to be rude, but was taking an immense interest in looking through the alchemist's wares herself. So much of it was created for incredibly specific circumstances. Incredibly specific deaths. It was very neat and practical, yet showing of the poisoner's own personal dedication. Neit really respected that sort of thing. "Please name your standard price, and we can talk aboute ite, deary."
"Lolth's tits. Do you have any idea what the stomach of a Red Dragon is like? Like a fucking furnace, that's what." The alchemist gave an annoyed sigh. "2,000 GP. I can promise you he won't smell it, taste it, or just burn it up in his gut, but I can't promise you he won't magically detect it, or just shrug it off because he's an unnaturally tough fucker."
"Woulde some kinda magic-based ice explosive work insteade?" Neit asked, completely misslaying a warm little smile and a shake of the hips. Totally chilled, with her hands behind her back, it really was like she was shopping for candy. "Not that 2000GP isn't agreeable. Juste maybe wante something a little more... effective, I guess."
"-as I'm sure you can appreciate."
She paused, apparently thinking it over, before responding. "I don't think you will be able to trick a Dragon into eating a bomb. And even if you did, I'm not sure the inside of a Dragon would have the right gasses to complete the formula and activate the liquid ice. No."