Fane:

 Inside the Wicker Goat, the survivors drag the wounded and dying inside from out of the storm.  While those who had huddled inside quiz the fighters about what had happened, others guard the door and watch at the windows, fighting the winds for sign of encroaching danger.

Lankus Kurrid, the bartender, pushes Tilliman's coin back to him.  "Not tonight, lad."  He pulls out a fresh bottle of Dwurhammer Dark Rum and begins pouring shots for those assembled at the bar, including himself.  "This one's on the house."

One of the guardsmen appears to still be clinging to life, though the other three guards and one of the dwarven commoners all seem to be lost.  

After a few minutes, the door flies open, and Captain Eliander Fireborn and six more guards enter, two of the wounded.  He quickly collects a recounting of what occurred here, and briefly relates the tale of a larger skirmish just fought near the river mouth.  A collection of town guard and volunteers fought off more than a dozen sea devils, with casualties.  For now, the danger seems to have passed, and Eliander and his guard are sweeping the town.  

The wounded and dead are collected and carried up the hill to the temple of Procan, while Captain Fireborn asks the remaining folk at the inn to shelter in place for the rest of the evening.

A watch is set, but no further sea devils threaten the inhabitants.  The storm continues to rage and blow outside, a constant background a noise and fury.

Dawn comes and finds a battered and splintered Saltmarsh.  It is still storming, but though there are grey skies in all directions, the power of the tropical storm has waned.   Gone are the gusts that could take a man off his feet.  The storm surge has retreated, taking with it some unmoored boats and leaving behind flotsam and debris in the streets and porches of the lower town.  Most of the homes and buildings facing the sea took severe storm and water damage, while you would be hard pressed to find any structure in town that didn't lose a few shingles or a shutter to the storm.  

Still, it could have been worse.  As the day comes into focus, more is learned about the attempted raid.  A force of sea devils had encroached on Saltmarsh under cover of the storm.  The main force had landed near the river mouth, apparently looking to pillage for treasure and prisoners.  They were turned back by the brave defenders of the town.  Altogether there were five deaths and another five injuries, but a score of sea devils were slain.  Survivors of the fight claim the tide turned when magic spells, attributed to the often anti-social wizard Keledek, appeared on the field, decimating the invaders.  

There are accolades too for Fane, Tilliman and the commoners who stepped up to defend the Wicker Goat, as well as Eron whose name is put forward by Tom Stoutly for his bravery in turning back those sea devils who had probed the docks.

Four days pass, as Saltmarsh picks up the pieces after the storm (which comes to be called The Bloody Gale, a name first delivered in a speech by Gellan Primewater, a local noble, to rally the townfolk).

[Congratulations!  You may all take Level 2.

Please describe how you pass the following four days in Saltmarsh?  Do Eron, Fane and Tilliman makes themselves the center of attention, looking to capitalize on their brief heroics during the storm?  Do they instead look to keep a low profile?  Do they help with the rebuilding/repair efforts?  Look for work?  Hang out at the bar?  Do they look to meet or make contact with anyone?  Set up more permanent accomodations?

Please be as detailed or as brief as you like.  Once I've heard from everyone we will pick up again after these four days have passed....]

Eron uses the four days after the ‘Bloody Gale’ to reconnect with the marines, aiding in whatever ways that he can.  If Fane is still willing Eron would love to visit Keledek to inquire about translating his journal or buying spell scrolls to potentially translate the text.

Once things are getting back to a semblance of order Eron will make it a priority to visit the families of each of his fallen marine unit members, and deliver the news of their passing.  Honoring their bravery, and crediting them for his survival.

Tilliman would have a busy four days.

He won't actively seek out the spotlight to a huge degree, but he won't shy away from any attention that's given to him for it. He may be known to "let it slip" that he is that Tilliman Toadswaddler when he's in shared company. He'll try to make a place for himself in the community, testing out the welcome at the "locals" bar, The Snapping Line. He'd certainly use the notoriety to attempt to find an introduction to the antiques collectors he was told about Gellan Primewater and/or Auerelis Johnstone. 

He'll join Eron on his visit to meet the wizard Keledek, eager to pick his brain about the influx of magic items. He would also be sure to check in on Xendros to see how their shop weathered the storm and he would definitely want to make an appearance at the weekly market (if it occurs within those four days).

In short, he'd use every resource at his disposal to continue his investigation into the magical items that have been appearing in local markets and attempting to locate whatever dig site they're coming from. On his downtime, he'd continue his never-ending study of the magical arts while putting pen to paper journaling his experiences, imagining how well his adventure narrative will help the sales of his scholarly publications.

Fane will visit Keledek with Eron and the others to see if he can help with translating his book. She will work on building a relationship with Keledek, hoping for a source of spells and magical knowledge, mutually beneficial to everyone.

Fane has always been interested in languages, knowing four herself. Back in the libraries of Celene, she had access to magic that would allow her to read all sorts of languages. Regardless of whether Keledek can help, she will throw herself into recreating the magic of reading languages until she has mastered the spell Comprehend Languages. (Unless Keledek offers a scroll, then she will scribe it, and work on learning Identify instead, as she wants both of those spells in her book eventually)

Once learned, she will offer her assistance to Eron in translating his book.

Besides her studies of magic, she will shy away from any attention, as well as having more than one drink at the bar.

She will also frequent the Faithful Quartermasters of Iuz, with Tilliman when possible, and on her own tool. Also trying to build a relationship with Xendros, though one of curious suspicion.

Are you OK with downtime rules from PHB/Xanathars?

If so, she would use her Trance to become proficient in Healer’s kit for one day and brew a potion of healing. (1 day 25 gp cost)

After that, if nothing had presented itself, she would be interested in earning some coin and learning more, but that is probably on about the fourth day, so…

[While I sort out the downtime and plot the next adventure, lets handle the meeting with Keledek, since everyone had been interested in that one.]

After the chaos of the initial aftermath of the storm resolved, Eron leads Fane and Tilliman [and Regdus if interested] to visit the tower of Saltmarsh's wizard-in-residence, Keledek.  Located on the western ridge overlooking the bay and the rivermouth, the tower makes for one of the highest points in town.  The three story stone tower has an old look to it, perhaps having once been a lighthouse or watchtower for some ancient settlement here.  At ground level, the old tower is surrounded by newer contruction, with a building appearing like a quaint summer cottage surrounding the base and adding a bit of character to the drab stone above.

After a rap on the brass door-knocker, it opens almost immediately.  From inside a deep voice, exasperated, calls out, "For the last time, stop with this... oh.  Who are you?"

A figure appears in the doorway, needing to stoop slightly to pass outside.  Standing before you on his porch stands the wizard Keledek the Unspoken... all 7 feet of him.  Tall and lanky, with a dusky, almost olive skin, the mage is both oddly handsome and sharply off-putting.  There is an alien quality to him, as if a normal man had been stretched out like taffy, all his features, from his arms to his beard, just a little too long.  He is dressed in an immaculate black silk robe and matching turban, the latter set with a red ruby the size of Tilliman's fist.

"Why do you call on Keledek?  What business brings you to my door?"

“My name is Eron Colborn, I am a friend of Eliander Firemane’s.  His renter Krag suggested you might have the knowledge to translate a foreign script I found.  Would you be willing to take a look?”

Fane gives a short bow. “Greetings Keledek, I am Fane, and Olv from Celene, recently arrived in town. I am here with my friends to see if you can help us with Eron's book. Perhaps afterward, we could talk more. I can share information regarding the land of the elves, and you can share information about Keoland and the Saltmarsh area.”

She bows again, this time much lower, the whole time, Leo, small as ever, resting on her shoulder, quiet.

The tall spellcaster looks at Eron with an incredulous eye.  "Krag?  So, this plane's most educated gravedigger has set you upon me?"  He sighs.  "That I could translate such a text, I have no doubt.  There is scarcely a script that can be put to paper which is unknown to me.  Yet, why should I devote my time to this endeavor?  My days are spent studying the minutiae of spellweaves crafted by ancient mages and sorcerers.  By night, I chart the heavens seeking to unlock the secrets of the universe itself.  And I must still find time to provide mundane navigational aids and weather predictions for the working class folk of this town.  Why does this chore of yours fall upon my doorstep?  What do you offer to make it worthy of Keledek's time?"

To Fane, he presents a far more pleasant response.  "Ah, my dear, please do not bow.  The pleasure is all mine."  He bows so deeply he almost kneels and his turban comes just shy of scraping his doorstep.  "Your idea has merit," he offers. "Of your people, I know much already, but I am sure there are treasures of information you could share with me.  I see by your beautiful familiar that you are a student of the arts... and a skilled one."

He looks back to Eron.  "Your choice of companion speaks well for you, marine.  Perhaps I can find time to look over this text of yours after all.  Fine.  For 10 golden lions - up front - I will examine this for you.  I haven't time to transcribe, but I will identify the script and communicate anything of importance I find within.  Have you a particular piece of information you seek within?  Or is this just a 'fishing expedition,' as the locals are fond to say?"

“It seems I’ll need to hunt a few more lions before I seek your service in this fishing endeavor.  Too bad usually I’d expect infernal text to elicite more interest… yet you are much too endowed with more important tasks and pursuits.”  He gives Fane a meaningful look.

Eron’s trying to persuade Keledek with the unknown contents of his journal.  (Persuasion 10)

The dusky wizard's eyes narrow in impatience at the attempted manipulation.  "Messages written in Infernal may not be half so interesting as you suspect.  The denizens of the Nine Hells are obsessively orderly, often taking down messages in triplicate.  I dare say there is likely more documentation written down in Infernal than in all the other languages combined.  Yet, for every demon's true name, or secret plan writ down in blood, there are 10,000 shopping lists, drink recipes, or postings of nightly latrine duty schedules for the legionnaires of hell."

"Whatever you hold, it is far more exciting for you than for me.  I've made a generous offer.  If it isn't to your liking... look elsewhere."

Tilliman bows and introduces himself, "Greetings, respected arcanist. I am Professor Tilliman Treewick Toadswaddler the First, a scholar in residence at the Artificers Union of the Free City of Irongate, and, like yourself, defender of the good people of Saltmarsh against the sahuigan raiders. Oh, and, perhaps you've read my treatise on the semiotics of inscriptive enchantments in ancient Olman weaponcraft..."

He waves the notion away almost as soon as he mentions. "Eh, erm... regardless, I'd come to this... erm... 'peaceful' little burg of yours investigating a matter of some er... academically valuable artifacts of a somewhat magical nature finding their way into local markets.The Artificers Union has tasked me with locating, procuring and, erm... studying these artifacts..." He clears his throat and hastens to add, "All in the name of scholarly research, of course." Lying, of course, through his teeth.

He quickly continues, "At any rate, I'm certain someone as, erm.... learned such as yourself might have recognized this sort of influx, have you not? Is there any truth to the rumors? I would appreciate it greatly if you could shed some light on the matter... might even be worth a mention in my next paper..."

He gives the wizard a wink.

"I'm afraid...".

"Yes, well...".

"Hrrmn."

The wizard tries on several occasions to get a word in with the loquacious scholar.  At last, when Tilliman winks and signals he has reached the end.... "I see.  As it happens, I have heard the same rumors as you, though my studies and obligations do not permit the free time to investigate them to my heart's content.  I would be most curious to see these items for myself and examine them thoroughly.  I would be most pleased to offer my services to you in this endeavor of yours.  Should you uncover any unusual or historically significant artifacts during your travels, please keep me in mind.  It would be a simple thing for me to assist you in identifying them."

"Now," he says, turning back to Eron, "Did you wish to leave this script with me for examination?  Or as you depart now, will you leave me empty handed?"

Eron hands over the journal.  “I may need a little time to bring back your payment.  I should be able to round up some money.”  With that Eron gives a slight bow, turns to his companions “Tillman Fane if you need me I’ll be at Marine HQ looking for some work.”

"I will continue my magical research into being able to read your book myself, in case it is of value still after Keledek is done" she says.

Tilliman lingers, completely unable to read any social cues from the wizard or his companions. "Well, I for one could certainly do for a cup of tea." He says to the wizard, completely expecting to be invited in with open arms. "We can exchange notes, as it were and I would be..." He unconsciously wiggles his fingers hungrily. "...quite curious to see your own collection of unique items."

If given the boot, Tilliman will simply shrug it off and continue his attempt to do all of the things mentioned in Post #243

Keledek smiles politely at Tilliman (showing mostly teeth) and then gently shuts the door in his face with a soft "Good evening."  Tilliman is left alone on the stoop, as Fane and Eron depart.

Downtime...

Eron:

 Fane:

 Tilliman:

Four days later, Fane, Tilliman and Eron [and Regdus, if he is around] are catching up over lunch at the Wicker Goat.  The first deep-sea fishers to get out since the storm had just come back in with a haul of sword fish, and Lankus is running a special on fresh swordfish steaks (40cp, but each comes with a free mug of ale).

As you are finishing your meals, a woman you have seen before but not formally met walks into the bar, looks over the faces inside, and then makes a beeline for your table.  

"Good, I found you.  I trust I'm not interrupting your meals?  My name is Manistred Copperlocks, of the Blacktop Copperlocks.  How pleased I am to make your acquaintance."  She is a dwarven woman, fair of appearance but more handsome than beautiful, in the dwarven way.  She looks to be of middle age, with a well-tailored business suit cut for a woman and an expensive looking pair of spectacles.  

"I am told the continued performance of our lifting crane out on the causeway is largely your doing, and for that I am grateful.  We're up against a tight schedule, and the loss of that crane would have ground our rocks, proper.  I appreciate the assist, though I know you did it for coin, not necessarily for country.  And that's alright."  She shakes each of your hands (if you're willing).  "In fact, I sought you out this afternoon because I might have another spot of work for you, if you're interested.  Might you be?"

Eron more then happily shakes hands with Manistred, “I’m more then happy to hear your proposition.  I could certainly use some funds, plus I’m happy to help wherever I can.”  Eron’s been hoping for a way to pay Keledek and find out what’s written in his mysterious journal.

Tilliman, mouth still full of food, hooks a thumb over to the others and says, "These folks are more the building type. But if you need something that requires a bit more..." He swallows. "...scholarly finesse, I'm more than happy to lend my services."

"Of course," she says, taking an unused chair at your table.  "I wouldn't expect you to accept without first hearing the terms."

She listens to Tilliman's words and nods without comment.

"As you have no doubt heard," she begins, "The Salinmoor Mining Charter Company - and as its chief executive, I myself - have been tasked with developing the mineral wealth of this province.  The King is counting on us to produce, and we have a tight schedule we need to keep to.  That means that any delay, no matter how seemingly minor, can have a disastrous impact on our bottom line.  And at the moment, I have a minor delay that is causing us some big problems."

"The two shafts we currently have running ore are located five and seven miles east of Saltmarsh, along the coast road to Seaton.  While we are establishing another mine north of town, those two are all that is producing at the moment.  Most of our miners live here in town, but for a handful that dwell at the mines themselves.  Those who live in Saltmarsh commute by foot or by cart to and from the mines each day.  All of that is fine.  Except...".

She pauses as Lankus Kurrid stops by the table to bring her a cup of Royal Reserve Whiskey, which she gladly accepts and charges to her tab.

Taking a long sip, she continues, "Except... for the alchemist's house."  She pauses again, watching your faces for reaction.  When none of you show sign of recognition, she nods, recognizing she will need to start from the beginning.  She relates the tale in its entirety, as she knows it.

Four miles east of Saltmarsh, on a bluff overlooking she sea, sits a lonely mansion.  It was built decades ago by a solitary wizard and alchemist.  This man had a sinister reputation in town, but given Keoland's general suspicion of mages in general, this is to be expected.  The townsfolk mostly shunned the house because of the occupation of the owner. He disappeared under unexplained circumstances—his body was never found.  He simply stopped receiving the weekly lot of food he purchased from the sundries store here in Saltmarsh. After several missed pick-ups and missed payments, the Town Council ordered the house searched.  Nothing was found—though over the next few years, everyone in the search party, to a man, suffered ill luck and untimely ends… if the stories told in the local bars are to be believed.

"All of that was more than 20 years ago."  She takes another long sip of whiskey.  "So why is it an issue now?  Well, this house just happens to sit right along the path to my mines.  While its admittedly a creepy looking eyesore, its never been a problem.  Sure, the locals are full to the brim with ghost stories about the place, but its a town of sailors!  Of course they're superstitious.  I count on my dwarves to be more grounded than all of that." 

"Unfortunately," she sighs, "some of my workers got the fool idea to go poking around in there a couple of tendays back.  They came running home, piss running down their legs, hollering about ghostly spirits, disembodied voices, and the walking dead.  Now, I've got grown dwarves scared to walk past the place.  Unauthorized absence from work is up 25% and I've got a dozen miners camping outside the shaft 'cause they are too frightened to walk home at night."

"This has gone from an amusing distraction to something that is seriously impacting our productivity."

With another sip, she holds the glass in the air and points to the party.  "So this is what I propose.  I would like to hire you to clear this old house out.  I highly doubt there is anything so serious as an actual haunting taking place... but on the off chance there is, I heard you lot tangled with those sea devil raiders, so I know you can take care of yourselves in a scrap."  She pushes a finger down on the table top.  "But what's more... I want you to make sure you are seen doing it.  If you accept, of course.  Once you get out there, hang out a bit until some of my miners pass by.  Then, make a big to-do, don your shields, kick the door in... you get my drift.  Make sure my folk see that someone is taking care of this.  With the way these louts gossip, by the next morning every dwarf in 50 miles will know the 'spooks' have been taken care of."

She twirls the glass in her hand, the remaining whiskey clinging to the sides and running back down in slow rivulets.  "How does 10 gold lions each sound?  Not bad for a short hike and a tour of an old ugly house, right?"

Eron listens to Manistrad’s explanation and expectations, “Whatabout curiosities and such if in fact it was a magic users home?  I would of course be happy to help with this situation, I can’t speak for my friends but we have faced some pretty challenging circumstances and survived to tell our tales.  Thank you Lady Copperlocks for your offer.”