Shipwrecked in Saltmarsh

Dain is very interested in the money and the idea of sailing with his kinsfolk.  He signs.

     “What did I do?” Fianna asks, offended. “What did you do?  Weren’t you the one who arranged the recovery of the bodies to help Molo?  If there’s blame for Oceanus being ambushed it’s certainly not mine to bear!”

     Fianna turns away from Katernin sharply and goes to read over the contract.  With a quick stroke of the pen she crosses out the phrase “to his approval” and changes it to “signees mutual approval” and then signs her name.

     “If you do not agree that the box we return fulfills the contract then we shall keep the down payment, the box and its contents,” Fianna states.  “If it’s not sufficient to fulfill the contract then surely you have no need of it.”

Kelnan nods at Fianna "Fair call." and signs his name with a neat flourish.

Aubreck wrinkles his brow with alarm at the crossed-out section, as though Fianna had squashed a bug on it.

"You are absolutely correct," he finally declares. "Let's write that in as a clause."

He crosses out Fianna's “signees mutual approval” and inserts “If the condition of the box does not meet said Aubreck's approval, then..." he pauses, "How did you say it so well?" He continues, "said party may keep the down payment, the box, and its contents.”

"How's that? I'm getting hungry. Who hasn't signed yet?"  He remains a gracious and good-humored host in his tone.

     "That works," Fianna agrees.  "Sorry to nitpick but I've been on the wrong end of some vague wording before..."

"Oh, me, too. Me, too," chuckles Aubreck. 

Vertheg serves a rather mediocre lunch of stew, salted fish, toasted bread, and pickled turnips. The dining room is dusty and worn, albeit with a commanding view of the bay from its high vantage point on a high bluff of waterfront  land.

Aubreck tells some stuffy and boring stories of ship racing, before hurrying you along. "Two hours. We have preparations to make. Be at Solmor's Wharf in two hours. Let's do this! I am counting on you." 

Molo hobbles off to find a place to buy a chain shirt in his size.

Dain will return to the Dwarven Anvil with haste.  "I be needing to have that conversation now, Mafera.  I be about to head out to sea for a bit, so it cannae wait till this evening.  So, tells me:  who owns the Anvil?  And would they sell it ta me?

Aubreck sends off the party with a small purse containing the 200gp down payment and a little bit of extra candy for Molo.

Dain and Molo (and anyone who wants to join them) head to the same place: the Dwarven Anvil, where the mute Jasker fits Molo with a chain shirt. The price is 50gp.

Mafera sighs. "Well, the Crown owns th' land, of course. But th' anvil and th' tools and th' business are mine. Let's just say we owe a lot of money to someone, and we need this income t' pay it off. Unless you can produce 5000 gold, I can't afford to part with it. I know that's probably more than th' business is worth."

     Fianna will cautiously return to her room.  She’ll put up for the upcoming week in case this adventure takes some time.  She doesn’t have much but she doesn’t want it tossed out due to being away an extra day.  She’ll then spend an hour to re-summon her familiar.  OctoFin is no more and instead when she meets up with the others to catch a ship she has an imp riding on her shoulder, kicking its feet, making faces at passerby. 
     “Fi’Finella may be a bit more handy,” Fianna says by way of explanation.  “New form, new name, worse attitude, but same old familiar.”

     Fi’Finella sticks her tongue out and blows a raspberry as a way of introduction, then turns invisible...

"Hmmm, five thousand gold be a lot a money.  But per'aps I can find some other investors ta come in with me.   How much does ya earn here a month?"   I wonders if I can maybe convince some of da group to invest in the forge.

"And who does ya owe?  Are they asking for too much interest?  I isnae gonna get in the way of honest business, but if they be unreasonable I can maybe go and talk them straight," he says, fingering his maul.

Mafera is clearly uncomfortable having this conversation. She lowers her voice and approaches Dain. "I can't say his name. And you don't want t' get involved with him. Let's just say if you can raise 5000 gold, th' whole operation is yours with my eternal thanks." 

“Please. I will be discrete. And he will never know you told me”. 

Mafera gives him a serious look. "I forget you're from out of town. Don't speak this aloud." She finds pen and ink an writes one word on a scrap of parchment: "Keledek". She underlines it, then crumples it and throws it in the forge. "I have an honest debt to repay. DON'T get involved." 

Just then a loud old man comes in, wearing the badge of the Saltmarsh guard. Mafera ends the conversation with Dain abruptly and tends to her customer. 

– – –
Unless you have further business at the Dwarven Anvil (Did Molo buy his chain shirt? Does anybody else need any common items made of metal?), pressed for time, Dain – and Kelnan (if he agrees) and anyone else who chooses to accompany them –  hustles over to the Faithful Quartermasters of Iuz to see Captain Xendros. She is no more friendly than she was with Fianna and Kelnan last saw her. "What?"

Molo sees Fifinella for the first time and is enthralled. 

“Wow... I love it...” At which point Molo practices making faces back and forth at the Imp.

(and yes, bought a chain shirt)

"I be getting straight to the point," Dain tells Xendros, seemingly unfazed by the strange shop or the reputation of the demigod whose name it bears.   "Does ye sell any of these:  At least a third of a dram of torpid brown ichor?  A demon's eye?  A harpy's tongue? Or a lock of vampire's hair?"

"And does ye know an elf by the name of Mindartis?"

She looks at Dain with distaste. "Ichor. Fifty gold. Two weeks."
"But we're not a butcher shop," she waves her hand dismissively. "Go hunt your own harpies."
"And I don't know any elves with that name."

The tiefling looks up from her paperwork to visually scan Dain from head to toe.

"My turn. What do you need torpid brown ichor for? You need a weapon? You a swordsman? I have a longsword you might like."
"You want to fly? Like a bat? Or breathe fire? I have things. Tell me what you're looking for."

"I be a smith an' a damn good one.  Be thinking ta make meself a magical maul.   So unless you has one fer sale, I be after ingredients for the construction."

"Magical maul..." She pauses to think for a moment. "I'm quite sure I can obtain one. Give me three weeks and 50 gold as a down payment. 250 additional gold upon delivery. You do have 300 gold in hand, don't you?" Her red eyes sparkle a little as she peers right through Dain.

Dain peers at her closely, trying to get a read...

Insight (+2):  17

Well, she seems totally honest.

"Aye, I have the money," he says.  Does I want to make this meself or buy one though?  The whole point be to show off me skills.  Nae point in buying one then.  "But I wishes ta make one meself.   So, can ye get the bits me be needing, or does I have to go look elsewhere?"