On the deck of the Second Shank...
Scott tries to check the sails with his rather inconsiderable nautical knowledge. He concludes that they do not have holes in them and are shaped like one would expect sails to look like, and thus they can be confidently placed into the admittedly broad category of "good enough". With that decided, he climbs the main mast, finding that there's a pretty good view of the docks up in the crow's nest.
He spends a moment up there in the calming heights, feeling all rugged and sailor-like for a moment, ready for marine adventures the likes of which the world has never seen.
If only these schmucks would get it together so they can all go already!
Sigmund and Kevin, meanwhile, interview Justine to pursue their coldest lead yet, the dreadful rat bastard who stole their money through insidious fraud.
"He went to this one bar often, apparently. What was the name again, Sigmund?"
"The Ulubelle, I think. The guy was supposedly called Rat-Bastard Gilroy, or something like that. Or at least that was what the barkeep at the Feisty Jelly told us. That despicable piece of scum was red-haired and short, I think."
Justine considers this information.
"Still not as specific as I would like, but what the heck, I'll give it a shot."
She closes her one eye, makes a face, then opens it again.
"Something's not right. I think your information might be a bit faulty. Not that this is entirely surprising."
In Helsvar's village...
Niklas wanders off in search of adventure. Or help, whichever comes first. He eventually finds someone, a man wearing metal armor that seems to shift. The man is currently busy inhaling multicolored smoke from an unfamiliar device. He does look quite magical, though.
Underneath Wallyn's store...
Morton, not having reason to believe there might be harm in it, keeps on asking questions, which under normal circumstances would be a dangerous thing to do in an alley like this.
"Can you tell me about Wallyn's store? I've heard that he sells magical books and the like, but I admit it wasn't very descriptive, I'm afraid."
"Spellbooks, actually. The one stop for all your spellbook needs, no other store like it in at least a hundred miles from here! He even takes orders, you see, though he doesn't do proxy attunement, whatever that means. I wouldn't know the specifics of the trade, sorry. Anything else I can help with, though?"
"Actually, if you don't mind, I think you could perhaps help us as well. I'm looking for three of my friends, an odd sort, admittedly, so you'd probably know them if you saw them. I heard that they were going to a bookstore, but that was a while ago so I fear something might of happened to them. Two of them are very, ah, colorful, with a mild similarity to my finish. The third, however, is entirely composed of chairs."
"Yep, I'd certainly remember them if they strode in here. I don't, so they probably didn't."
At this point, a door opens at the far end of a nearby hall, and out strolls a middle-aged, balding man with a smug-looking, flushed face and a rather long ponytail, adjusting his robe carefully. He seems to be emitting a particular glow - not a magical one, fortunately. He comes up to the visitors.
"Hello! Who might these people be?"
The woman turns to him, smiling.
"Oh, they're here looking for your store. I told them you were busy at the moment, and they agreed to wait. Not too long, though."
"Excellent. So, what do you seek here, my... friends? A particular spell, some other thing?" he asks, looking doubtfully at Morton.