A Business Proposal

by Alex Aguilar-Thomson

Jerrick Burninghammer knocked on the door, then drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped whatever sticky substance had rubbed off on his hand. Fish guts, his perceptive nose suggested. Fish guts, sweat, and blood… Gods, what a vile place, this is…
“Who stands there?” someone asked, followed by a snort and the sound of a dagger being drawn.
The Leonin sighed. “Jerrick Burninghammer stands here.”
His voice did not carry the air of confidence it often did.
Truth be told, he’d dreaded showing his face around here.
He felt Redfell was beneath him. A wretched city, where the scum of the earth is allowed to roam freely among the populace. Despite being in the harbor, where only humans were allowed to wander, Jerrick’s nose caught a whiff of the smells radiating from the Tieflings’ quarter. It disgusted him. Furthermore, he was wary of any human he spoke to that day, casting dispel magic so as to make sure he wasn’t dealing with one of those redskins in disguise.
The door opened, but there was nobody there.
Yet Jerrick’s feline eyes caught the shadows lurking in that dark storage room.
Let’s get this over with, he sighed, stepping inside.
“Well, well, well… Cursed be my eyes. Another Burninghammer, walking through my door?!” the suave voice carried a hint of resentment with it. “Oh, honey, sweetie, baby, this must be my lucky day…”
Jerrick grimaced. He knew only the man’s reputation, not the man himself. A ‘sleazy scumbag’, he’d heard his father and uncles call him, on numerous occasions. What would they think, Jerrick? What would they say if they knew you were standing in this very room right now?
“Tsk tsk. What a downgrade, this is. I take it business has been less than fruitful, eh, Fain?” Jerrick chuckled, refusing to take a seat on any of the assorted chairs in the room, most of which looked stolen and half of which appeared to be eaten up by termites.
“Sadly, yes,” Fain stood up from behind the desk – or what could pass for a desk. “Y’know, I have your baby cousin to thank for that. How’s he doing by the way?”
“Hell, if I know. I’m not his bloody caretaker,” Jerrick grunted, wary of the other shadows lurking in that storage room. He spotted two of them – A grizzled man, smoking a pipe in a corner, and a short-statured figure hanging upside down from the rafters. I could handle three foes at once, Jerrick told himself. If they were stupid enough to try and attack a Burninghammer…
One could never be too careful with men like Fain the Broker – cowardly as he might be, he had allies in many places, allies who were just as money-hungry and twice as deadly.
“Oh, don’t mind him. That’s Americus. He’s on his smoke break,” Fain smirked. The grizzled man said nothing; truth be told, he’d been quite sour with Fain for months and had even considered cutting ties with him due to his mishaps, which had recently brought more trouble than profits.
“Why so tense, now? Jerrick, baby, relax,” Fain the Broker approached him – he still wore black & white attire, proudly indicating to the world that even though he had been fired from Strixhaven, he was still a Silverquill alumnus. “I ain’t seen anyone so tense ever since my buddy up there got kicked off the Gruul clan.”
Jerrick winced as the figure hanging from the rafters vanished suddenly into thin air, leaving behind a small cloud of smoke. A tiny bat flapped down towards them, circling Jerrick first before morphing back into his humanoid form, landing on top of the desk to make himself taller.
“Holy shit, ye look jus’ like ‘im,” Grux snorted, malice lurking behind his drooling smile. “Ye look jus’ like the rich boy that done took my head. I wonder if ye taste like ‘im, too…”
Jerrick Burninghammer took no chances. His palms lit up like torches and he held his fists up at the ready. The flames danced around his scaled knuckles – golden flakes, just like the rest of his family, except his scales did not match his fur, for he’d inherited the albino Leonin trait from his father.
“Pshhh. Y’think I’m scared off by a lil fire?” Grux got ready to pounce as he let out a nasty chuckle; Jerrick noticed the sharp fangs peeking out from under the upper lip. “Wha’ a cute little kitty…”
Suddenly, Fain stepped in front of the goblin like a shield, just as Jerrick felt his feet being secured to the floorboards by a black blob of ink with a face.
“Shhhh, easy, fellas. If you gon’ rumble, best to do it outside. Not in here,” said the Broker. “In here, we act civilized, dammit! We’re businessmen. Have some class.”
Jerrick lowered his fists first, killing the flames. Then, Grux hid his fangs and eased up on his stance. “Sorry… Been quite thirsty recently. Can’t help mah self. Y’understand.” The goblin proceeded to drink from a flask, which contained – if Jerrick’s nose didn’t fool him – coconut water.
“Good, good. Let’s hold onto that rage. Save it for later, yeah?” Fain chuckled with amusement. “Now… Jerrick Burninghammer, it is a pleasure to be in your presence. What the hell can I do for you?”
Jerrick took a step back, as the Inkling let go of his feet and crawled slowly up Fain’s legs and torso. “I’m here to make a deal with you,” the Leonin gritted his teeth, knowing damn well that his family would disapprove of what he was about to do. “I know you have connections in most major cities in Arcavios.”
“Well, so do you, baby. You’re a goddamn Burninghammer. Why d’you need me for?”
“Because… I don’t need my family’s connections. I need yours, Fain. I’m… Looking for someone.”
“Ahh… I see,” Fain grinned like a madman.
“I am looking for Brida Blackwell… My wife,” Jerrick sighed. “She disappeared the night of the Winter Gala.”
“Y’mean the night the Oriq crashed the party?”
“That’s the one… Only, I suspect the Oriq had nothing to do with it.”
“Ahh… Unhappy wife, I take it? Trouble in the bedroom?”
Jerrick tightened his jaw, smoke radiating from his palms.
“Relax. Relax. I’m yankin’ your chain,” Fain chuckled, the Inkling wrapping around his neck like a scarf. “So, she ran off & you want me to help you find her, huh?”
“I don’t think she just ran off,” Jerrick shook his head. “I suspect… The F Squad had something to do with it.”
From the corner of the room, the grizzled man that Fain had called Americus began coughing his lungs out – he put out the pipe, sat up straight, and looked attentively at the Leonin. “You don’t say…”
“She’d been writing letters to one of the gardeners. A Tabaxi named Samwell. The night before she disappeared, she ran off to hide in the F Squad’s suite, just around the same time I caught two of the scoundrels chatting with Samwell in the gardens. The next day, Brida and Samwell had both vanished. It doesn’t take a Quandrix to put two and two together.”
“No, it does not,” Fain sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that, boy. Women, amirite? Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em. I got a sad sack of my own, only she and I have a special arrangement. Anyhow… You make a very interesting case for yourself. I feel almost inclined to help you.”
Jerrick raised an eyebrow. “Almost…?”
“Well…” Fain began to pace the room. “No good deed comes free of charge, sweetie. If you want Fain’s help, it’s gonna cost you…”
Jerrick sighed. Knowing what he did about the Burninghammer Vault, he knew he had to tread carefully when it came to financial matters. “What is it you want?” he asked. And Fain responded with something like a squeal, like an excited child who’d just been told his allowance had doubled for the week.
“Well, it just so happens that you came to the right place, baby… Y’see, all of us in this room have been screwed over by this F Squad, in one way or another. Hell, in several ways. To start with, one of ‘em robbed me of a special paint I’d just gotten in stock. Refused to pay for it, too. Few months later, I lost my job because of your cousin. And Grux here? He was owed some money, but when he went to the F Squad to collect peacefully, y’know what they did? They killed his sorry ass.”
“Pfft!” Grux snorted. “Not only that. I got kicked off the Gruul clan ‘cause of ‘em! I was leadin’ the damn thing, too. Then they came ‘round and started puttin’ ideas on my people’s heads about how to handle vampirics.”
“That ain’t a word,” said Fain.
“Bitch, neither is ‘ain’t’, but that don’t stop ye!”
“Anyway… See Americus over there? He was screwed over by them, too. By the Tiefling girl and her friends. Hell, even this poor little guy,” Fain caressed the Inkling’s wet chin. “Poor guy was abandoned by his owner – also a member of the F Squad.”
Jerrick nodded. He let go of some of the anger and disgust. Much like Fain said, he felt he’d come to the proper place. Let’s just hope his price is not outrageous…
“Now… I’m perfectly willing to help you out, baby. But if you want a back-scratch, you gotta be willing to scratch mine.”
Jerrick rolled his eyes. Will you stop talking out of your arse and get to the point?
“We was just plotting something. The lot of us,” Fain took a seat behind his desk again, making himself comfortable. “Speaking of people who have been screwed over by the F Squad… My contacts tell me there’s a prisoner being transported to Rundlestrom Prison as we speak. A particular Quandrix Dean. She had the audacity to try and assassinate the good Captain last year… Dare I even say who stopped her? Tsk tsk… Of course, she was an Oriq. And I don’t particularly like to tangle myself in Oriq business. Too messy for my taste. You gotta use the system to move on up in the world, not destroy it. You feel me? Anyway… Last I heard, she was shunned by the Oriq. Their leader? Captain Murgaxor Grenshel, he calls himself… He’s mighty pissed off at her failures. Some even say she’s on his death list, now… I have the suspicion that she might be in need of some friends…”
Jerrick pondered on it. He’d read about the entire ordeal in the Strixhaven Star, and had even discussed it with his uncles in length. The Oriq were trouble and he knew it. But having one of them on their side? Particularly one with so much knowledge to share? Particularly one with a vendetta against this F Squad? That was a deal far too enticing to resist…
“What say you, then?” Fain chuckled. “You help us interrupt that caravan, break a nice lady out of prison, and we help you find your lost bride… Hell, if you want, you can even join us in getting some revenge against this… F Squad… What say you?”
Jerrick adjusted his tie, much like he’d seen his father do right before signing a business proposal. Only, there was no form to sign in this situation. Just the word of a crooked man.
“Very well,” the Leonin raised his golden-flaked palm up for a handshake. “You’ve got yourselves a deal…”

This event occurs in the summer of 4466, unbeknownst to our valiant heroes, who are on break between their first and second years at Strixhaven.

Cast

Reveal

Jerrick Burninghammer

Arrogant cousin to Griff

Fain, The Broker

Recently-fired head of janitorial services at Strixhaven

Americus Emmeraund

Racist owner of a shipping business in Redfell

Grux

Vampiric goblin and recently-deposed head of the Gruul Clan

Location

Redfell

A mostly-human city known for being exceptionally anti-tiefling. Where Mistake is from.