Five Rivets at a Blow

You deliver the rivet kegs to a foundry boiler shop, where gnome foreman Dabb Tinsel has invented a rapid-fire machine that drives five hull rivets in a single stroke. The foundry owner wants you to ship the machine to the Crown shipyards—but Dabb grabs your sleeve in secret. "I built that machine on my own time! Smuggle it in pieces to my sister Nell's workshop in the next region, and she'll turn it into a rapid-fire deck gun for your ship."

Two days out of port, your crew found a note tucked inside the machine's hopper from Dabb Tinsel: "I sent the steel feed pawl ahead to my sister Nell's shop behind the Crown shipyard. Without it, the five hammers won't fire a single rivet. The machine is mine." Now you've docked at the Crown yard, and the receiving clerk is waiting to inspect a working machine.

Nell Tinsel spreads her brother's smuggled machine parts across her workbench and grins. "Dabb thought he built a riveting tool, but this is a five-barrel deck gun waiting to happen. Give me until tomorrow morning." Outside, however, an armed cutter wearing the foundry owner's colors has just docked and is questioning the harbor guard about a ship carrying coal sacks.

Dabb's sister, Nell Tinsel, holds up the missing feed pawl on her workbench—a hooked steel piece no longer than a finger. "Dabb built that machine at night using his own coal, and the foundry owner is stealing the credit and the Crown payout. I'll sell you this pawl for twenty-five silver so you can finish your delivery—or strip the hopper and hammers out of that crate tonight, bring them to me, and I'll build you a rapid-fire rivet cannon."

The clerk returns with the shipyard's chief enforcer, a burly woman carrying a warrant book. "Tinsel's workshop—I know the place. I'll have that missing feed pawl by noon and lock the gnome in the yard brig. Take your ship around to the main slip and wait, captain." She sets off down the main street at a slow, heavy march.

One night wasn't enough to finish the conversion. By the second evening behind locked shutters, Nell's forge fire is dying down. "Drawing five gun barrels takes steady high heat, and I'm out of foundry coke," she says. "Two jars of sky-crystal or a fire mage could keep the forge hot—otherwise I'll have to burn my own shop furniture and hope the barrels don't warp."

The foundry agent dumps one of the coal sacks onto his cutter's deck and stares helplessly at a hundred loose gears and springs. "None of my crew knows how to reassemble this thing," he admits. "You watched Dabb strip it down. Help us put it back together on the run to the Crown shipyard an hour up the coast, and the yard master will reward you himself."

The yard master uncrates the complete machine and tests it on a scrap plate—driving five red-hot rivets in a single thunderous blow. Delighted, he turns to you. "The foundry covers your shipping fee, captain, but my yard crews are idle between ships right now. How can we repay you for bringing this in intact?"

By morning, a squat, five-barreled cannon with a top-mounted ammo hopper sits oiled and ready on Nell's workbench. She turns the crank once, punching five red-hot rivets straight into the back wall. "It won't sink a hull in one hit, but it'll shred any crew on deck. Take the Rivet Storm cannon for your ship—or let me keep the gun for Dabb, and I'll mount his rapid-feed ammo hopper on your existing Battery Deck plus pay you forty silver."