[WFRP] Down and Out in Altdorf

Rain beat down on the lamp-lit streets of Altdorf, collecting in filthy puddles and soaking the boots of those few city-dwellers foolish enough to remain outdoors. In a time-worn slum of ramshackle tenements, the Laughing Goblin tavern glowed warmth and welcome.

Ragged and agitated peasants filled the tavern's eight round tables, while a pair of teenage girls hurriedly took orders and delivered drinks and food. Locals and travellers just entering warmed themselves in front of a roaring fireplace set in the center of the large, open area between tables. A band of minstrels sawed out a halfling dancing tune for the women dancing up on a long table set against the far wall. The room roared with heated discussion and drunken revelry, and smelled of burnt meat, sweat and wood smoke.

[sblock=OOC]Pop in when you've got a character sheet up! Solveig can be one of the women up on the table or not, at your option, Digger.[/sblock]

1st post!

Albrecht walked into the Laughing Goblin with a bit of apprehension. These peasants seemed just like the kind who would lynch a bailiff for just doing his job. Albrecht’s drenched cloak, empty stomach and the fetching serving girls convinced him to stay. Albrecht took quick action to hide any fact that he was in fact such a bailiff.
Flagging down one of the serving girls Albrecht goes about seeing if he can get a drink, a room and information about any nobles hiring good men.
While he waits, Albrecht will join in the revelry. Lewdly staring at both the servers and dancing girls.

Anton85 said:

Flagging down one of the serving girls Albrecht goes about seeing if he can get a drink, a room and information about any nobles hiring good men.
While he waits, Albrecht will join in the revelry. Lewdly staring at both the servers and dancing girls.

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[sblock=Gossip roll]d%=74, fail by 30. Due to the crowd's hostile reaction to your attempts to pump them for information on the nobility, you'll take a -10% on social rolls with them for the remainder of the scene.[/sblock]
Albrecht made a quick pass around the room, asking the folk if any nobles were hiring. He was met with hostility and harangues about the excesses of the noble class. About the only helpful information he got was from a toothless old wino, who remarked, sagely, that "there's always money in tax-collectin'!"

He then spoke with the innkeeper, a fat, stubbled man in his middle fifties. "Reasonable prices for reasonable a-commy-dayshins, guv. A cot in th' common room at fivepence, ten shillings for a locked private room suitin' the gennleman's privacy. Stable yer horse at tenpence a night and fivepence fer th' feed, an' a noice bath fer a silver shimmy. One o' me daughters'll take yer order o' drink an' vittles."

One of the server girls came by with a loaded up try, and the innkeeper stopped her on her way back to the kitchen. "Oi, Daisy, give th' gennleman th' offrin's."

"Yes, daddy," the girl chimed. "Ale, beer, and wine from Nuln. Harflin' pies tuppence each, an' th' gennleman's choice o' porridge an' bread or a nice thick goulash."

The door to the Laughing Goblin opens and in walks a short, stout figure clad in a soaking wet cloak. As his first actions he rolls the cloak off of him revealing a bearded face of a dwarf, and immediatily shakes his head violently to get the most of the water from his beard. The thing drawing eyes to him immediatily was a big, thick golden ring hangin from the middle of his nose. "Why's it always so durned wet on the upside!" He asks to no-one in particular as he checks the buckle on his belt and adjusts the battle-hammer hanging under it. Spotting a maid he continues "An' what's with the name o' the place. There's no goblins 'round, is there." He eyes the serving girl suspiciously as if half expecting her to say there was.

Tired of gyrating on the table, Solveig spun round once more, kicking her legs high, but allowing her flowing dress to still hide her modesty. She might dance for coin but no more! She was no whore! Although if a handsome man should come by with a well-filled purse...

When the music stopped briefly she took a deep breath and hopped down from the table. She gathered up her share of the copper coins scattered around the table and floor and headed for the bar, head down, counting the night's takings.

"Ten copper pennies. Not bad. Not ba... Ouch!"

Not paying attention she had walked into one of the newly arrived customers; a wet, skinny odd-looking man. Although his clothes were of good quality, his cloak was in tatters, he looked gaunt and hungry and there was a faint smell of...pigs?

"I'm very sorry, I didn't see you there." She said no more as she dropped to her knee to try to find a few pennies that had dropped in the collision.

Blackrat said:

"An' what's with the name o' the place. There's no goblins 'round, is there." He eyes the serving girl suspiciously as if half expecting her to say there was.

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"Er, no sir, not so far's I know, nohow!" giggled the serving girl. "Da' says it's been the name o' th' place e'er since our dear old great-great-grandda' named 'er. 'E were a soldier, 'e were! Fancy a drink, sir? Or a noice bi' o' goulash?"

[FONT=&quot]“Entirely my fault, to busy star’en at pretty girls like you. Here let me buy you a drink.”
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Albrecht orders two ales, stables his horse, and pays for a cot for the night. Albrecht carefully shells out 22 pence. While he’s ordering Albrecht double checks his purse and valuables. The girl seems nice enough, but you never can tell, and the room defiantly has some seedier people in it. [/FONT]

"Bette' nay be, or they won't be laughin' fer long." The dwarf grumbles, but at the mention of drink his mood turns up immediately. "I'll 'ave an ale. 'Ope ye 'ave some good stuff." As if oblivious to the fact that the girl would be sure to remember propably the only dwarf in the place he adds: "I'll be by tha fire."

The doors to the tavern flew open. Thunder crashed, conversations immediately ceased, and the minstrels stopped short on a sour note. All eyes turned to look at a tall, stocky man in a fur coat with a saber scar across his right cheek. He looked from left to right with rage and disdain, then stomped up to the innkeeper in a few long, confident strides. Behind him followed three skulking young men in dark green cloaks, each with his hand on the hilt of a vicious, gleaming cutlass.

"Vell, boys, look vat ve haf here!" bellowed the large man in a Kislevite accent, loud enough to be heard by the entire tavern. "Big party, yes? Plenty of money, no? Sure. So plenty money to pay for protection, right?"

"Get out o' my tavern, scum," replied the innkeeper through his clenched teeth. Flanked by his trembling daughters, the innkeeper looked up at the large Kislevite through squinted eyes, the very image of defiance. "Ye'll ne'er see a brass penny out o' me."

The thug laughed a deep, belly laugh. "A funny man is here! Look how funny! Thinkink he is veeeerry clever, yes? Thinkink he can forever not pay. But ve vill see who is most clever." He turned to one of his lackeys. "Vladilen, take de girl. Pick one you like best."

Vladilen grinned a broad, snaggle-toothed grin, and looked at the auburn-haired Daisy with dark desire. He grabbed her by the arm, and the four of them strode back toward the door.

Standing in the doorway, the thugs' boss turned back to address the innkeeper. "You t'ink you can outsmart me," he growled. "Maybe. Maybe. But I haf yet to meet one who can outsmart bullet."

As soon as the Kislevite talks about 'taking the girl' Solveig frowns and moves slowly towards the corner where her pack and weapons lie. Her own experiences have left her with strong feelings about the mistreatment of women, especially by Kislevites!

As she does so her eyes flicker across the room, searching for any other outraged looks.