It's late summer in the year 2521 and the Empire is at peace once more, following the defeat of Surtha Lenk's army at the Battle of Mazhorod. The North suffered grievously from the depredations of the Chaos horde - the city of Wolfenburg was brutally sacked - but the invaders were routed before they could reach the heart of the Empire.

Nuln did its part, stepping up production of cannon until the casting bells were ringing constantly, day and night. Thousands of troops marched off to fight under the Emperor's command. Many did not return and there are fears that a lack of manpower will adversely affect the harvest, causing grain shortages across the Empire. In addition. Attacks by Beastmen and other minions of Chaos are still widespread across the Empire and there is a general feeling that the coming winter will be a hard one. People are mentally preparing to tightn their belts.

Through it all, however, life carries on.

Today in Nuln, the air is hot and still under the afternoon sun. There has been no rain or wind for over a week, the river level has sunk to its lowest in a decade and the city reeks of sewage, rotting waste and soot.

Okay, what are Moibus Wolfhame and Dieter Jundt doing?

Moibur had to get out of his father's house.  It was hot and his father and brothers would want him to go to the foundry with them, and it was even hotter there.  Moibur knew better to even give them the chance to corner him, and so he used the excuse that he needed to look for work.  Although his father would be disappointed, Moibur knew that his father would respect his desire to find work and do something, anything productive.

The young dwarf hit the streets of Nuln early but the heat was climbing fast, and just walking down the street after a few minutes would produce beads of sweat.  Whatever minuscule reprieve from the heat that could be found in the city was down by the river, but one had to be able to stomach the stench of the festering sewage.  However, the cheap ale prices coupled with slight relief from the heat put his feet in that direction.  

Moibur grew up in the city and knew that heat waves as this one made people edgy and angry.  He felt his anger rising when a man innocently jostled him as he walked by, but he held his tongue as he recognized its source.  He kept one eye down to beat the stinging hot rays of light, and the other eye on the those nearest to him for any erupting trouble.  He knew if the heat wave continued that it would only be a matter of time before the citizens turned on each other in pent up frustration from the unwavering heat.

After walking way too long is the rising heat, Moibur spotted a worn sign hanging over a worn building front that had a faded picture of a Great White shark with its mouth open and showing rows of sharp and bloody teeth.  The sign read 'The Angry Shark' under the faded paint.  Upon walking up to the front he could see that wooden shutters were thrown wide and the windows were big.  He walked inside and nodded a few patrons who looked up at him as he walked over to the bar and sat down on a worn wooden stool.

Moibur fussed with his beard to get it just right as the heat screwed with his meticulous grooming, but he stopped when the barkeep blurted out, "what'll it be, Beard?"

The young dwarf was about to give this man a thrashing, either verbally or physically, but then he looked up to a jovial grin from ear to ear on the man.  The man was rather large and muscular as well as bald, but he sported a rather nice beard- for a human.

Moibur's anger quickly deflated and the scowl on his face was replaced by a smile as he replied, "your best Red, please."

The barkeep nodded with an infectious and chipper smile, and took the tankard offered by Moibur as he went to pull the drink.  Moibur took the moment to look around the tavern.  It was clearly an old building and well-used over the years.  The wood had that look that only comes with age and repeated use over time.  Naturally, there were many nautical decorations hanging about the place which gave it that seaman's vibe.  The room already had a good amount of patrons; it seemed that Moibur was not the only person with a brilliant idea this morning.

The young dwarf was brought back to the bar when the barkeep spoke to him as he placed the tankard before Moibur, "I am Big Jim.  A shilling will open a tab?"

Moibur held up a finger signaling Big Jim to wait a moment as he picked up the tankard and took a drink of the Red.  He swished it around his mouth for a moment, and then smiled with satisfaction.

"Ah, good keg, it is," Moibur said with a smile, "yes, let's get a tab going, Jim."

Moibur dug into his belt pouch and pulled out a shilling and put it on the bar next to his tankard.  

Once Jim put his hand on the silver coin, Moibur said conversationally, "my name is Moibur Wolfhame, Big Jim, and it's good to meet you."

"You as well, Moibur," the man responded in kind as he walked away to serve other patrons.

Moibur returned to observing the patrons and place as he drank.

Roll to find out how dwarf-friendly the tavern is. 1=Unfriendly, 10=V.friendly.

And it's a 10!

Can you make an Int test for me, please?

There's a general friendly nodding from the other patrons. They're mostly dressed in well-worn work-clothes. They're clearly dock-workers and stevedores.

One fellow sat a few feet away lifts his tankard in greeting. "By yer accent, yer not from Nuln," he says, as a conversation opener.

Moibur turns to look at the man speaking to him and hoists his tankard in greeting as well before taking another drink.

After he wipes his beard clear with his sleeve, he says in a conversational tone, "no, I'm from Middenheim originally.  I mustered out of the service and am here visiting family.  Although, timing it with this heat wave wasn't part of the overall plan."

Spoiler

Sweet!  Rolled a 05%!

Moibus notices that the tavern is busier than one would expect for this time of day (mid-afternoon). You'd expect dockers and stevedores to be busy working down at the docks, instead of relaxing and drinking.

"Aye, this weather's a pain in the arse," his companion agrees. "So, did yer see any fightin'?"

Moibur nods affirmatively as he says in a lightly subdued tone, "aye, I got wet in the long dark of Fauchslag.  Stuck me a few Skaven down there."

"Skaven." He takes a long suck on his ale. "Fuckin' scum."

Big Jim pipes up. "We had a problem with skaven here a few years back."

"We sorted it out, though," another drinker pipes up from the other end of the bar.

"Too fuckin' right," Jim pronounces as he pours out four shots and slides them along the bar. "Fuck the skaven!"

Everyone downs their shot.

Raising his tankard from his table where he has his boots up, Marcus cries "Only thing worse then Skaven is the bloody weather!"

Having depositing a brace of fowl into the hands of a meat-merchant, Dirty Hugo has eyes only for a pint to wash the grit of the roads from his slightly slack-jawed mouth.  He heads to the first tavern he sees, which happens to have a great white shark on its shingle.  Hugo steps inside, rummages around in his pockets for coin, but is stunned to hear the occupants discoursing about skaven.

"Ratmen?  Ain't they a myth?" he asks as he sidles up the the barkeep.

Moibur downed his shot with everyone else and smiled wide as carefully put the shot glass back down onto the bar for Big Jim.  The air about the place was casual, friendly, and infectious.  Moibur decided right there that he liked the place, and Big Jim.  He nodded affirmatively when the man with his boots up commented about the oppressive heat, but turned to face the halfling at the bar with him when he heard the question about the Skaven.

"They be real, friend," Moibur says with seriousness, "lost a good friend, and a few comrades, fighting the Chaos-spawned bastards down in their wretched warrens under Ulricsburg."

The dwarf takes a drink from his tankard of ale, wipes his mouth with his sleeve, and says with a note of satisfaction, "got me three confirmed kills down there, and stuck me a a few more before our unit was pulled back topside for relief."

Dieter Jundt barges in. He's armored in battered leather and mail, and has a sword by his side and a buckler across his back, which look like they've seen recent use. He's a big guy with red hair and beard and a mean scowl on his face, and looks like the type you wouldn't want to cross in a dark alley at night.

He throws himself and his effects on a seat and bellows, "Jim, you pig fucker! I'm thirsty! A pint of the good stuff, the one you hide from the new customers!" and throws two brass coins at the counter, as he eyes the dwarf and the halfling. Having heard Hugo's question, he grins and comments, "scaring little children with your ratmen stories again, Jim?"

Quote from: Drohem;539912"They be real, friend," Moibur says with seriousness, "lost a good friend, and a few comrades, fighting the Chaos-spawned bastards down in their wretched warrens under Ulricsburg."

The dwarf takes a drink from his tankard of ale, wipes his mouth with his sleeve, and says with a note of satisfaction, "got me three confirmed kills down there, and stuck me a a few more before our unit was pulled back topside for relief."

Dieter turns to the dwarf as he says this. "Soldier, are you? What's your regiment?" He takes his mug and drinks deeply, his moustache and beard wet with ale as he puts it down with an approving roar. "Aaah, better! Blasted heat."

Moibur looks at the big man and responds loudly for all to hear with clear pride in his voice, "I served with the Fauchslag Ironbreakers!"

This is for Dieter only.

One of the patrons sat in a corner catches Dieter's eye and gives him a come-hither jerk of his head. It's Sly Rudy, a shifty fixer go-between type who's given Dieter a few jobs in the past, mostly simple "rough-'im-up" jobs.

Dieter opens his mouth and is about to ask the proud dwarf soldier something or other, when something commands his attention, and he says instead, "just a moment, if you will." And to the dwarf, with a whisper and a wink, "I happen to be a soldier of sorts meself."

After which he puts down his empty mug and walks towards his old patron, taking a seat at his table. "Rudy, you dirty old goat", he says cheerfully as he pats him in the back, beneath the mask of friendliness an ill-disguised glint of greed in his eyes. "How's business?"