The Lazy Tankard Inn

“If you’re still breathing, you’re welcome.”

Location:

South of the Poor Quarter, nestled between two crumbling tenements near the city wall.

Overview

A leaning three-story structure of warped timber and faded green stucco, The Lazy Tankard has somehow defied both time and disaster. Though partially burned during the meteor strike and riddled with creaks and groans, the building stands like an old drunk—stubborn, listing slightly to one side, and entirely uninterested in falling.

A chipped wooden sign sways in the wind above the door, painted with the image of a half-empty tankard sloshing ale onto a sleeping man’s chest. No one's quite sure if the place was named after the clientele or if it attracted them post-facto.

Reputation

The Lazy Tankard is a neutral zone, at least in theory. All warbands, mutants, scavengers, spies, and broken nobles have passed through its doors. Violence is frowned upon—not by law, but by the barkeep’s crossbow hanging permanently above the counter.

It’s where:

Information is sold in whispers over thick stew.
Mercenaries find employment on damp message boards.
Relics (and fakes) change hands in backrooms.
And a few souls drink to forget… that they can never leave Mordheim.

Key Figures

Marla “One-Eye” Renscht – Owner and bartender. Former bounty hunter. Tougher than a Gromril nail and twice as bitter. She knows everyone and forgets nothing. Lost her eye to a Possessed, took its tongue as repayment.
“Father” Belic – A disgraced priest of Sigmar turned drunk prophet. Rants nightly about “the eyes in the well” and “Sigmar’s second hammer.” Locals take bets on when he’ll finally explode… or ascend.
Grubb – A small, mute man with a face like melted wax. Handles odd jobs, messenger work, and sometimes just sits silently in a corner polishing blades that aren’t his.

Rumors Overheard

“A Vampire was spotted upstairs last week. Paid in blood and left without a word.”
“There’s a tunnel under the hearth that leads straight into the sewers. Or worse.”
“The stew’s meat? Don’t ask.”
“Marla once served ale to a daemon host. Charged double. It paid.”