The tavern called “The blue lute” does not accept goblins as guests. Baxxink knew this and had fastened his false facial hair well before he'd pushed open the door. The tavern itself was rather unimaginative, as wayside taverns goes. Made all in wood, it looked as if it hadn't been properly looked after for many years. Inside was one big room for eating, drinking and dancing. A raised platform in the farthest end where a lonely harp player plink-plonked out a tune, some empty space between him and the two rows of tables. Each table was round and made by thick wood, looking heavy. Around every table were a couple of stools, three or four at most of them. There were some visitors in there already, huddled around the tables with pints of beer or plates of food in front of them. None of them were of much interest to Baxxink yet.

On the closest wall was a door, and by the smell of it only two things could be on the other side, a mound of trash or the kitchen. A fat human in his fourties, dressed in a stained apron came into the big room as he heard the outer door open. His fat mouth opened to speak, but Baxxink cut him off.
“Hello govenor! A round of pints for me and my mates, eh?” He said.