The One-Armed Juggler
Outside hangs a signboard that at one time displayed a tipsy Fool in motley, juggling. Some incident during the war, Darkness, or the confusion afterwards raggedly broke off a corner, and now it appears that the juggler only has one arm to keep all the balls and other items in the air. A suspiciously shaped jug sits at his feet, so sometimes the name of the establishment is shortened further to “The Jug”.
Inside… it’s calm, quiet, dim, … some might go so far as to call it shadowy. A single public area is filled with little nooks and crannies where two, three, or four, could sit for a low key talk. For real privacy. there is an almost windowless “banquet room” in the rear. When the weather turns rainy or raw a brazier gives off heat, but little light or smoke. The efficient service is provided by a number of halflings. A wide variety of drinks are available, including quality casks produced at the Red Wyrm or Golden Trident. The only food on offer are bowls of what is acknowledged to be the tastiest fish chowder in a town of fisherfolk, along with a spongey sheet of bread. There is a curious saying: If you can’t get it at Ahbay‘s, you could probably find it at the Jug. Curious because Ahbay’s patrons wouldn’t be expected to be interested in ale or fish chowder, at least in single servings.
The proprietor is Roscoe Lionheart. He rarely leaves his back room in the Jug, though he will receive a number of visitors during the day.