The Troll's Jockstrap Inn and Freehouse

[Tsu Sengai]

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Welcome to The Troll's Jockstrap
Inn and Freehouse
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The Rules of The Inn:
♦ Do not post unless you are comfortable with using present tense.
♦ Do not post unless you are comfortable with the setting.
♦ Do not post if you can't make the effort to try and spell properly.
♦ Do not fight in the Inn, the troll WILL remove you.
♦ Absolutely no god characters.
♦ Follow the Guild Rules.
♦ Follow the ToS.

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News:
♦30/09/2006♦ Finally finished re-working the descriptions to fit Athear's Realm.
♦22/02/2006♦ Moved the Inn to rest entirely inside the guild. The old inn will be removed from the public forums almost completely - just leaving the first post with information on where we moved to.
♦16/01/2006♦ Decided to link to my guild - Athear`s Realm.
♦09/01/2006♦ Finished the descriptions and opened the inn!
♦06/01/2006♦ Moved the Trolls Jockstrap to a new thread, so as to make use of the new posting styles. Began work on the first page.

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[Tsu Sengai]

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Shameless plug;
Do you ever worry that your roleplay skills aren't up to standard? Or perhaps you feel that your sentance structure seems repetitive? Well come (and welcome!) to "Tongues and Their Lore", a classroom in Xanthian dedicated to the magic of language, and the language of magic! If you just want to roleplay in this fascinating field of information, or if you truly want to learn some real lessons, come on in!

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Whitelist:
Become a regular, post exceptionally good posts, or donate to me to get on here.
♦ No-one! gonk

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Blacklist:
Be an a**, disobey the rules, refuse to alter wrong posts or bump to get on this list.
♦ No-one! blaugh

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[Tsu Sengai]

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PC Staff:
Become a player character staff member by PMing me. This means you can freely NPC the character. Maids are really unimportant, so anyone can NPC them within reason. If you're unsure, ask! idea - Means the position will be NPC'd by Tsu until someone applies.
♦Proprietor♦ Tsu Sengai
♦Bownsa Troll♦ No-one. idea
♦Bownsa Troll♦ No-one. idea

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Regulars:
Come in and roleplay regularly to get onto the regulars list.
♦ No-one! gonk

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[Tsu Sengai]

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Setting Information:
Read the descriptions below for your roleplay posts. The Troll's Jockstrap is a mangy inn on the edge of the town closest to Xanthian's Academy. It's a slightly silly place because of all the students and magic leaking from the mana springs just across the valley. Basically, this is a slightly silly roleplay, but you must obey the rules and be serious in your posts. In other words, holding a sock that's talking is okay, but roleplaying an entire random string of giggle-induced emoticon-infested gobble-de-gook as a post is not okay.

Remember, being in the center of the alliance lands, and so close to the Academy and the mana springs, this place is strange indeed, and all manner of folk come and go.

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The Valley:
A valley lies at the foot of the Academy Hill - through it runs a young mana river, fed by the local mana springs. This valley used to be known as the Mana Valley, but since the Academy was built, it is often named the Academy Valley. The nearest town to Xanthian's lies across the mana river, using a wide, green marble bridge.

These lands are the center of the alliance, and so there is a commingling of peoples, creatures, and what can only be described as 'things' here that surpasses the diversity of a major sea-port town. A few miles past the mana river lies the town of Anemore - a bustling hive of trade, politics, religion, and diversity. Few build close to the river, as they fear it warps that which remains too close, such as the Troll's Jockstrap, which lies only a few minutes walk from the bridge. The edges of the city are a sprawling mass of huts, hovels and degraded homes - they are the safety zone for ruffians, scoundrels and the poor. Within the very centre of the city, the town hall and richer homes wallow in their wide, marble-paved plazas, shaded by the dappled light of carefully manicured trees.

As you walk down the winding, tree-lined avenue that leads down the Academy's hill, a gentle breeze will bring to you the scent of magic. This smell will strengthen as you reach the wide green marble bridge and cross over the lazy flow of the young mana river, and fade only a smidgn as you walk the last ten minutes or so towards town before ducking into the Tavern's murky atmosphere. It is here that we place our tale.

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Outside the Inn:
Despite the time of day, the inn is open - from within music and revelry (but no heraldry) can be heard afar; carried on the strange air, warped by the mana until it almost shimmers and sparkles in dizzying colours on hot days.

Now and then strange beings can be seen within the Mana River, but few bother to get that close, due to their supersticious fears. On approaching the inn, it looks like any other - the usual pools of glistening or lumpy liquid line the edge of the road in the early twighlight, and a scuffle can often be heard from somewhere nearby in the darkness. During the day an odd calm settles over the place, and the troll usually naps gently on his stool. As is normal in these areas, the troll on the door has the usual tattoo of 'Bownsa' on his forehead. However, this troll has a small goblin tied around its lower regions, and wears nothing else.

Yes, you have arrived outside The Troll's Jockstrap, and the scene before you is depicted scruffily in the wooden sign squealing (much like the goblin) above you.

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Inside the Inn:
Upon first entry, the yellowish tinge to the air stings your skin, but you soon adjust. The room is murky and dark, lit in odd places with a melty candle or the glowing eyes of some strange creature.

From the door, there are two steps down to the floor that are so worn with use they are beginning to resemble a ramp. The floor is something you really shouldn't examine, because every now and then it seems to shift and change, one moment it is a dark, spittle and blood-polished wooden thing, the next it resembles a dark brown skin, moving slightly as if breathing, and then becomes floorboards again.

The bar is a long, deeply scratched but surprisingly intact thing, made from something so soaked, battered, repaired, re-repaired, rubbed, spat upon, and generally abused, that it is unidentifiable, but seems to have once been wooden. Behind the bar is a dubious assortment of bottles, mostly covered in grime and with their labels rubbed partly off. Every bottle seems to contain the same dusky yellow liquid... or is that the colour of the air? There are also a few barrels strewn about behind the bar, and a doorway leading into the kitchen.

The barkeeper is dressed in a dirty brown leather overall, reminiscent of (and worryingly as filthy as) that of a butcher. She is constantly 'polishing' a dirty glass with a grimy rag. She has a large and soggy-looking f**-end hanging from her mouth and a small dead rose in her hair that might once have been red.

There are several tables, chairs, stools, and random pieces of broken wood lying about, some are the right way up, most are on their side, or buried beneath an unconcious customer.

The walls are covered with an assortment of odd things - broken gaslamps hang forlornly from smashed fixtures here and there between posters and bits of wood, mostly broken off in brawls or stolen - animal heads peer down from above the mantle piece and occasionally give an odd sort of mangled wail. The thing that looks like a moose and a chicken crossed is the most active, watching new entrants with a violent light in its eyes and occasionally screaming at them in its warbling, hoarse voice.

The stairs are blocked off by another 'Bownsa' and yet another sits in the corner guarding the door to the common room, picking his nose with what used to be a famous brawler's sword, but is now officially 'The Troll-Pick'. There are no available exits except the front door, unless of course you like the idea of becoming troll-snax, or, if you pay for it you can enter the common room, or go upstairs to a private room. Only close 'friends' of the Barkeeper are permitted in the kitchen area - not that she is particularly sociable.

Come on in, find a dry stool, and sidle up to the bar. Please, do not touch the peanut bowl, we regard it as a friend and it will sue if you molest it.

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[Tsu Sengai]

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The Bar:
The bar is a long, dark, unidentifiable thing that has been so abused over the years that it shines as if polished, but absorbs spills greedily. It might once have been wooden, but now it prefers to just drink up spilled drinks and blood like some kind of malignant sponge.

There are a few barstools about, mostly broken or upended, some buried underneath unconscious beings. At the end of the bar, near the barkeeper, the peanut bowl sits. It watches people sullenly, and bites if touched, but is a close friend of the barkeeper - the only person she trusts to measure the worth (or trustworthyness) of coins.

The barkeeper stares silently at the mess in the bar, polishing her dirty glass with her equally filthy rag, and occasionally moving the soggy f**-end from one corner of her mouth to the other. Her overall is similar to a butcher's and seems to have the same sort of stains on it, along with a pouch that ocasionally seems to wriggle.

Behind the bar there are some shelves and barrels, the shelves are covered in dust and grime and the odd bottle, and the barrels are covered with glasses and mugs.

The main bar-room is a sprawling, dully lit area. It is crammed with bits of wood, upended furniture, unconcious beings and a few Bownsas. The walls are covered in an assortment of things, from broken gas-lamps to rather strange animal heads. The posters and other things on the walls will occasionally move around of their own accord, but that's perfectly normal here.

There is a door leading to the common room, and one leading upstairs to the private rooms, but both are guarded by Bownsas. The only other doors are the one behind the bar, which leads into the kitchen, and the entrance.

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The Common Room:
The common room is a large open area with a fireplace. It has two tiny, grime-darkened windows and the floor has simple beds strewn about. The beds are merely a stack of furs and felt, and they are all rather crumpled.

Here and there you will find people huddled into their blankets, sleeping off a nights drinking, or perhaps just staying before they continue on a journey. There are two small tables near the fireplace and these have small chairs clustered around them.

The walls are quite bare, and the fireplace is a dying display of glowing coals. It will cost you three silver to sleep in a bed in the common room, and only once you've paid will the troll stand aside to let you in.

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The Private Rooms:
The stairs are wooden and creaky, and spiral up into the upper levels of the inn. Upstairs there are more private rooms for hire.

The first floor has five doors coming off the dismal hallway - four lead into bedrooms with four person rooms, and the fifth leads into a small toilet room.
These rooms each have a grimy, barred window, four simple wooden cots piled with furs and felts, and a wash basin. There is also a chest in each room, which remains empty unless you wish to place your things in them. One of these rooms will cost you ten silver, and a meal is included in the price.

The second floor has seven doors leading off it. As before, one is a toilet room, and the other six are bedrooms.
These rooms each contain a double bed, a wash basin, a dirty, barred window, and an empty chest. The beds are piled with the best furs and felts the inn has, and each has worn curtains hung about the sides. In addition to these items, the private rooms contain a small table and a chair, and each has a mirror above the washbasin. One of these rooms costs a full gold, twice as much as a four-person room, but you can stay in it all day undisturbed and the price even includes a meal and a drink.

The toilet rooms are the same on both landings - dark little cubicles with a flushing toilet that smells consistently of urine and socks, no matter what you do to them. The toilets may once have been mint green, but are now so stained, soiled, and generally filthy that they resemble a chocolate lime that's been spat out after a few minutes sucking.

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[Tsu Sengai]

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The Kitchen:
The kitchen is a large, stone-floored room. Along one wall is a massive oven and fireplace, along the others are shelves, cuboards, and tables. Every visible surface is crowded with containers, utensils, rubbish and the odd bit of food. There is a trapdoor in the far corner which leads down into the cellar, and a heavy door along the farthest wall that leads out into the courtyard.

The room is inhabited by an old woman, whose rotund build and dark clothing gives her a remarkable resemblance to the black cauldron that hangs above the fire. She is sitting in a rocking chair, sleeping, whilst the stew in the cauldron bubbles quietly. A small dog skeleton is curled up next to the fire, still bearing a taggy leather collar about its neck vertebrae. Now and then it shifts into a more comfortable position.

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The Cellar:
The trapdoor opens to reveal a steep, rickety wooden staircase. Down the stairs is a dank, pitch black room, which has a tiny gaslamp hanging from the wall.

When the gaslamp is lit, which is rare, you can see the room is packed with barrels, sacks, tools and a heap of firewood. There is also a small wooden pallet and a table and chair, probably either for the kitchen woman or the barkeeper. The whole place stinks of damp and of mice.

Some of the sacks have had shockingly large holes gnawed in them, and are spilling their grains and other fillings out slowly. They slump forlornly against each other, against the barrels and walls. One wall has a tiny painting on it, of a man with black hair and purple eyes.

There is a piece of material on the floor that may once have been a rug, but is now so thin and mouldy that it would be best described as a stain on the stone floor.

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The Courtyard:
The courtyard is a dark little square of paved stone, ringed on all sides by the inn. Only the kitchen has access to it, though a few of the upper rooms have tiny windows that look down into it.

This is where the kitchen and cleaning staff hang washed bedidng and clothes, though what with the dampness and shadows nothing ever dries properly. Most things just drip gently for a few days, before being taken to and wrung out by a troll, and then sat on to flatten them.

There is also a large bucket and a well, with a tiny stool next to it.

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[Tsu Sengai]

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Above the bar:
Above the bar hang some scruffy, torn bits of parchment. If you inspect them closely, you can read the poorly spelled 'Pryce Liste', 'Menyew', and 'Rools', written in a scrawling, spider-like hand.

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Pryce Liste:
To staye for wun nite in the comun room, three silva or ekwivalent. Meels cost eckstra.
To staye for wun nite in a foor persun room, ten silva or ekwivalent. Meel encloodid.
To staye for wun nite in a pryvit room, wun gold or ekwivalent. Meel an drynke encloodid.

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Menyew:
Aske and yew wyll be told the meels we hav.

Beer is a haf-silva, as is ale.
Spirits wyll cost frum wun silva too moor, dipendin on the drynke in kwestiun.

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Rools:
Donut fyte in my inn, the bownsas wyll remove you.
No gods are alluwed in thys inn.
Donut damedge my pruperty, you wyll be chardged.

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[Tsu Sengai]

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Reserved.
Reserved, in case of some kind of spiffy expansion.

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[Tsu Sengai]

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Inn Status Report:
Open and awaiting customers! Come one, come all, and freely roleplay your little hearts out. (Quite literally, if you piss off the bownsas enough. twisted )

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