The Kettle - a Pub

Close to Blackstone campus, tucked into a little alley in a slightly run down part of town, there is a bar which caters to those students who prefer to avoid the haunts of the Greek-letter set. Housed in an old brick building, the Kettle is not terribly conspicuous or particularly appealing, but it has its own sort of charm. An old, hand-carved wooden sign hangs above the door, shaped like an old-fasioned, cauldron-like soup pot.

The Kettle is not a flashy night-club, or a polished-brass-and-ferns bar. It's a simple, college-town dive, with rough, scarred wooden panelling, high coffered tin ceilings, and a pine-board floor. Incandescent lamps hang sparsely between huge, slow-spinning, dusty ceiling fans, making the Kettle cozily dim. A long, well-polished bar runs along one wall. True to the establishment's name, there is invariably a crock-pot of chili or savory stew simmering on a back shelf, nominally for a dollar a bowl, but Lauren isn't about to let anyone starve. Opposite it are booths. In the back are a few tables with chairs around them, a pool-table, a pinball machine, and a small stage. Near the front door is a bulletin-board crowded with notices for part-time work, apartments for rent or sub-lease, lost dogs and up-coming musical events. There is room enough, and a few unused thumbtacks, for you to post your own message.

The Kettle is owned and run by Lauren Locksley, whose amazonian build and no-nonsense attitude obviate any need for a bouncer. Fae of the county will recognize her as Lorloch Sytrisdattir, the Countess' formidable castlethane. Although a haven of sorts for Lorloch, the Kettle is by no means a Freehold. It is in and of the mortal world, and fae who visit here are expected to uphold the Right of Ignorance, hiding their true natures from the bar's mortal town & gown patrons.

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