Mordecai Ashburn

Landlord

Barrel-chested, grey-streaked hair pulled back, a scar from ear to jaw that he claims was a bar fight. Twenty years behind this bar, twenty years before that with a mercenary company. Mordecai notices everything. He doesn't care what you do, as long as you don't do it in his common room. Keeps a cudgel behind the bar. Has never had to use it twice on the same person.

Bessa Thornwall

Barmaid & Bookkeeper

Stocky, capable, reddish-brown hair in a practical bun, ink-stained fingers from doing the accounts. Bessa runs the practical side of the Jaw: orders, money, staffing. She has a talent for remembering faces and what they were drinking three visits ago. Carries a short knife on her belt that she uses equally for cutting cheese and discouraging wandering hands.

Old Harken

The Fixture

Wiry, white-bearded, permanently installed in the corner seat by the fire with a half-pint of mild. Retired Purple Dragon sergeant. He's been drinking here since before Mordecai bought the place. He dozes, he mutters, he occasionally says something extraordinarily sharp and then pretends he was talking to himself. Buy him a proper drink (not the mild) and he'll talk about things beneath this city that most folk have forgotten.