Just Anything It Doesn't Matter Settlement in Bloodmarsh Classic | World Anvil
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Just Anything It Doesn't Matter

A trading town of uncertain origins, J.A.I.D.M. is known for its thru-traffic of intercontinental sailors who often forget whether they're coming or going, and also the hard-hitting saltwater ale which is enjoyed to excess every night by every inhabitant. Gull Island's ideal placement offshore makes it a prime hub for loads of transient or returning traffic of mariners, and the town rises to the challenge with a hereunto unequaled proportion of taverns to actual dwellings.


Lowhut or Criminoid 52%, Locathah 38%, Bighornian 5%, Ettercap 3%, Goblin 2%


The town is run by a conclave of busybodies who have been, by a natural process known as the Dilbert Principle, found a way to be busy all the time without bothering anyone with actual progress. Market forces are the real ruler of Justanidoma'a, with the needs of the sailors and fishermen, and the needs of the fulfillers of their needs, being the principal cause of anything getting done. The Conclave is a place where sober people go to gripe about the rip-roaring fun of the more tradition-heeding inhabitants.

Industry & Trade

Over 1200 tons of outgoing ship trade stop off at Gull Island each month, and the mariners who man these freighters need somewhere to sleep and drink to prepare them for their long trans-oceanic voyage. Those coming in to Bloodmarsh similarly make a point of rewarding their crews with some well-earned revelry after months at sea. And so, for the outgoing and incoming, and the natives too, the town of Just Anything It Doesn't Matter has at need devised and developed a bountiful liquid crop, a golden wellspring of good spirit, to buoy its visitors on their way with rosy cheeks and lighter pockets, and to buoy them back at next opportunity. Trade, shipping, logistics, and maintenance are all carried out each morning, but everything productive grinds to a halt at the colossal tolling of the town's legendary 5:00 bells.   There's a feedback loop between the business and pleasure available in a place, and this self-reinforcing trend has flown quite out of hand for the hard-working folk of Gull Island. A complete guidebook to the different ales and spirits available only at the inns and public houses of JAIDM has never been exhaustively completed though three scholarly expeditions were attempted in hopes to catalog them. The trouble is, each expedition got less and less scholarly as time went along, as every new discovery to the field of brewology was a blow to the academic rigor of the following entry to the books, though it in no way inhibited their gleeful if unpublishable completion. It was proposed that, perhaps by taking the serviceable first chapters of the three manuscripts and cutting them together, a provisional list could be achieved, and then only the undocumented items would need to be analyzed and recorded. This edition was accomplished, but by the time the investigators made it to the little port town, they had been quite overcome by the heady prose used to describe the experience of many of the drinks already documented, and so a duplication of work still occurred which rendered this fourth study completely fruitless as well.


With the long piers reaching out into the bay which Locathah love to build as housing developments, the town is roughly half-floating and half on land. The streets all radiate away from the concave inlet where big trading ships wallow and big trading men swallow oceans of local brew.


The town offers a place for ocean-going ships to stop off for a final resupply before beginning the trek across the Interstitial. It also serves as a base of operations for various fishing, whaling, and exploratory enterprises. The island outside the port has been found almost totally uninteresting, and so has been left alone where urban sprawl has failed to devour the original wilds; for this reason, some druids or folk of a naturalistic lien often come to Gull Island on retreat.

Guilds and Factions

There are people who work in hospitality, and there are people who make booze. There are some who do both. There are some who are just passing through, and some who spend the days fishing and return each night. None of these distinctions matter to anybody, because at 5:00, everybody's your best friend and everybody's gonna buy a round. It would be intolerably incourteous to refuse.


The town was founded because it was the easiest place for mankind to take a foothold in this region, and that's not saying much. The harbor now roaring with economic vigor was originally a steep-sided cove totally unsuitable to large ships, but over the course of the first few hundred years of The Taking, dedicated locathah teams, with the help of masons of other subraces, laboriously cut into the rocky walls to form some functional ramps for cargo loading. These have been ever expanded over time, so now the town rests in a terraced amphitheater of several hundred yards' diameter, completely man-made and safe from the heavy breakers of the open ocean.


Mostly wood and straw. All quite sterile from frequent spills
Alternative Name(s)
J.A.I.D.M., Salty Beers Town, That One Place Er What Was It Called With All The Drinking, Justanidoma'a.
Inhabitant Demonym

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Cover image: by Oogalook


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