(IC) We be Jammin' (5e PBP)


(OOC) Jammin' Chat Thread
(RG) Jammers Rogues' Gallery

Light of Xaryxis
(Fitz's version)


Ambalon is a small planet far removed from the greater picture. Its climate is pleasant, with summer and spring dominating the seasons and a small but diverse population of sentients have seen the usual cycles of war, peace, and trade, and have the typical problems of social inequality, civil unrest, and political intrigue. Most recently has been an era of high adventure. But their place in the multiverse remains unknown to all but the wisest sages, eldest dragons, and the occasional outsider.

Today is market day in the picturesque seaside town of Kingsport. Fishmongers pack their fish, clams, and squid in ice (created by elementalists) to keep them fresh and hawkers sell colourful fabrics, tapestries, clothes, spices, glasswares, pottery, and much much more. The weather is warm, but with a sea breeze to keep it pleasant. The particular market that you have found yourself in on this day runs up a steep hill, to a stone archway that separates the market ward from a business district. Downhill, the street splits eastward and westward as it travels around a block dominated by a tavern, a glassblower's, and a bakery.

OOC: Feel free to introduce your character with a descriptive post and give me a general sense of what you're up to today in this street market.
I think you might be in Captain Sartell's backpack (more on her later) while she's shopping, but if you want to hop out, while no one has seen a plasmoid, this isn't the kind of town that lynches weird creatures for no reason.
Last edited:

log in or register to remove this ad

Snarf Zagyg

Notorious Liquefactionist
Brother Phlox stands impassively in the market of Kingsport, his mask hiding his ever-searching eyes. His implacable and unyielding stature causes most people of the market to overlook him, as if he wasn't there ... a true shadow despite his robes. But Phlox knows that whenever his presence is registered, whether its the sights of his encased body or the slightly sweet smell that accompanies him, unease spreads. My results are needed, even if my actions are not loved.

Phlox kept an ever-watchful eye for the mark of Incabulous. Today he was not on any specific mission, but simply had been dispatched as a senior agent from the Plague House to watch the port for any signs of outbreak- and what better place to do so than the market? In truth, this was his favorite job. Even while staying ever-vigilant to ensure Kingsport remained free of the ravages of pestilence, Phlox could marvel at the kaleidoscope of colors and smell, the riot of languages that the market provided. This was not the barren and stark monastery that he had lived his entire life in, but a window into another world, both frightening and tempting at the same time.

Phlox continued to scan the crowd, slightly tightening his grip on his staff and hoping that, perhaps, some call to action or demand for the immediate excising of a carrier of Incabulous would break this wistful reverie.


“Not there, you laggard! Put the ice over there, by the blasted cod!” Gunther shouted at dockworker. “Damn hard getting any decent help these days,” he muttered.

Ten years. Ten beautiful, blissful years since Gunther retired and opened Gunney’s fish market. How he loved the fish. Not just the cod, for which he was known for. Flounder, rockfish, squid, octopus, crabs - he loved them all. Each one had a story - this he knew. Just like all the clansmen and women he served with during the Goblin War. Like the fish, each had served a Purpose.

Gunther breathed in deeply the salty air. Some didn’t like the docks. Thought they smelled or were uncouth. Bah. They didn’t know. They didn’t know the peace of that smell. The promise of the open ocean. And the fish…always, the fish.

Her crew was gone. Delphnee had to just face facts she was once again alone. She leaned against a wall in the plaza contemplating petty theft. She should be above that she thought. But the last B&E job had killed Tomad, Rhyna, and Porj. She had gotten away unscathed and that bothered her. She thought about leaving the city. It was literally the only place she had known. She realized her fingers were rubbing the stone set in the earring in left ear. It felt warm and oddly comforting, as if someone else once rubbed the stone similarly in the before time.

The before time. That was what she referred to the time before she lost her memory. Maybe a year ago she found herself here with no memory of how she had gotten here or where she had come from. When she tranced she could clearly see a stand of trees that were nowhere to be found in the city, she had looked everywhere. But that was about all she could see that was from the past.

The marketplace was bustling. She was thinking she should just drown her sorrows at an inn. She had some coin and safe place to sleep. Maybe memory of her crew would disappear one morning.


As Phlox watched the crowd, a woman in comfortable leathers took her backpack off near a dwarven fishmonger's cart. She undid the toggle, and let out a small green humanoid creature that looked as if it were made of some sort of custard. Phlox had never seen nor heard of anything of the sort, but this was a bustling port with people coming from all over the place, so it wasn't impossible that he'd missed tell of it. The creature stretched as if happy to no longer be cooped up, and its limbs went quite a bit further than was natural for its shape.

The woman turned to the fishmonger, a dwarf, and said, "I'll have six pounds of your soft shelled crab, if you please."

Gunther turned from berating his useless assistant when the woman spoke. She was wearing a rapier that looked like it had seen use, and though she wore no obvious sign of rank, Gunther knew from her bearing that she was a ship's officer - a Captain, or at least a first mate.

Delphnee had noticed none of this, lost in her own thoughts, but she listened to a brassworker who was selling pots, talking to a nearby fruitseller. The brassworker said, "Bullmark the smith, I tell ya. 'Ee says it fell raight through the roof of 'is shop. Rung the anvil an' knocked it over. But 'ee couldn't find it coz it burried isself inna dirt."

Kobold Stew

Last Guy in the Airlock
Coming to the market meant coming to the city, and that wasn't something Sanderson did often. With his long neck, he gazed down on much of the crowd milling about, and with his scaly hide, many of the marketgoers were content to maintain some space. Nevertheless, the smells were overpowering. This many people in one place always created smells that seemed odd to the lizard, smells that could be burned from his nostrils if he had his way.

Of those that had been hatched in his clutch, 318 moons ago now, Sanderson was one of only six that had survived to adulthood, and he was the only one who had ever travelled far enough to encounter a human habitation (which is how he considered Kingsport), and so to encounter this particular smell. He had spent enough among humans and other species that he felt he could travel with familiar comfort through these streets.

He had commissioned the golden acorn two months previous, and was pleased with the craftsman's finished product when he saw it. He paid with some small diamonds he had saved up, and he wondered when he would get more. YOu could never have enough diamonds in your pouch, his clutch-nurse had always said. Though it was small, the delicate workmanship was much finer than what he himself would have fashioned, and he took some pride in feeling its shape beneath his belt, where he would keep it for ready access.

Soon he would return to the forest, following the coastline until he would no longer be seeing the regular traffic of ships to and from the harbour. Before he left, though, he would buy some of the deepwater fish that might be for sale. He or his siblings could always capture what was within the lagoon, swimming on the landward side of the reef, but coming home with something exotic from beyond the reef would be a welcome treat, if he could pack it back.


Gunther knuckled his forehead. "Six pounds of the finest soft shell crab in all of Kingsport, aye ma'am. That'll be two pieces of Kingsport gold." Turning his head, he growled at his assistant, Selby. "You heard the lady, lad. Six pounds of our freshest catch. Just pulled the cages this morning."

Gunther spared a glance at the officer's backpack and small green creature. Satisfied it wasn't a threat to his goods, he then turned to help Selby fill two sacks with the purple and blue crabs. Once bagged, Gunther plunked the crabs on the scales in full view of the woman. "Six pounds, as ye asked," he intoned. Pausing, he then added while sparing another glance at the elastic humanoid, "Might I ask which port you hailed from?"


"I don't think you've likely heard of it. It's a small... island. Far from here." she said, producing two gold coins that were slightly heavier in weight than a King's piece, and were stamped with the head of a human that looked regal enough, but unlike anyone who had ruled Kingsport. The letters were formed similarly enough to what he was used to that he could tell they said Prince Andru of Bral but the date stamp made no sense at all, not by human nor dwarven reckoning. The image on the other side was of a ship, that somehow also slightly resembled a flying fish.

Sanderson's head popped up instinctively as a flock of sea-birds flew overhead making a racket. Sanderson was used to trusting the smaller animals to show signs of trouble and he stood stiffly, tasting the air. It was not unusual for sea-birds to fly toward the sea, of course, but something seemed to have troubled them. There was a mineral taste in the air that Sanderson could not place. But there did not seem to be any threats nearby.
Last edited:


Possibly a Idiot.
The small green creature crawled out of the backpack and stretched to get a membrane full of the local air. "Breathe Free or Die!" was one of the crew's mottos, and all too often the meaning was literal.

Normally, the plasmoid would spring out at the first sign of hostility to protect the Captain. But in this case, she just needed the extra storage room. Glau had been serving her for years, ever since they first split off. Granted, that wasn't a terribly long time ago, as attested by the ooze's size. But their life has been full, visiting all kinds of ports, and getting into more kinds of danger. At least this port seemed civil enough. The people were just staring and not screaming, like the port on the other side of the planet. What what were the locals calling them there? "Green Slime?" How rude, plasmoids have far more consistency than that a mere slime!

Pushing the sour encounter aside in their mind, Glau extended their pusdopod and took the backpack from the Capitan. When there isn't any skulls to crack, the muscle has to do the heavy lifting.


The elk strode through the streets of Kingsport with the same smooth grace it did through the forest. It knew it was magnificent regardless of the setting, and thus paid very little attention to such things. A large rabbit sat on its back, anxiously chewing a piece of straw while staring at a list.

"This here's the last name on my list. Most of the others was dead, hope it ain't too late for these ones too." He sighed and tucked the letter into his armor. The armor was almost green from all the kinds of moss and lichen growing on it, bits of old dark metal visible here and there, as was the shield he carried. His sword was cleaner and his guitar was cleaner still. "Kingsport's changed since I was here last. Used to be a tavern over there, think I got thrown out of it once in my wayward youth. I don't think I know my around anymore." The elk bore this news as easily it did its rider and carried on.

William stood and peered around the market, keeping an eye out for a vendor who looked literate. He pointed toward the first one he found and the elk headed toward them. "'scuse me, but I've been gone a long time and I'm looking for a friend. Could you tell me where I could find someone on this here list? I got some coin if that'd help loosen your tongue...". William leaned over to hand them the letter.

Remove ads


Remove ads

Upcoming Releases