Pigmote Isle
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"There is no habitation in sight, no market, very little in the way of a maintained dock. A stretch of sand thickens into damp, black earth, from which sprout stunted... Palms? Not quite: tall fungal growths with frond-like caps, as if someone sculpted the idea of a tree from a mushroom."[1] "As you step on to the quay, you hear clamour, shouts, and shooting; you can see, off in the distance, smoke rising from beyond the hill, and dots of fire flecking the horizon. Two tiny figures stand a little further down the quay."[2]
Within the the tendrils of the zee-weed and fungal fauna of the Snares, there lies an unassuming island uninhabited by men. But it is, indeed, inhabited. This is Pigmote Isle.
The Neath's Most Adorable Nation
The island has received some accidental settlers in the recent past. It appears a group of cavies - guinea pigs! - stole a ship from the docks of Fallen London and accidentally took a band of Rattus Faber with them. Floating on the Zee for an unknown amount of time in the dark (cavies are not good at sailing, you see), they were shipwrecked on Pigmote and founded a new nation.
Sadly, the Isle is in a state of civil war, fighting over the Isle's most precious artifact on the island, a piece of Blue Scintillack (the Lady's Eye or Rat Star, depending on who you ask). As of now, two nations call the Isle their home.
Hail Cavia! Kingdom of Cavies!
"The Seneschal led me to the southern side of the island, skirting the Chickenwoods. We passed through a number of raised mounds of earth mixed wih fortifying strips of mushroom flesh, which I supposed to be makeshift walls. The settlement was dazzling: this side of the island appeared to be absolutely wreathed in scintillack. The Cavies' dwelling was awash with silver phosphorescence."
The Cavies who survived the journey have currently established a kingdom on the southern half of the Isle. Pigmote's greatest treasure, scintillack, covers the area and provides the Cavies with their one true resource.
Hail Murinia! Republic of Rats!
"The Chief Engineer led me to the northern side of the island, skirting the Chickenwoods. We passed through a number of what can only be termed check-points, as fierce-eyed rats shouldered their derringers and saluted the Chief Engineer. Soon we come upon a small colony, smaller than some of the infestations I had encountered in London flats: perhaps only fifty Rattus Faber all together, working diligently to fortify their side of the island."
The Rattus Faber so unwillingly taken along by the Cavies have established a strong presence on the northern half of the island. The Rattus Faber are like any other sentient rat, and love to fix things. They have no desire to mine or trade; they simply wish to be left alone.
