World's End is the largest and oldest of all fishing communities in Morgaard. Situated at the uppermost point of land, it faced the Northern Ocean, rich in fish, shrimp and other crustaceans.
Unlike other towns where fishing was the principal livelihood, the Enders, as the residents called themselves, did not operate in fleets, but almost entirely as individual fishermen. It wasn't because of a lack of community, but rather because of the unusual natural challenges facing the determined Enders.
World's End was situated at the end of a range of extinct volcanoes and it was built at the highest point of the rim of a submerged giant. At the edge of the bay, the rim was possibly ten feet above sea level during the highest tide. The bay upon which World's End sat was in fact the interior of an enormous volcanic crater and was considered by the residents to be bottomless at its center, where the extinct lava tube reached deep into the planet's crust.
The bay itself was rich in shrimp and smaller schooling fish and most Enders preferred fishing in its vast yet protected confines. The exit to the bay was over the extremely shallow water covering the far end of the crater, never more than five feet deep, even at high tide. The submerged rim adjacent to the Northern Ocean required boats and ships to carefully sail three miles of treacherous shallows before reaching the open sea.
This geological and oceanographic anomaly's major consequence was that it made it impossible for larger ships and deep keeled vessels to enter or leave the bay. Because of this, World's End never became a center for trade and the fishermen who lived there were forced to limit themselves to smaller shallower keeled boats if they wanted to fish the sea for larger game beyond the continental shelf. Not that this was the only challenge the adventurous sailors faced, immediately past the crater's rim, churning winds and currents collided and made any venture to the deep blue a chancy proposition.
Finally, for those still determined to escape the confines of the bay for deeper waters, oars were a mandatory safety feature, because of the proximity of Xenoth. If an unfortunate vessel was pushed too closely to the Unknown land, the sea became becalmed and completely windless. Without oars to pull the ship back into the winds, the unlucky vessel would slowly drift towards the looming landfall and its crew would be lost forever, trapped by the same spell which kept the banished souls from leaving.
The town center is located at the waterfront. Inns, saloons, and eateries line the main avenue adjacent to the city market and there is always a vibrant ebb and flow of creatures seeking food and comfort passing along the busy street.
Concertina music, fiddles, and shanties provided the colorful score of life in World's End. Jugglers, magicians, and dancers entertained those shopping at the busy fish market. The population is a mix of all creatures, some having lived here their entire lives, some running from the past or seeking new circumstances, and some, having spent their lives traveling, simply running out of land and putting down stakes.
It was a moonlit evening, cool, but not cold. Loud music and bawdy songs echoed through the street, originating from a shabby, but popular pub named The Drunken Crab. Inside the Crab, a thick layer of smoke, from three dozen pipes and hookahs, clung to the ceiling and crawled its way to the door and freedom.
It was noisy, but not overly so, with the staccato of chatter rising and falling almost in unison. Barmaids rushed from table to table, serving thirsts and hungers, but always finding a little time for happy small talk and tame flirting in order to assure a larger tip from the predominantly male clientele.
The customers, for the most part, were of the standard tough fisherman stock, weasels, stoats, rats, and otters. Some of the patrons did stand out though. There were three Lokian wolves with dirty white fur, filed black teeth, and elaborate tattooing, making them fearsome sights.
In one dark corner of the pub, a table was filled with four dangerous looking rats, three males and a female, dressed in the garb of privateers, the polite term for pirates. They wore battered bright colored silk blouses and velvet topcoats. Rings filled their fingers and ears and their bodies were covered in swirling tattoos. Each carried a cutlass or short ax tucked into their broad silk sashes.
They laughed loudly and guzzled ale, occasionally lashing out wildly with their tri-corner hats at one another if a particular insult was too personal or a particular criticism too true. The serving girls deftly avoided their lecherous lunges and ignored their crude remarks while continuing to deliver food and drink to their customers.
The patrons whose food they carried were an unusual group in themselves. The two stoats at the table, portly and unkempt, wore silly grins and seemed in many ways like any other fisherman.
The ferret, to whose story they were intently listening, was well dressed and groomed, a handsome beast with striking green eyes, but it was not his bearing or dress which set him apart. His right paw was missing, and in its place, a beautiful moving metallic paw, decorated with gold and silver, moved swiftly to accentuate the highlights of the story he told.
The oddest thing about this particular table, however, were the two other guests. They were moles and they were listening intently and smiling as well. One was of an average size, but the other was enormous, three times the size of his companion.
Zian the ferret looked at his friends and continued his tale, a story of the Khalisian war, where he and his stoat friends had been bitter enemies of the moles and were seeking to destroy them for Khalis.
"... and when he looked in my eyes, I knew I couldn't kill him, cost me my paw...," he displayed his metal appendage, "but I got a nice one in return."
The big mole chuckled, "It was the least Oi could do, you saved me twoice..."
"I still can't believe it was you," Zian smiled and looked purposely pensive. He scratched his chin, "does it count as saving your life if I didn't know it was you?"
The mole clapped the ferret heartily on the back, "Oi'm still here, so yes, Zian, it counts."
Winky, the bigger of the two stoats chimed in.
"Zian saved me an' Groggs too. He got us passes so we coulds leave before da battle started, probably we wouldsa been kilt."
"Dats right Lord Egbert, Zian's a right fine guy. A saint, kinda."
Zian blushed and Egbert broke out in laughter, adding, "Maybe not a complete saint, he did give me this.." The big mole ran his digging claw along a long scar which ran from just over his right eye all the way down his snout.
The younger smaller mole, Wilbur, chuckled, "It makes you look dashing Eggy, da girls really like it."
"Loiar, shame on you nephew, teasing your poor old uncle loike that." He turned to Zian, "So can you and your friends take us fishing, Oi've always wanted to give it a troi."
"I don't see why not.."
"Big or little?" Winky interrupted.
"What, big or little what?" Wilbur asked.
"Fish"
"Big," Wilbur said boldly, "definitely big."
"You know dat means goin' out to sea, outta da bay?" Groggs asked.
"Is that a problem?" Egbert inquired.
"Not really, we does it all da time, but youse got to be extra careful, it's a lot more work than fishin' in da bay, but if youse wants big fishies, dats where dey live." Groggs said with conviction.
"He's right, nothing but small fry in the bay." Zian confirmed.
"It's settled then," Eggy smiled, "tomorrow morning, these moles go fishing in the great big broiny deep."
Two hours before dawn, the two moles were awakened after groggy protests and the five companions wolfed down a hearty breakfast Winky had cooked. It would be a long sail and row to the open sea.
Everyone gathered, checked their fishing gear and with a weary enthusiasm, made their way to Zian's boat at the waterfront. The vessel was typical of local watercraft, what some might call a dhow.
It measured thirty feet from stem to stern with a single vertical mast with swiveling lateen sail, that is, triangular as opposed to square, about two thirds of the way toward the front of the boat and extending past the prow.
In the center of the deck, a large crank allowed the centerboard to be raised in order to avoid being grounded on the final leg of the trip over the outer crater rim. The hull itself was very flat and without the centerboard extended, would require a lowering of the sail to avoid capsizing.
From the moment the centerboard was raised to the moment it was again lowered, only the oars would provide propulsion. Zian's boat was named the Lily after his wife, who was spending the season with her mother in Minga, on the western coast.
The tired and yawning crew made their way on board. Winky and Groggs manned the crank and Zian, with Wilbur's help, set the sails. The young mole had never been to sea before, but was an accomplished sailor none the less. The moles of Gleneden were land-sailors, skimming over the Plains of Mist on vessels outfitted with massive billowing sails, similar to the ocean going variety except, of course, for the wheels used on the Plains, and the blades used to skim across the ice of the Northern Glacier.
Egbert, not as enamored with nautical tasks, slumped happily in the prow, watching his four friends scurrying about like ants.
"That's it, keep up the good work," he chided while stifling a yawn, "Oi dearly loike watching beasts working hard. Wake me when you're ready."
He was hit squarely in the snout by a soggy sponge launched at him by his nephew.
"Mutiny!" The big mole shouted as he tossed the sponge back at Wilbur, who ducked as the projectile skimmed over his head and square into Groggs' face. A melee of sponges, rags, and fish parts ensued with everyone finally collapsing in a laughing, wet, smelly heap on the deck.
After collecting themselves, final preparations and checks were made and Zian announced,
"We're set, raise anchor, hoist the sails and make for the sea!"
The little craft moved slowly at first, but gradually picked up speed, tacking in a zigzag manner. The wind gradually shifted to a northern direction, the sails filled and the Lily was soon speeding true north at an exhilarating rate.
The crater bay was ten miles in diameter and still fairly empty this early in the morning. The five erstwhile sailors stood smiling, with the wind in their fur and the anticipation of an exciting fishing trip in their hearts as the shanties, piers, and boats of World's End receded swiftly behind them.