Bleakrock Island

A name known to most who traverse the seas of the Isles, Bleakrock is a cursed place and somewhere to be avoided at all costs. While there are many places within the Isles where it is probably best not to set foot, Bleakrock has garnered itself a particularly nasty reputation. This is partially due to its proximity to what has become a reasonably busy shipping lane, and partially due to its terrible nature.  

We arrived a few hours before night fall, and sent ashore a few crewmen to look for water and fresh food. The rest of us set about making repairs, and putting the ship to rights after the storm we just weathered. We were all glad to have found some place to rest and recover after our long journey, with still many days left to go.

— Journal of Ship's Cook Gurny Fensham

  Despite its rather grim name, the island itself looks no different to hundreds of other islands scattered about the Myriads.: Golden sands, rocky cliffs, spiky grasses and pockets of dense vegetation. It even has a small bay which allows easier access onto the island. Small clues to earlier habitation remain for those with an eye to see them, but there are no visible ruins, abandoned items, or anything else that would enlighten us as to who those inhabitants were.   Not that any of that matters, for as soon as anyone sets foot on the island their doom is sealed. It is immediately apparent that something is wrong, though it may take some folk a while to put their finger on it, the island is silent. Yes, the sound of surf and wind and sand are all as usual, but there is a distinct lack of animal life anywhere upon the island, not even birds or insects. It's as if even they know to avoid this place, or they too have fallen prey to the island's malignancy.  

Dusk was just upon us when we heard the first screams. All of us were accustomed to the many screams a man could make: pain, grief, anger, fear. But none had turned our blood to ice and our limbs to stone. They went on for several minutes, and not a one of us moved for that entire time, nor indeed for several moments after they stopped. While some of us were haunted by shame later, no one questioned the Captain when he ordered to us to immediately hoist sails and leave this forsaken place.

— Journal of Ship's Cook Gurny Fensham