Western Isles Wiki

"*Off the edge of the map lie the Western Isles, a group of islands far from the nestled comfort of civilization. No mapmaker that has dared to brave these lands has come back alive, leaving them shrouded in a mist of legend. Scholars can’t agree on the details, and so it falls to the poets to weave stories of the unknown land.*
*You’ve heard tales of the Western Isles, everyone has; stories of great heroes gone mad, ancient civilizations long-ruined, and treasure guarded by horrifying monsters. While no two songs spin quite same tale, they all agree on one fact alone: the Isles are filled to bursting with danger, a danger that’s ended every attempt to tame their wild heart.*

*Recently, however, the Empire issued a decree stating that any individual who travels to the Western Isles shall receive a parcel of land along with free aid and assistance in settling the territory. You, for reasons of your own, decided to take up the Empire’s offer and travel to the Isles. You left home some time ago, crossing the Empire on the way to the coast, before boarding a ship to the make the week-long journey across the sea.*

*Reaching the Isles, you find yourself standing outside the sole outpost of civilization: a seaside inn called the Last Chance. It’s a ramshackle, sprawling building, all uneven stories and jutting rooms that seem to sway slightly in the coastal breeze. Once inside, you discover the grim truth: the “parcel of land” is naught but a bunk and box, and the “aid and assistance” so generously offered is a half loaf of bread, lump of dry cheese, and mug of watery beer per diem. Enough to live on, probably, but nothing more. There are a handful of weathered soldiers - and a few strangers - that all live at the inn, too, but none of them stray farther than a league out at most. The resigned soldiers all tell you that nobody that ventures out into the wilds lives more than a day, and you’d be a fool to try to follow them. Staring out at the yawning pine forests and wide stony beaches surrounding the Inn, you’re inclined to believe them.*

*The Innkeeper of the Last Chance, however, clues you in to a slightly different story: Nearly a hundred years ago, she explains, there were some folk that went out and lived to tell the tale. Not all of them made it back, certainly, but the ones that did were laden with priceless treasure and wondrous tales. These successes in turn inspired more adventurers to go out and earn their own riches and win their own songs. For a time, the Last Chance was the home of a band of successful adventurers, and was the launching point for many stories told ‘round the fire. They even had a table, a big oaken one, that they carved a map into, so you could feel every hill, river, and wood from here all the way out to Three Swords, whatever that is. At least, the Innkeeper explains, that’s what they used to say, back when they were still around and she was but a mere girl. She sighs as she finishes talking, a wistful look in her eyes.*

*As you stare around the taproom of the Last Chance, you see other folk like you - folk that’ve gotten by using their own wit and skill. In that moment, each of you is coming to the same realization: there may still be tales to be told and treasure to be plundered, here, at the edge of the world."*

― Western Isles Narrative Introduction