Welcome to the Island…
“They must have put something into your food last night. The last thing you remember was eating your weak gruel in your small cage barely big enough to sit up straight in, surround by other unlucky souls bound for the gods know where. The first thing you notice after coming to is the sound of the pounding surf. Followed quickly by the course feel of sand on your face and the cool lapping of water on your feet. Opening your eyes it takes you a moment to adjust to the bright morning sun pounding down on you. You are on a beach. No question now, those bastards have exiled you to Isolation Island!
You slowly stand on weak legs that have barely moved for the past 2 weeks after you were stuffed in the hold that stinking ship and look around. Ahead of you is a daunting wall of green, behind is the endless blue of the ocean. You think you might have caught a glimpse of a distant sail as it disappears over the horizon but that could just be your mind playing tricks on you. You do see the broken hulls and masts of several vessels poking out of the sea. They must have been torn apart by the reefs that surround the island, only the Imperial Prison Ship navigators know the way through that maze of death.
You turn your attention to up and down the beach. Golden sand separates the blue ocean and the green jungle. In one direction is the skeleton of a once proud ship not to far from shore. You would guess that it is uncovered when the tide goes out. In the other direction, in the far distance you can see what appears to be the stone walls of an old sea fort sticking out of the jungle on a bluff overlooking the ocean.
The jungle looks thick and lush. Hard to move through and easy to hide in. It will definitely slow you down and you could stumble right past a sleeping dragon and never even know it was there. Occasionally the sounds of unseen birds and unknown animals burst from its thick folds. No path through that thick wall of green is immediately apparent. The faint shapes of far off mountains can be seen, smoke rises lazily from the tallest of the great peaks. Closer, although deceptively far away, and directly ahead of you great green covered hills rise out of the jungle.
You look down at yourself. You are wearing the same rough prison pants, shirt and sandals that you were issued when imprisoned. You don’t seem to have anything in your pockets. Those bastards didn’t even leave you any food or water when they dropped you off.“