There is a land on the very edge of the world in Haven, a rather largish island. It has been rumor and legend and myth for as long as any can remember, it seems as if people have always known of its existance.

Scholars know, of course, that the island itself has been 'discovered' by various explorers over the ages, and it does feature prominantly in several fairly reliable stories, stories that can otherwise be independently verified.  Thus it has been established, quite thoroughly, to lie to the extreme west, beyond any other lands.

Maps to it, however, are extremely rare and of dubious quality. They DO exist however, created by sailors who have made the long journey for whatever reason... to bury treasure, to hide from their enemies... or even to see one of their own into the afterlife 'in style'.  The bodies of dead sailors traditionally belong to the Sea, but many come to dread that harsh mistress and yet can not bring themselves to die on land... a more direct route to the afterlife is required.

That, you see, is the only resource the Island at the Edge of the World commands, for if one travels to its very end you come to the edge of reality, where sea meets sky if one were at sea. Here, however, a great cliff, dark and lightless and barren drops down farther than any eye can see, and at the bottom is the Underworld.

The island itself is tropical, certainly. Lovely beaches, tall palm trees... but it lacks more complex life, at least at first blush. No animals seem to wander its grounds, no bird calls fill the air, even the normal stinging insects seem absent.  But as the sun goes to sleep, fat biting flies start to come out, swollen with stolen blood and hungry for more.

It is here, on this island, that the dead first come to return to life, hungry for the flesh and souls of the living to sustain themselves, hiding from the Gods. They are trapped here, unable to leave here... though the occasional passing ship may be lured ashore and taken over by the Dead.... they must always be cautious, for the Sea barely tolerates the living upon her surface... the dead she claims far more eagerly, and there is little refuge from the Sun.

Thus the Dead are trapped. While only a few souls attempt to escape, and far fewer actually succeed, over the eons they have built up a mighty presence. Hidden among the tall trees and in the low mountains a the islands 'center', cut off by the edge of reality, are crude stone temples and caverns where they hide, where they attempt to surround themselves with trappings of the lives the covet.  And at night they hunt whatever they can, even each other or the newly undead.   It is entirely possible that the very oldest of them remembers civilizations that predate even the Titans... if you dare to talk with them.


The island is quite large, requiring several days travel from the eastern coasts to the 'edge', through thick jungles heavy with underbrush and more, and eventually a day or so of travel through the mountainous part.  One might be tempted to land around the sides, closer to the 'edge'... this is possible but dangerous, as the sea and sky are both unpredictable so close to the Edge. If one actually intends to attempt to enter the underworld here, alive, then it is simply not feasable, the cliffs here are simply too smooth and treacherous.

Near the center, where most knowledgeable explorer's and mourners travel is a crude, ancient, temple to Death, where a body can lie in state for a time before making the journey, where mourners can gather. No undead will approach this temple willingly, and most refuse to even look upon it, and to enter is instant death for their kind.  Strange ineffable statues adorn the exterior walls and great stone biers line the interior walls.  There are several lamps in sconces over each bier, they are ever lit but shed no heat and their light is cold.  

It is said that several of histories greatest heroes have traveled here of their own accord at the end of their lives to lay upon the biers, to die peacefully, with none to attend them.  Thus the temple is known by some as Requiem, and by others as The House of Heroes.  Those who can see souls or spirits note that the temple is filled with ghostly forms, attendents who see to the needs of those who are about to cross over.