Dreadfall Reach

The accursed archipelago known as Dreadfall Reach looms ever large on the horizon of the High Seas and in the minds of the pirates that sail them.

The Dreadfall's waters? They're as treacherous as the isles themselves. Dark clouds give cover to roving bands of heartless corsairs, their tattered sails flapping in bitter winds. Jagged waves throw themselves against broken vessels speared upon saw-toothed shoals. The air is thick with mortal decay.

Buried beneath all that nastiness lies the true face of these islands. The waters here are calm. Serene, almost. A deep silence blankets the sprawl of drowned ruins that cluster like barnacles to the barren rocks. It's quiet here, yes, but quiet's not peace.

Dreadfall Reach was once a jewel in the Dhani crown, before it was cursed with undying hunger and condemned to the abyss. Or so the legends say. And the dead are restless. Only fools brave the Reach hoping to learn its fate, only to meet their own.

The Doomed and the Drowned

Many a rum-soaked yarn makes reference to the Curse of Dreadfall Reach. While exact accounts differ, depending on the amount and flavor of grog imbibed during the telling, all agree the fate suffered by the ancient Dhani was a grim one. Cursed with undeath, their ghoulish remains still wander the halls and atriums of the submerged necropolis. Few explorers live long enough to delve into the Dreadfall's blackened heart, but those who return do so with tales of horror, and also pity. A deep melancholy weighs on them, visions of the Dhani undead and their mournful processions forever etched in their minds.

Alas, the Dhani are not the only undead to stalk the osseous caverns of the Dreadfall ruins. The ancient evil possessing Dreadfall Reach still hungers for flesh, something its many greedy visitors provide in spades. Corpses crawl out from every nook and cranny, eager to bloat the Dreadfall's morbid ranks. Those plagued with undeath are said to be thralls of Nocetes, death god of the Dhani.

Waters of Wild Death

If ancient curses, undead hordes, and bloodthirsty buccaneers weren't enough, the Dreadfall shallows swarm with schools of needle-fanged fish, all sharing a voracious appetite for flesh. Their place in the 'food' chain is rivaled by lone opportunists: boned eels slick with putrefying seaweed and kneecapper crustaceans whose foot-long pincers ensure a steady demand for peg legs back in Port Conniver. Off the coast swim bigger undead creatures: triple-finned sawmaws and moon-shaped gulpers are both common sights through a trained spyglass.

The air too, is sated with foulness. Flocks of maggot gulls greet new arrivals with gut-wrenching screams, while rotting rocs soar above with vulturine anticipation. It might be bad luck to kill a seabird, but it's the ones that can't die that'll scatter the bones.

Then Dreadfall Reach saves the best for last, and from the deep, it brings the worst. In the drowned halls, great sea beasts, and many-armed monstrosities make their lair. These undying leviathans are seldom seen by mortal eye, and of that accursed group, little accord can be reached. Many a fisher has claimed to have fought off multi-headed skeleton serpents the size of a galley, while others speak of hacking their way through the lesion-riddled tentacles of a lich-kraken. With bellies full of rum, all believe these carnivores are refugees of Teramundr, themselves prey of the even greater predators within that terrible place.