Last Man's Isle

Days away from even the sight of any landmass worth a name rests a small island, one that any sailor worth their salt will never see, and will never hope to. Only a handful of firsthand accounts exist of the island, and many are tinged with rumor and regret. No more than a mile across, the isle is uncannily symmetrical, like so few things in nature are, and is sparsely populated with small, gnarled trees amidst the grass and sandy soil. At it's center resides a small wooden hut, weathered and worn by the sea air, unseen from the sea. Were it that, the island would not be worth the breath to speak about; it's tales come from the stories of those who have landed upon it and returned. The land is laced with a powerful enchantment that makes all creatures impossible to perceive to anyone but themselves. Upon stepping on the soft, even shore, every man becomes the last man in the world.
There is a story of Last Man's Isle told on the deck of the Siren's Song on evenings when the liquor flows freely, a tale of a former castaway who landed upon the island and returned. He tells the tale of how him and his companions lost their vessel in a storm, saving themselves from the sinking ship in one of the life boats. Upon seeing the shore of the island, they set towards it, eager for dry land and warmth away from the frigid seas. The storyteller was the first to make landfall, and he turned towards his companions to cheer, only to find himself alone. Worried, he set forth to find his missing compatriots, only to find a small hut, and not a soul anywhere. Wandering in, he discovered signs of life; dishes where food was eaten recently, mess left about, but no occupant. By pure chance, he stumbled upon a rune carved into the wall, causing a swatch of the floor to start gliding downwards, silently. After the descent, he found himself in a labyrinth of stone rooms, of various sizes and descriptions, ranging from a small privy to an underground farm complete with artificial sun to a massive library. Exploring further, the castaway saw signs that began to worry him; laboratories with strange vials and liquids, a furnace choked with foul smelling ash, and a room entirely coated in sigils of a worrying shade of ruddy brown. The last straw, however, was an operating room, with tools floating in midair, as blood seeped from an unseen source. Panic getting the better of him, he fled, retracing his steps, returning to the raft that he and his party arrived on, and fled. To this day, he always confesses, he cannot leave behind the impression that he left his friends to die, if they weren't already dead.

Purpose / Function

The hut, and the entire island that houses it, were made to provide the ultimate isolation for a wizard that rejected all other life in pursuit of peace and knowledge in every way possible. The enchantment ensures that the wizard will never be bothered unless they specifically desire subjects, as they have some way of being able to perceive the "guests" on the island at their discretion. The lair sprawls underground, containing everything the wizard could need for as long as they can keep themselves alive, and everything needed to do so.

Alterations

The island itself was crafted via magic by the mysterious wizard, with every feature carefully placed and cultivated. The very roots of the trees that populate the isle's surface form the runes that create the illusion of total solitude, and the landmass's perfectly circular shape focuses the effect in a magic circle. Beneath the entire area of the island is a maze of rooms, excavated magically, with walls transmuted to sturdy rock, enchantments and engineering providing light and oxygen throughout the lair. Many of the systems are automated via conjured servants unseen, animated objects, or enchantments, such as maintenance and the underground hydroponics bay.

Architecture

Every piece of the island perceivable from the surface has a deliberately generic, unassuming appearance, as if it were any other island housing a castaway. The only exception are the gnarled trees forming the runes, but even those could be justified away by the strong sea wind having warped them. Underground, however, the masquerade falls apart, with the aesthetic of utility and ease of creation above all else: everything in geometric patterns, carved from smooth, grey stone.

History

No one knows when the wizard first created the island, or even the identity of the creator, as it is so far away from any semblance of civilization that accurate data is impossible. However, as far as anyone can gather, the first stories of an island where everyone is alone began cropping up in small sailing circles roughly two hundred years ago, but never being told quite enough to go far from the ships were they were told.

Alternative Names

The Island of the Lonely, The Lost Isle, The Hermit's Land

Type

Lair