While the main story delves into the ancient origins of Siren Isle, further exploration of the zone reveals a much more recent mystery. Dotted across the island are rather obvious remnants of a Kul Tiran settlement, left entirely abandoned by whoever might have built them. Their inhabitants have long since vanished, but a few tomes left behind offer some answers as to their exploits on Siren Isle.
Mysterious Tattered Journal
The most notable of these tomes is found not in the abandoned Kul Tiran settlement, but in the Forgotten Vault from our initial journey to uncover the island’s mysteries. Sat next to the same corpse that carried Cyrce’s Circlet is a tattered journal with missing pages. In our ever-present curiosity, we bring the journal back to camp to see if we can find a way to restore it.
Our quest brings us to Stellin Verasa, who tasks us with exploring Siren Isle to uncover its missing pages. Upon doing so, we’re faced with another conundrum: the order of the pages. In order to best determine how to assemble the scattered pieces of the journal, Stellin requests we ask around camp to see the thoughts of our various allies. They’re unfortunately not able to give many concrete answers, but they all resonate with the distinct feeling of death and unrest lingering upon its pages.
In order to find answers, we decide that it would be best to give the author what peace we can, and opt to place the journal at the graveyard in the Kul Tiran settlement. As we do, a citrine memory of its author appears, giving us a gracious bow before fading away.
With the lingering unrest of the journal laid to rest, Stellin gives us her transcribed copy of the journal, and speculates on why its author managed to end up where he did in the vrykul vault. The book offers many answers, but not all it seems.
I ain’t trying to claim I’ll be any good at this, but I promised my beloved Esther I would try, bless her heart. I never really put pen to paper before, but now’s as good a time as any I suppose. ‘It’ll help you sort your thoughts while out at sea’ she said. Ah, I hope she’s doing well an’ those gulls aren’t given’ her too much of a bother.
As it stands, I’ve been gone for months an’ I hope after this last shipment we’ll be headed home. These Ashvane are a tough lot, an’ I’m not sure it was a right good idea to help them on this venture, but here we are.
-en my job to reassure the crew, and I understand the doubt but we’ve been paid hefty coin for this venture. My mates are some of the best on the seas and if anyone can get these Ashvane where they want to go it’s my crew. Still I feel uneasy trying to find this isle. Even if there is that azermite or whatever rock out there. I don’t reckon it’s worth the risk, what with all the stories. But mayhaps I should be more like Minnow; they were givin’n me an’ Lesa a hard time for be’n ‘superstitious old fogies’. That got a good laugh outta the crew. I reckon Minnow ain’t more than a decade younger than Lesa, and you should have seen the face Lesa made. It had Minnow runn’n for the mast!
-s fair skies for such a strange place. For such a small isle, it’s covered in a dense forest. Even from the boat I don’t think any wind rustles through those trees. It seems to me like the whole isle is holding its breath, but for what I couldn’t say.
—
We went to set anchor in the sheltered bay on the leeward side but was greeted by a graveyard of other ships. An ill omen to be sure, and none too friendly for docking. We managed to navigate to the windward side and as promised we landed her on the beach head with the other ship-
<A watery stain has blurred much of the ink together.>
-scout reported back- wells of azerite they say! We began offloading the supplies and chopping the timbers. A bit sad to see the trees fall, but that’s the price of progress I suppose. One o’ the Overseers…Katya I think her name was, began planning a railway type system to get from the azerite to the ships so we don’t have to haul it all on our backs. A right smart lass she is, but a bit mean too. Seems to be the way with these Ashvane folk, but I shouldn’t be casting stones as Esther would say.
There’s something right unnatural about this isle. Even as the forest starts to thin, still seems to me that things are too still. The flying beasts even seem to keep their distance, unless one o’ those Ashvane get too close. Unfortunately we’ve lost a few of them that way. At least the krolusks are manageable, but even they seem to have a certain wariness and intelligence about them I ain’t ever seen in the ones back in Boralus. It’s a bit unnerving to have one o’ them stare you down with those glinting eyes in the night. Just…watching…waiting it seems like. I ain’t never seen The Duke so on edge. I’ve suggested we place scouts, an’ the Ashvane seemed to agree thank the seas.
<A large ink smudge covers the next few sentences.>
-starting to wonder if the old tales about this place were true. Minnow was out yesterday and said they spotted sirens off the shore. Not a huge surprise given the name of this place, but similar to the other creatures they seem more wary of us. With the other wildlife acting the way it does, it’s down right eerie…almost like they’re waiting for something…
Told them, I did. Something about this place just ain’t right. Las night Wiggans came running over all in a huff about some golden man or some such. Them Ashvane reckoned he’s taken leave of his senses, but I believe him. I’ve know Wiggins for years an he ain’t a coward, an he’s the least superstitious of us. If he saw something then there’s something out there…
<Blotches in various parts of the page make it hard to read.>
-e lost so many in the storm- plucked right off the deck. Crawled right up out of the ocean an’ up the boats they did. Terrors I haven’t seen the likes of before- crabs as big as the hull, giant serpent-like bugs – and the wailing! If I wasn’t convince this isle is bad news, I certainly believe now.
-ast smashed to pieces by the storm! Came outta nowhere, an my poor Maiden’s Wh-
-reckons we should repair with what little we have. Most of the timbers are ruined an there is precious little on this island we can get to that’s not near those flying beasts. The railway timbers aren’t seaworthy so there’s no options left. Still, Lesa has the right of it. If we have enough to repair the other ship th-
<The rest of the page is illegible.>
-even know where to begin. With the fallout of the storm not only did we have to cannibalize my dear Maiden’s Whisper, but with all the azerite there ain’t enough space for us all to go back on the one remaining vessel. And with another storm on the horizon we…drew lots. I was one of the unlucky ones ‘selected’ to stay behind and help mine the small lot of azerite that’s left. Most of the crew decided to go, but bless their hearts Wiggins, Lesa and Minnow all stayed. The Duke too. “We’ll be back fer ya” they say. I…wish I could believe that to be true.
Esther give me strength.
<It seems like a fair amount of time has passed between entries.>
Been mining for what feels like ages. We even used what timbers we had to build a makeshift living space for those of us left. Seemed a better idea to chance it with them -what did that Ashvane call’em… wyverns I think- than down near the shores when the storm rolls in. We even repurposed the crow’s nest up on Tempest’s Crest to watch for the return ship. Nothing yet though…
The longer we stay on this forsaken isle the more strained things seem to be getting between us and the remaining Ashvane. Had to break up several fights over the last few days, an that brute Fently only seems to fan the flames. Even The Duke doesn’t seem to like’em an’ that’s a telling sign to me. Still, they’re-
<Dirt makes the next entry hard to read, along with shaky handwriting.>
-happened so fast. One minute I’m swinging a pickaxe, next a giant rock hand crushes the poor Ashvane bloke next to me. A monstrosity like I never seen before… and made of Azerite no less! Killed over half the people we had left before we backed it into that cave. The Overseer’s quick thinking is all that saved the rest of us what with the explosives we threw at it. Caved in the mound on it, seas take it. There are less than a handful of us left now. Thank the sea Minnow, Wiggins and Lesa made it out safe. Dunno what I’d do without ’em at this point…
-buried. Not much left, but it felt wrong not to have anything. Spirits are at an all-time low it seems-
-gone. They’re all GONE. I was up in the the sleeping quarters making the lunch since it was my turn and- there was this loud bang or screech or-
<The sentence seems to trail off.>
I… don’t know. They are all gone. Like they were never here to begin with. I must have ran over this entire island looking for them. I… put some stakes out back in the graveyard just in case but, they can’t just have just…disappeared. That doesn’t make any sense. Even all their bags and tools are still there an-
-to leave. Can’t stay. The isle is coming for me next.
The Duke ran off when the bang happened. Ain’t seen him since. I can’t go back. Found a cave on the windward side of Tempest’s Crest. Running outta supplies to write with.
I must survive. The ship will be here soon.
Krolusks are prowl’n outside. Ate one yesterday, and I can feel their eyes watching me.
Duke is gone. The crew is gone. Everyone is gone.
And I-
-but the song. I can near hear it now. When I sleep it’s louder. It’s calling, a sweet gentle song, just like Esther would sing. The isle itself-
-find it I will. followed the song and dug till my hands bled-
-ond it. A door-
-ories were true- all of them…
<The rest of the page is illegible and covered in a dark stain.>
It seems our author began to hear the song of the Siren Crystal after the sudden disappearance of the rest of his Kul Tiran compatriots, and set out towards the Forgotten Vault to find it. It is there that we seemingly find his corpse, the very one that started this journey of discovery. A sad end to his tale, and one that offers as many questions as it does answers.
Mouldy Sea Ledger
The tattered journal isn’t the only piece of story we can find in the abandoned Kul TIran settlement. Placed in its central building beside an ominous painting of a siren, the Mouldy Sea Ledger contains a warning to any who might read about the luring song of Siren Isle that many in our camp have begun to hear.
Beware her call,
the Siren’s Call!
A wail of dread and pain.
Seek not her ring,
that calling ring!
Near shores of shipwrecks bane.
Beware her song,
the Siren’s Song!
A veil of tidal spite.
Walk not those shores,
those blood-spilled shores!
As dark as starless nights.
Beware her cry,
the Siren’s Cry!
A tale of woe and guile.
Claim not her ring,
Oh, Cyrce’s ring!
Beware the Siren Isle!
While the superstitions of the Kul Tirans attribute the songs of the region to sirens, the truth of that call was the song of the Siren Crystal that the ancient vrykul once worshipped. That very call was the one that the author of the Tattered Journal heard in his final days, that led him down into the vrykul vault to his ultimate demise.
Scholars of the Sea: Siren Isle Synopsis
On the top floor of the same building as the Mouldy Sea Ledger, we can find a book explaining the history behind the Kul Tiran’s beliefs
Since the age of the First Tide, we tidesages have chronicled the many islands dotting the open seas.
Among them is the Siren Isle.
How we first found the isle is disputed amongst our scholars.
Some records claim the first tidesages discovered it by chance during our early voyages at sea.
Others claim that legends of an isle with a haunting call were passed down from our ancestors and prompted our tidesages to search for it.
Whatever the truth may be, a dense fog of mystery has long clung to that dreaded place.
Though the isle has borne many names throughout our chronicles, the first recorded instance of the name “Siren Isle” dates back over two thousand years in the compendium of Sister Galeopa.
Early sea-song’s attributed the “haunting call” to the alluring song of the sirens that lurked in the shallows around the isle.
Early records also suggest that it was not only our ancestors who heard the siren’s song but other seafaring races as indicated by the nearby shipwreck debris.
The name “Siren Isle” took root in the legend “Cyrce and the Ring.”
Although the story (and sea shanties it inspired) have evolved over time, the core legend tells of a great Siren who led many to their deaths with her alluring voice and her enchanted ring.
Although the island’s namesake derives from the various legends of Cyrce and the sirens found in its waters, the nature of the sirens and their connection to the isle remains a mystery.
In several separate historical accounts, expedition survivors have reported a strange absence in the siren population on the isle even as the wailing cry persisted on the wind.
Even more curiously, during many of these same expeditions, a devastating storm rolled across the island and laid waste to our ships.
It was only by the grace of the Tidemother and the power of our sea priests that what few survivors remained were able to walk away from such a tempest.
Did the sirens foresee the arrival of the storm? Did the haunting call, somehow, prelude the tempest?
The relentless storms of the isle that have long puzzled our Tidesages.
The tales of sirens, wailing screams, and spectral figures have fueled sea-shanties and children’s stories alike.
The Siren Isle stands as an enigma of malice, mystery and misfortune for those who brave the open seas.
Any seafarer worth their salt knows to steer clear of a siren’s song, but the call of the Siren Isle is unlike any other.
Due to the volatile nature and history of the island, it has long been counseled that all Kul Tiran vessels steer clear of the Siren Isle.
For those who choose to forgo this advisement, may the Tidemother grant you swift passage.
Additional excerpts from Sister Galeopa’s Compendium and other Siren Isle records cna be found within the monastery archives.
While our time on Siren Isle has taught us the truths of these many mysteries, from Cyrce’s identity as an iron vrykul to the true source of the song that permeates its shores, the superstitions and half-truths of races like the Kul Tirans took root long before we discovered those revelations. Without the full answers to mysteries like the sudden disappearance of their recent expedition, it is likely that those tales will persist for quite some time, but at least they make for good stories.
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