'Here I am,' you think.

You are Valerie, an intrepid young woman with an adventurous streak and a taste for danger. After downing a few ales in the port-city of Rustil, you overheard a band of unsavoury pirates mention a so-called Island of Domination. Normally, you'd be inclined to ignore such talk as the addled talk of drunken sailors, but the way they had hushed their voices and spoken of the place in such reverence caught your attention.

A few leads later, you had secured passage on a ship traveling through the waters this island was alleged to exist in. After a midnight bribe to the coxswain, you were rowing the ship's leaky old longboat through an ominous and pervasive mist, guided only by a tattered map of dubious authenticity and the flickering light of a lantern.

To your relief, the map proved to be worth its cost as a deserted beach broke the uniform blanket of fog after what seemed like an aeon of rowing. Wading ashore with your gear, you sought out a rock or tree with which to moor the boat, only to discover the leaky old vessel had disappeared! 'The rope must have snapped,' you thought, 'or perhaps the bloody thing finally sunk.' Whatever the reason, any hope of returning to civilisation must now rest somewhere upon the island.

'Here I am,' you think. Strangely, most of the fog seems to have lifted and you can get a better sense of your surroundings. The beach has an undeniably creepy edge to it thanks to the long, deceptive shadows cast by the pale light of the moon. Your lantern provides a thin line of defense against the encroaching darkness, but only seems to deepen the inky shadows cast by craggy rocks and jetsam washed ashore by ships from decades past.

The nocturnal cry of some avian creature brings your attention to the treeline not far from where you stand. Thick, cloying tropical trees droop menacingly, concealing whatever lies within amidst tangled foliage. You don't see any other way inland, since the beach eventually turns into unforgiving cliff-sides in either direction.

You take stock of your inventory: The lantern, of course, along with the faded map which brought you here. You have a small length of rope from the longboat, as well as a basic set of survival supplies: water, rations, flint and steel, a few knives and various other odds and ends which you're sure you'll need. Naturally, no adventuress goes far without her sword, and yours dangles reassuringly at your hip, slung low amidst many sturdy belts. Your garb is worn and rugged but certainly serviceable; soft leather overlaid with a tougher cuirass and tassets.

It wouldn't do to overly burden your figure with armour, though -- you've stuck with the simple leathers chiefly on account of making you look good, not that you need much help there. Although no buxom beauty, you've got a trim, athletic form honed by your craft (which mostly involves raiding dungeons and fending off goblins), and your leathers accent your slender curves nicely. A medium-length shag of red hair completes the look of a daring adventuress quite capable of fending for herself, or so you hope at least.

Now you need to figure out what to do. You see two options: Explore the tropical forest ahead, or try to find shelter and wait until dawn.