Owen McCoy is the speaker of the lower chamber. Short but stout, his frizzy hair isn't as bright of a red as it used to be. A strong royalist, he is Boranel’s greatest ally in parliament and has been instrumental in passing much of Boranel’s agenda. He rallied support in parliament for both ratifying the Treaty of Thronehold and its promotion of rights for warforged. However, he did break with Boranel on one major issue - the creation of New Cyre. For Owen, Breland is for the Brelish people. Warforged who fought for Breland have earned their citizenship, but the large masses of Cyran refugees did not. Unable to convince Boranel otherwise, he was at least capable of ensuring that New Cyre was founded on land absolutely nobody else wanted near the Darguun border
Off Aerenal proper stands a small island, unmarked on any map. Covered in thick jungle and surrounded by a barrier of reefs, it is inhospitable and all but unapproachable. Only a few elves know the way, and only the rarest of explorers fi nds the path by accident. Those who do might wish they had not, for this is the isle of Taernas Reul, a naturally occurring focal point of necromantic energies nearly as potent as the City of the Dead itself. Taernas Reul is a haven for undying who need time away from their living charges, a place where they seek solitude and the opportunity to contemplate their own existence.
The entire isle is covered in thick jungle and undergrowth. Oddly enough, enormous gardens of bright flowers grow in seemingly random spots across the isle, tended by the undying as a means of meditation. No animals chitter in the shadows, no birds sing from the branches. Nothing living dwells on this isle. The trees, the vines, even the many beautiful flowers that bloom in spring are dead—yet they continue to grow, even to thrive. Some are merely disturbing; some release foul odors; some can kill with a touch. While not innately hostile, the undying frown on those who intrude on their solitude, and feel no remorse if the isle itself slays intruders.
Natural pathways are the only easy way to cross the island. Stepping off the path means pushing through underbrush that can harm with the merest touch. Thick jungle occupies most of the island, jutting unusually far north in this area. Attempts to travel through it require a slow pace and sharp blades. When cut, some of the trees ooze a dark sap that looks and smells very much like coagulating blood. To the south, the ground becomes uneven. The range of hills that begins here continues on for miles, eventually disappearing into the heavy jungles.