Two good eggs facing the consequences of Hekate’s actions
Reeling from their encounter with the guards, the group made their way towards Derelictus, passing first through St. Pertida’s Circle, where they were almost overcome by the sickly-sweet smell of fruit, just beginning to rot.
They noticed a windmill in the middle of the district that had oranges and melons pouring out of windows and doors, spilling into the streets. Some of it was beginning to turn into a soft sludge. Rifling through the fruit was an old drow woman, who told the party it had something to do with a labor strike, and that she was gathering fruit for her family. The party agreed not to tell anyone what they had seen.
When they arrived in the undercity, it began to rain. The fastest way through to Derelictus is to cut through the Graveyard of Favored Souls. The graveyard is the only burial place run by drow, making it the home to deceased folk heroes, including former ministrators. Anywhere else a drow might be buried in the city, they are given sub-prime lots, often 5 to a plot. Here, they have respect and dignity, even if the name of the cemetary was given by the Aelfir as a snide, tongue-in-cheek kind of a joke.
Since it was already after midnight, the crew chose to cut through the cemetary, rather than spending an hour going around. Inside, they saw a cloaked figure in the distance, holding a lantern and bobbing between graves. He seemed to be searching for something. The party accosted the man, a late-fortys drow named Drex, atop the grave of Lefren Debwah.
Lefren was one of the most successful resistance agents in Spire history. He was able to “liberate” Ivory Row for 31 minutes before the Aelfir responded with overwhelming force. He was killed along with his supporters, and his body was hung from below the middle city. What is buried here is very little, if any, of the revolutionary.
Drex was bowing over the grave and rubbing a trinket, leading Hekate to believe that he was performing a ritual. In fact, Drex just wanted to pay his respects, and figure out how to join the Ministry. Hekate asked him, “What grave are you here to see?” and the drow lied, saying his brothers, gesturing to a nearby grave. “What name is on that grave?” “Err… Pollox?” It was not Pollox.
Drex revealed his desires, and handed over both the trinket (a 5” model of the Spire, with a red ball bearing allegedly showing the location of the Last Train. The vendor who sold it to him promised that if he broke the idol, it would summon the Last Train to his current location), as well as a gun.
Drex has a habit of finding new things, which he demonstrated over the night. He found a second gun (a long-barreled musket), a keyring, several coins, and a ring of poppies, leading the party to almost trust him, thanks to their experience with poppies when they first met.
Then there was Derelictus. It should be sleeping. It’s not sleeping.
Drex in tow, the group made their way to Derelictus, which had recently been hit by a large flood. Six people stood by with lanterns, directing laborers who were bailing out ruined homes, building rafts from wooden roofs, and scavenging what they could.
Inshalle dove into the water, finding a plug and lowering it from chest-level to waist-level, but water still poured in. Small children sat atop roofs, complaining about being woken form their sleep, and of being tired and hungry. The water sucked at him, pulling him into the hole he’d created, and Inshalle was only barely able to swim against the current. He lay on broken masonry, coughing up murky brown water and catching his breath.
One of the lantern-holders, a maskless Aelfir named Rain-Upon-The-Precipice, had an orange lantern. Hekate tried to trade her for Drex’s green one, but she grew suspicious, so Hekate punched the Aelfir, taking her lantern. Rain-Upon-The-Precipice stood and punched Zhaver, thinking he was the one who’d punched her (in the absence of the light). Zhaver took off, trying to lure the workers away while Hekate speed-waded towards the entrance.
Zhaver’s gambit worked, and one of the laborers swung a shovel at his head. Inshalle swooped in to block the blow, breaking his arm against the shovel. Rain-Upon-The-Precipice denounced the group as opportunistic robbers who came to prey on them in their time of desperation.
Searching for other sources of light, Inshalle pointed out a trickle of moonlight seeping in through some bramble in the ceiling, as well as an underwater cache of lanterns and supplies. Hekate used the stolen orange lantern to light vines racing up to the ceiling, igniting the bramble. This sent flaming sticks and leaves splashing harmlessly into the water below, and illuminated the cavern in blessed moonlight. Immediatley, Rain-Upon-The-Precipice set to work, issuing new orders and making Inshalle a splint out of the few remaining dry tunics the people of Derelictus had.
Rain-Upon-The-Precipice pronounced Inshalle a friend of Derelictus, and explained that here, race was not important. The only thing that mattered was how well you were able to support your community, especially in times of crisis.
Hekate proclaimed that she needed the lantern to save her life, a claim Rain-Upon-The-Precipice believed, but answered back with a challenge: if you ever return, it had better be to help. If you come back for any other reason, that lantern will be worth more to me than your life.
No rest for the weary
Only a few hours before sunrise, the group made their way back to the North Docks where the drow woman asked for the lantern. She said they’d need it for their next mission: breaking into the Heights1, an ultra-secure prison to break out Teeth-Gnawing-On-Driftwood, a murderous gnoll due for execution in just two days.2.