The Sea Tower

        The lutrai have -no- idea what to make of this tall, rusting metal gantry, perched out on a small island off the southern coast. They call it the Sea Tower, or for those that have been to inspect it firsthand, the Really Old Metal Shouting Tree. And for relatively good reason. It's very old, dating back to the time of the Creators, and it does indeed emit a steadily repeating sound, a series of rapid tone-combinations that seem to resonate from the ancient metal itself. High atop the island cliffs, the skeletal array rises nearly fifty feet into the air, and is surrounded by a corroded metal fence that has long since fallen apart. The lutrai know it's part of the Time Before, like many of the other ruins found throughout Rym, but what makes it interesting is that still seems to be working.

        And it is, in fact, working to some extent. The tower is actually a transmitter array, sending a looped distress signal from the last apocalyptic days of the ancient war. Only Machines can translate the numerical databusts that make up the message, which is as follows:

        "Citizens, remains calm. Victory is at hand."

        This is, in fact, the voice of the City Mind, recorded shortly before the end came. Presumably, towers such as these were scattered all over Rym, reserved for its high-priority messages, though most are now long dead and buried. The array also acts as a weather station and a waypoint beacon for the dreaded aetherhawk, Nigh.

The Sub-Structure

        Little does anyone know, there is actually a small underground listening post here, below the array. The rusted hatch is overgrown with weeds and brambles, and buried under perhaps a foot of soil directly underneath the gantry. If it can somehow be opened, this hatch reveals a musty metal shaft that descends twenty feet into a small, cramped chamber full of ancient, ruined equipment. A pair of skeletons in rotting green uniforms lie entwined upon the floor, as if locked in struggle. A third lies slumped over a console, clutching a rusted ray gun in one skeletal hand. Other than a single sinewave display of the repeating signal, not a single item here is still in working order. However, the skeleton at the dead console wears a functional level two keycard, which will grant access to other, more important Creator facilities.

        The layout of the sub-structure is really just the one room, with small sleeping compartments adjacent on three sides. The fourth wall opens into the ladder well through which the tiny facility is accessed. The sleeping comparments are spartan and sterile, full of curious, crumbling nostalgia from another era now nearly forgotten. The interior is lit only by the single foxfire glow of the sinewave and possibly light from the open hatch above; it has lain undisturbed for over three thousand years.

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