Lindeaux

Lindeax's centuries-old gothic spires have gone from radiant peaks of glimmering brass to overgrown, patinated obelisks representing the oppressive gloom that dominates the city. What was once a sun-kissed gallery of lustrous masonry and shining metal has long since been weathered into a veritable ribcage of algae-slick stone and vine-ridden rooftops. Since its drift into the Hydrofall, Lindeax has received numerable architectural updates to deal with the frequent and torrential upfall of rain; twisting drains funnel water through mills and over manmade waterfalls, providing the city's mechanical infrastructure with the necessary torque to keep winding. Countless offshoots provide running water of dubious cleanliness to homes and businesses alike, and the remaining rainwater collects in the flooded undercity, which acts as a glorified tank to store Lindeax's primary export.

Lindeaux spends most of the year in rain and mist, a fact which contributes heavily to its appellation.

The Weeping City is overgrown with long, hanging vines, that trail all the way from its highest peaks to the flooded undercity. Said undercity is home to numerous species of indeterminate origin; fish, eels, and a booming population of frogs are just a few of the creatures that call fallside Lindeaux their humid home. A rich--if young--culture of wetweeds, coral, and other subaqueous flora have developed in the undercity's dank recesses since its submersion, alongside all manner of lily pads and surface snappers along the waterline.