Approach The Drow Woman

Approaching the fountain and its observer, you now are able to get a closer look at it.

It’s made primarily from stone with 4 individual tiers each with its own magical creatures the first being a set of 9 imps, lesser demons that could belong to any given subtype.

The next tier is host to a retinue of Dread Knights, undead spirits given form so that it may serve its intended function, the name coming from the fact that the many bones that comprise the spirits shell shares a resemblance to knights armor.

The penultimate tier holds 3 statues depicting some kind of bipedal praying mantis creatures that strike a pose that reminds you of an ape beating its chest or a lion letting loose a mighty roar to celebrate victory.

And then, finally, upon the final platform at the very top of the fountain is a mage, comprised of stone just like the others but in his hand appears to be an authentic staff, pointing out ahead as though to give a command.

From the end of the end of the staff flows an unending torrent of water that bends and shifts instead of following its proper trajectory, the flow of water twists and turns, making its way down the fountain, wrapping around the stony necks of each creature on the descending tiers, looking similar to some kind of collar.

Finally your eyes work down the grim statue, finding a plague that reads in bold letters: Sylvin Ba’asan, the great subjugator.

A rather grim figure to have a statue dedicated in his honor, though you imagine that the administration doesn’t much care.

“Brilliant isn’t he?” The Drow woman says, not taking her eyes off the statue, her robes appear modified, ripped in key places revealing ashen skin, the shoulders are entirely missing, causing the sleeves to sag down her arms slightly, strips have been cut from her sides causing the bottom half of the robes to hang, exposing her hips but little else.

![]https://imgur.com/gallery/qceGSBR

Without waiting for your reply she continues on.

“Not that you would know it, but he was a Drow mage, one of the greats… bent the universe to his will..”

“What for..?” Was all you could manage, looking up at the statue, dedicated to a man who tried to exert his will over forces far older than himself.

“Who knows? Everyone has a theory, a lust for power, greed, knowledge, me? I think he just wanted control…”

“Control of what?”

“Of everything, of the outsiders, sure, but through them, also the inhabitants of the mortal realm, his great army carved a swathe through the high elves, leaving in its wake a place above ground for our people to call home, he saved us from the darkness…”

She speaks with a tenderness in her voice, a somber tone as her eyes slowly glides along stonework.

“What happened to him…?” You can’t really help but ask, the words simply fall from your mouth if their own accord.

“No one knows… once the war was over he just… vanished.. luckily the high elves were too crippled by his conquest to take back our new home… but to this day no one’s found a trace of him… not one…”

The two of you are silent for a time, simply processing the conversation, now looking upon the statue in a different light, where once a subjugator stood, stands a savior, someone who used what they had to save their people from the darkness.

Before you can ask, she offers up her name, looking at you for the first time sense your approach.

“Julani… That’s what they call me.. I’ll see you around…”

Taking that as your cue, you turn and head back to the entrance of the great hall.