The [[Dredger Lifts]] is a small area of rusted, skeletal frames creaking ominously in the wind. Massive iron chains groan as they suspend platforms large enough to carry a dozen people or a couple of small carts, though each is weathered by acid rain and years of neglect. The air here carries a faint metallic tang, mingled with the acrid stench of grease and sweat, and is colder than the rest of [[Last Port]], as though [[The Abyss]] itself breathes through the cracks in the island. A low canopy of scavenged sheet metal provides meager shelter for those who gather here, waiting to descend. Makeshift benches, patched with rotting planks, line the space, where [[Dredgers]] sit in heavy silence or mutter in low tones. The walls of the lift housing are covered in scratched graffiti—some illegible, some etched with bitter finality: