H130, Day 222, 11 BP (Quicksilver)

[Stix]

A blanket of sulfur-stinking mist paired with the overcast smog-filled sky makes the angles of the Lower Ward difficult to make out, and Silver has no chance of keeping pace with the overeager and nigh-manic bariaur. Thankfully, Roenthad makes a number of wrong turns, correcting his mistakes and returning to his intended path just as the faction hopeful catches up with him.

It's the better part of an hour before the pair nears the Ditch, perceivable only by the distant sound of the sluggish running water. Silver catches up with Roenthad, who's stopped halfway under the wide eaves of a two-story house. The bariaur strikes something against the wall, and a brief shower of sparks precedes a sudden burst of white light from a short wand in his hand.

"Where's the best place to start a riot?" he asks his protégé, grinning wildly as he's pelted by the icy rain.

[Uathach Blackmantle]

Pausing under the eaves of the rundown kip beside Roenthad, Silver shakes the rain from her cloak - as best as she could, anyway - and peers into the gloom. Tonight had turned out to be nothing short of interesting so far. After losing sight of the Sinker on numerous occassions - no small feat, considering his distinctive appearance - it was by luck, or chance, or carelessness on the bariaur's part, that she caught up with him here.

So when he asked her, "where's the best place to start a riot?" she knew this eve was about to get more interesting indeed.

"Tha best place ta be startin a riot, huh?" She echoes, pursing her lips thoughtfully. She tugs on the spike shoved through her right earlobe, running over in her head the numerous places she knew of that had the highest concentration of people, and the greatest likelihood of raised tensions.

"Anywhere tha Chaosmen're likely ta bang 'round. Rag Picker's Square, tha Bottle 'n' Jug, tha Red Pony, Great Bazaar, tha Nightmarket, that Gatehouse line, outside tha Festhall... Anywhere there's likely ta be a lot o' bashers wantin' ta start a fight - or desperate enough ta fight fer no other reason than fightin's sake - an' plenty o' lawful do-gooders wantin' ta stop the fightin, or suppress another basher's opinions, or freedom o' expression." She adds with a nonchalant shrug, and cracks her knuckles.

She seems equally restless and energetic, eager to do something else other than standing around, planning what to do next.

[Stix]

"Follow me," the bariaur growls through his elated grin, darting off toward the Hive Ward.

(To continue on the Hive Ward streets, in Ragpicker's Square.)