Rube Street, Market Ward
The Chanters Field is a rather odd place, always bustling with activity, and noise. Lots, and lots, of noise. Chanter’s Field is a large place located in the Market sector of Sigil. It is a long stretch of grass. But, wait berk, it ain’t actually grass. You see, the stuff that grows there, you don’t want to step on it. Cause when you do…
The “grass” is actually a giant colony of sentient plants. And when you step on them, they get a little mad. Wouldn’t you? But I think having your feet nibbled isn’t a very good response. ‘Course, the turf ain’t the important part of the Chanter’s Field. See, throughout the field are stone paths that connect to plazas. Each plaza has in its centre a small podium.
The factions seem to love this place. You probably heard all those quotes, you know, like, “We’re all gods… Some of us just don’t know it yet”. Guess where those come from? You guessed it cutter. This is the unofficial home of the factions preaching and blabbering.
In my opinion, the fun part starts when the people get sick of the speaker, and start throwing their lunches and who knows what-all-else at the chanter. A lot of other junk also finds its way up to the podium. Like black puddings and caltrops. And you don’t wanna step on one of those either, cutter. Currently, there are a good twenty-or-so plazas and stages. Anyone can talk, but the spaces are usually all taken by some bloods with their heads on wrong. Be prepared to queue for hours—bring a packed lunch, preferably one that also makes a good projectile.
Source: John Hanson and Jon Winter-Holt