“It looms suddenly, massive, stamped on the landscape. Its light wells up around the surrounds, the rock hills, like bruise-blood. Its dirty towers glow. I am debased. I am compelled to worship this extraordinary presence that has silted into existence at the connection of two rivers. It is a vast pollutant, a stench, a klaxon sounding. Fat chimneys retch dirt into the sky even now in the deep night. It is not the current which pulls us but the city itself, its weight sucks us in. Faint shouts, here and there the call of beasts, the obscene clash and pounding from the factories as huge machines rut. Railways trace urban anatomy like protruding veins. Red brick and dark walls, squat churches like troglodytic things, ragged awnings flickering, cobbled mazes in the old town, culs-de-sac, sewers riddling the earth like secular sepulchers, a new landscape of wasteground, crushed stone, libraries fat with forgotten volumes, old hospitals, towerblocks, ships and metal claws that lift cargo from the water.”
                                                      -- China Miéville, Perdido Street Station

     During the day, this is a shimmering city of mithril towers that belie the mundane lives that crawl between them. At night, a dark sheen seems to cover Argent, the Silver City. A thick fog fills the air and monsters roam the streets, and many shops feature wards over their entrances to keep the unwholesome out.
     Argent  lies on a vast plateau. Though there’s a small harbor serving sea vessels, most serious transportation occurs on dirigibles. As a fun note, the rocky soil has resulted most cemeteries having above-ground tombs.