Your party has wound it's way through the warrens and the lights from the Guildhall have long since faded behind you. It's difficult to see much around you; several small boat masts and a few different piles of barrels and debris block a lot of your vision. Ahead of you, you can continue traveling west down the docks in between two rows of staged barrels. To the right, another path opens up along the cobblestones, running in between a nearby warehouse and a few other buildings beyond.
A row of different buildings run along the north side of the docks, opposite the water. They're ramshackle, sometimes lopsided, and all of different heights, but they're jammed together so close it would be fairly easy to move from one rooftop to the other, if necessary.
Up ahead, the docks branch out into the river again and several large multi-pronged piers spread out into the water, and you can see a few different sized ships moored there. The docks are similarly laded with piles of crates and barrels and there are occasional storage sheds puncturing the landscape both on land and over the water. About a hundred yards west, another large warehouse looms right where the river cuts back north, obscuring your view of the next pier. Several other piles of supplies near that warehouse create a sort of choke point before you will be able to round the next bend.
Finally, in between the two warehouses are several tight paths with lots of looming shadows and odd angles; the place is messy to the point of seeming more like a maze then a well ordered industrial center. You don't see any signs of movement -- yet. There's plenty of places to hide.
As you make your way forward, there's the slightest, almost imperceptible flutter and Julius flapped back to Barbara from the dark sky above.
Spoiler: Oracle
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Julius seems happy -- or, maybe not happy, perhaps excited is a better word. You can't tell exactly what he means, but you're certain he's found people up ahead -- and he knows where they are. His eagerness seems to radiate from having accomplished what you asked of him. He snuggles his ugly bat head against your hood and the faint sound of his subsonic chirping hums in your ear.