[b]The Cells[/b]

The prison quietens; the chatter and shouts have stopped, leaving only the cries of unbroken beast and the weeping of captives. Even the guards seem on edge.
You sense someone approaching - their gait is measured, but betrays weight in the soft pad of the stride and vibrations in the floor.
An Orc steps into view, wearing only linen trousers and soft-soled shoes, and you immediately understand why. You can read the scar-writ saga upon his frame like a mother tongue.
Those five lines from the left temple to the right cheek, over the eye; claws. They intersect a neat score to the corner of the lips from... a light blade, a rapier perhaps. Pockmarks from a pellet gun warp his shoulder. A puckered indentation just above his hip recalls the bite of an axe.
His knuckles are worn steel fused over the bone.
He squats until his pale brown eyes are level with yours and says nothing for a time.
"You're no more trapped than I," he says in accented Trollish, and you recall you've heard ths name of this one. The Unfortunate Son.

[b]The Streets[/b]

One of Leadbelly's henchmen sees you approach from half a street away and ushers you past the lines of glaring specators who have to wait their turn to enter the worn red edifice of the arena.
You're pointed to the corridor to Kira's private box. She has posted no guards that you can see, but that's unsurprising. Few Scions live long if they can't defend themselves with surpassing style.
As you approach the the door, up steps and steps and more bloody steps, you overhear voices beyond the door marked VIP.
"...an't spare the bodies with those bastards on the wind." Kira says, sounding nothing so much as tired.
A high, strangled voice replies in sing-song. Adrian, so paranoid, immediately looks at the ceilings and sees a fat black spider on the lintel of the door. The speaker must be one of Orohome's Chorus.
"She will come here, Kira, with or without the star, and neither ends well for anyone."
"You send someone then!" Kira barks.
You have a very narrow window to interrupt, or listen; if the spiders have seen you, it is the Vampire's choice not to announce your arrival.