[quote][b][color=blue]The Quest Log[/color][/b][color=red] has been updated![/color] [/quote]

	After traveling for quite some time, you've finally arrived in the port city of Ardent's Fall; quite arguably the crown jewel of Astoria. You hastily retreat from your mode of transportation. The nights of travel have been restless and unforgiving. Hopefully the allure of the city will be more accommodating. 

[hider=I've Traveled by Land]
	 The smells of horse dung, hay, and... for some odd reason.. human waste serve as foreign invaders 'voidbent' on crippling your senses and occupying your nostrils. The weary eyes of the stable-boy, who is in reality a portly middle-aged man, study your silhouette as it hurriedly frenzies towards the city gates. You find yourself surrounded by a myriad of other foreigners. No doubt all traveling here to observe the famed [b]Festival of Ardent[/b]. Because of this massive influx the guards posted at the gate have all but given up on inspecting travelers. You make your way through the port city. 
[/hider]

[hider=I've Traveled by Boat]
	 You are treated to the shimmering bulbs of Mage Fire as you reach the docks of the famed Ardent's Fall. Hues of purple and green flame decorate the braziers that light the path just barely eclipsed by the waning sun. The lights dance on the surface of crystal blue waters. As you make your way along the dock creaks and moans from the boards beneath you follow every step taken. You can see now a large gathering of people flocking towards the eastern roads of the city. Clearly they too are making their way to the [b]Festival of Ardent[/b]. You are nearly knocked off of your feet by the scurrying of busy dock workers. Their sharp breaths elucidating their desire to finish the work day and get to the festival. Whatever the case may be you make your way towards the glimmering lights. 
[/hider]

As you near your destination an obtrusive aroma fills the air. The smells of lilac and lavender battle with the smells of sausage and roasted boar for supremacy of the evening air. You can hear the distant hush of clashing waves. It's soft orchestra almost completely drowned out by the music and banter erupting from the festival. The sounds imply a large crowd as well as performers. Remembering the letter you received, you retrieve it from your person before opening it to ensure you understand its instructions. 

[quote]

[i]You have been summoned, via Royal Decree, to the Festival of Ardent on the 18th of Summerhill in the year of 114 GS. Please be aware, be you foreign or native, this matter is unfortunately one you have no choice in. L'est the glyph now occupying your left hand leave you a blackened husk. 

Upon entering the city you will make way to the festival, and upon arrival will revel in the merriment that it provides you. Accompanying this letter is a sealed envelope. You will be unable to open it; try if you must. You will know when to open it. Follow its instructions to the letter. 

We will be in touch.

Always Watching, 
Talis
 [/i][/quote]

You feel the weight of the sigil branded onto your hand burning. The mark has scarred your hand an unsettling discoloration marking you by some unknown power. Occasionally you feel the weight of the sigil as it twists and contorts like bugs fleeing your palm in search of shelter in your fingertips. It is unlike any other magic you have seen. Despite your best efforts in your homeland, the cursed mark has shown no sign of slowing in its progression. Your only option was to heed the commands of the letter. 

Closing your palm you feel the mark tug at you in a manner that disturbs you in ways you can't quite put to words. You steel your resolve, and head towards the festival.  

Upon arrival you are greeted by the intrusive whispers of drunken denizens and the belching of beggars. Cupped in their hands a plethora of desserts. The tantalizing sounds of quality loot players, the echoes of summer laughter, and the crisp crackling of flames fill your ears. The  warm yet breezy winds engulf you, and the flowered scents of before return to you. Colored banners of red, teal, white and gold line the streets. The insignia of Ardent's Fall (a teal compass) adorns the pavement and various flags. Every tavern  and business littered with signs about reduced pricing. You hear the clattering of footsteps as you walk the cobblestone roads. 

You notice before you , dotting the plaza as far as the eye can see a number of attractions. A group of tall and scantily clad exotic dancers -no doubt from Valenndale or one of the Union City States- beckon drunken suitors. Dwarven craftsmen have set up a small series of shops neighboring one another with a hodgepodge of trinkets, weapons, jewels, and other commodities. You see a stout woman standing next to a strange wheel carved in the shape of a round noblemen a look of horror drawn on his cartoon face. There are also a few fortune tellers gathered outside of the taverns at a small bench. Beside them, underneath a large oak tree is a story-teller surrounded by children. The cacophony of busy taverns, fire jugglers, a shouting apothecary, what looks to be a group of student mages, a mercenary troupe, and local noblemen conversing on a balcony overlooking the event would be enough to overwhelm many an unaccustomed traveler.  

This is where your story begins. Whatever you may choose, you must find your answers, in the way you see fit.