[quote][b][color=blue]The Quest Log[/color][/b][color=red] has been updated![/color] [/quote] You've found yourself on a manhunt in Caracas, "Canal City". The lingering summer smoke a vial concoction of cigars, sewage, and ineffective perfumes. Even the streets of Caracas seem a dramatic affair as every back alley and road has a constant stream of rose water tickling the bottoms of your boot. Continuing towards your target you notice various banners adorning city walls, and what must be state buildings given the protests that echo around them. The banners are orange in color, and outlined by a gold trim. In the center of the banner is a golden scale; even as a foreigner you'd recognize this as the city-states symbol. Handmaidens and bards alike spun tales of the romanticism of Caracan city days, but none of that mattered now. You now neared the Caracan Bull Pits, a fanciful and stunningly massive Colosseum rumored to have housed the fearsome Elven dragon 'Deis the Conqueror' during the [b]War of the Splitting Branches[/b]. You find your hand tracing the bricks of the structure, it's mystery and grandiosity somehow enticing. Less enticing were the numerous stairwells you were now forced to climb to find yourself a suitable vantage point to find your man. His name is [b]Dantel Ernesto Amarillo de Caracas[/b]; the leader of the [b]Caracas League of Magi[/b]. Rumors of his unparalleled knowledge in the arcane was no doubt brought many a hopeful benefactor from a myriad of lands. Given his status a man such as he would be sitting somewhere important. You just had to find where that is. -- You take your seat as you, but as your eyes scan the stadium you hear the sounds of loud grunts and the clanging of swords. It seemed two new combatants, an Orc and a human had already begun their war dance. You found yourself looking onward. [hider=Violence Pleases Me] You find yourself entranced by the fluid movement of the two fighters. They were no doubt well-versed in swordplay. One of them, the human, had a bladed whip on his hip. Your experience in battle alerts you to the reality that this man has most certainly claimed many an unfair victory. You extend your body excitedly as you nearly off of the edge of stone beneath you. Now seeing the fight more clearly you realize just how much faster the human is compared to the lumbering Orc. He makes quick strides around his oafish and lethargic opponent. His sword movements are swift and deliberate, but infrequent. You notice his preference for defensive posturing. Less glorious, but effective in a duel to the death. Your interest with this increasingly slow paced fight seems to be waning. [/hider] [hider=I Detest Violence] To your horror it seems the Orc and the Human were battling to the death, but what did you expect in the Caracan Bull Pits? Legends told of brutal deaths in the arena, and you wanted little part in it. You found it hard to pull yourself away from the escalating scene below as your sense of empathy for the fighters betrayed you. You take a sigh of relief as it seems that the human's strategy is to tire out the Orc. You wished that they'd just cease this cruelty, but at least there hadn't been much dismemberment yet. Sinking farther into your seat you find yourself growing used to the rancid smells and even worse sounds that permeate the Pits. [/hider] [hider=I Care Little of This] To your annoyance, the dueling Orc and Human seemed intent on distracting you from your objective. The clashing of sword against sword was enough to draw your gaze, but you cared little for the mundane barbarity of Caracan brutes. No, you needed to find Dantel before the Pits event ended. You had not come to here for the trivial romp, and you had no desire to slosh through any more of that damned rose water. It seemed that the fighting had settled into a waiting game. Regardless, you found yourself slouching rather lazily in your seat. This stone had to be the most uncomfortable seating you'd ever experienced. [/hider] You hear the distant sound of Human tears, and the valiant war cries of a victorious Orc. The poor sod had been hoisted up into the air, impaled by a mighty great sword. Blood showered the Orc who seemed to revel in his glory. The crowds erupted into blissful chaos and from the swell of voices all that you could gather was the name [b]Baenash the Impaler[/b]. Sensing yourself losing focus you re-adjust. You begin to inspect the area looking for any significant differences in seating or vantage point that might identify its occupant as Dantel. He was a apparently a noble; surely that meant something. The crowds of noisy spectators certainly didn't help matters, and you couldn't help but feel an ever-increasing tension looming in the Caracan skies. Was something amiss? Regardless, you needed to find Dantel and the League of Magi. This is where your story begins. Whatever you may choose, you must find your answers, in the way you see fit.