Standing at the top bleacher of the emptyTraining Arena, Demetrio scanned the area with his murky brown eyes. No other mage seemed to be here today. He wasn't sure whether he wanted the seats full or not, since he probably had equal chances of winning or losing. Pushing the nagging thought that he might actually lose to his opponent out of his mind, the mage flexed his digits until it made him look as if he was preparing for some piano concerto rather then a training exercise or fight. Besides, the formal challenge had already been made, and all he could do now was to wait for the match to begin and end. You could end up fainting or throwing up after this duel, the nasty little worry-voice sounded in his mind. Demetrio Vasquez scowled at himself. Really, what was there to worry about? It's not like his opponent would be any better...
Biting his lip lightly, the young healer descended down the steps towards the sanded ground in the center, black robes billowing behind him. Coming to a halt at the bottom step, he sighed as he looked around slowly again, taking everything in. This place was like the Dome back in Laskar, except that it was exposed to the sunlight without its large bowl-like roof, and somewhat bigger. Striding over to the wall that sourounded the 'sand pit', he laid a hand on it, and could feel the rush of magic within it. Good. At least they were protectively powered to keep any lose Strikes from ruining the bleachers.
Turning his back to the wall, Demetrio glanced up at the sky in the direction of the bright sunlight. It was afternoon at the moment, and the sun was in the west, and high enough to peek over the topmost bleachers. At that, a small smile appeared on the teenager's pale features. He would move over sideways at some time in the duel so that the sunlight would be to his advantage. That was one of the first tips he had been given as a young novice, and wasn't likely to forget it.
Taking a deep breath of the slowly cooling summer air, Demetrio looked up for any sparring partners.
What am I doing here again? Ah yes. A whim.
The Chaos Elemental had never found a need to visit the training grounds, mostly becuase his raw, chaotic power could not be tamed or trained. It flowed throughout him, and into other things, uninhibited or controled. An advantage as well as a disadvantage. But, the disadvantages were marginal in his opinion. That being of insanity, for example. Although, technically, he was insane before hand. So, really, it held no disadvantage did it?
That was a little too confusing at the moment. The arena was relatively empty, with the exception of a young man who looked familiar. Meandering about the arena, inspecting it, looking to the sky. Typical. Tithdaeron himself was a shadow, concealed among shadows, on the other side of the arena. A trick he had mastered and never lost when he was previously a vampire. It was a useful one as well, especially when one was hunted by several of the more divine beings in Arda.
He seemed to be looking for someone to fight, so, Tithdaeron would gladly provide the need. Taking on a physical self, the shapeshifter morphed into his usual adopted guise. A tall, muscualr man. Dark complexion, with the fire of his chaotic soul showing in his eyes. Covered by his Cloak of Disorder, amongst other miscellaneous clothing items. All were black. His Rune Mail was concealed beneath, as well as the Blade of War he used rarely. It was more of a trophy.
"Young boy, are you looking for something?" he asked, in a gravelly tone that spoke of many battles and much experience. As well as a sly undertone. What would this man hold up his sleeves? Or was it a mere innocent slight of the voice? Nobody was ever sure.