[color=92278f][center][h3]Victor Astorio[/h3][/center][/color]

The tall vampire had no trouble walking through the crowds of mages and vampires alike, they were heading away from where he was heading after all. Walking towards the arena in autopilot, he was thinking about what had just transpired. Going over his actions and the actions of the others again and again. 

Victor took the time to memorize their looks and reactions to how he acted and to what was said. He only wished he stayed around long enough to see Salem’s reaction to realizing the vampire he laid hands on was a noble. He knew he would still wait longer to tell the boy they were stuck with each other. Yet for some reason out of all of those mages, the one that stuck with him the most was that girl. Something about that girl looked like… her.

The vampire was quick to pull himself from his thoughts and his sudden realization, a ghost from his past that continued to haunt him. Getting a grip of his emotions and thoughts, he began looking around only to see the entrance to the arena and the few that still paced about. He needed to clear his thoughts and his mind of that memory that was better off buried. He knew this was just the place to do it.

Walking slowly and quietly, each step almost melding into the stone floor as he approached the arena itself. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself or have someone stop him before he got to the sand. Those that were around didn’t seem to pay any attention to him, a mage eating a sandwich and going over homework, a few instructors doing paperwork, and fewer still cleaning up the area. Seeing as how no one tried to stop him or approach him even, he took to taking off some of his clothes. 

Untying his boots first, placing his socks inside them then taking off his jacket. Victor found himself pausing for a moment, just a moment of hesitation before pulling off the black turtleneck. He neatly placed his things on a nearby stone bench with his Astorio amulet on top of everything so no one would mess with anything.  

Stepping out onto the dimly lit sand one could clearly see the extent of his scars and markings now. Every mark that tarnished his powerful frame, every mark across his back, his shoulders, down his arms, and along his chest, many still disappearing below his belt line. A scar on a human or a mage was one thing; a scar on a being with superior healing abilities was another. A scar for a vampire meant repeated injuries in the same place again and again until the healing ability was not able to keep up anymore. Some of these marks could be explained through training, some through bad luck maybe, but to one that knew what they were looking at would know it to be the result of prolonged torture.

Some scars looked to be made by a surgical instrument of some kind, most looked like they were caused by a bladed weapon, others from what could only be described as some sort of acid or flame perhaps, and a few that looked like exposure to sunlight. Still in the dim light of the arena, the large vampire picked up a hand full of sand and rubbed it between his hands. Closing his eyes and breathing deep, he took an aggressive stance and raised his fists. Opening his eyes he let his current mood take over and his eyes were flooded with darkness as he began to strike with punches and kicks at the air and at some unseen enemy.