Ieremia could practically smell the blood about to be spilled here. In case he was to be selected, he had already been busy: a few conversations with some Outworld herbalists taught him about a plant here on the island that could be used to inflict temporary paralysis upon an enemy, and he had already distilled its most potent parts into a dose of liquid poison currently smeared on the interior of his dagger sheath. The simple act of drawing the weapon housed there would completely coat the blade in the poison.<br/><br/>He shivered with anticipation, checking a few more times to make sure that he had everything ready. The buckles on his studded black leather armor were secure, his cape could be removed at a moment's notice, his weapons were all there. It had been too long since he had faced down a proper foe in single combat, and he could scarcely concentrate on what Shang Tsung was saying about the tournament as he was reviewing his form in his head. The vampire could feel his teeth turn to fangs in his mouth, and his bloodlust continued to build. He had to fight soon, had to draw blood, had to make someone suffer. It had been too long...<br/><br/>He caught sight of a woman in armor speaking with a peculiar man of an Eastern bent, in a robe and straw hat, and decided what he wanted to do.<em>Her. I want to fight her,</em>Ieremia thought. His fingers curled and uncurled around his kilij's hilt, and he accidentally pricked his tongue on one of his fangs. The little stab of pain brought him back down, to his more cunning mindset.<em>You're the private here, Ieremia, not them,</em>he thought with a hint of bitterness.<em>They're going to display someone impressive for this first fight, like that giant four-armed furry freak, not you.</em>