Clash of Salamander and Storm

Despite their usual reputations of being places usually crawling with scientists, researchers, or whoever else decided that some 'groundbreaking discoveries' could occur within its boundaries, this certain set of ruins was surprisingly peaceful, at least for the time being. No sign of any other human habitation (save for that which occurred many, MANY years ago) was visible, and all that was left were the various overgrown buildings and the variety of seemingly random oak trees, flowers and clearings that dotted the landscape.

A certain green-haired lad dropped from a half-overturned tower into the 'ground floor' of the ruins, a small paper in one of his hands, carefully scanning the environment. He was standing in something of a Colosseum, though it was every bit as overgrown as the rest of the ruins, with a decent bit of seating left over in the stands, and the entrances on either side were still there, if the one in the south had a large block in the way, hence the reason why the young man felt the need to take a more aerial approach.

Unfortunately, the young man was alone, his travelling companions having decided that a more logical approach was to allow him to go to the mysterious tournament, while they took a small detour to the nearest town in order to stock up on their already scarce food supplies. Thankfully, however, travelling aimlessly around the world allowed one the luxury of shortcuts.

The lad's ears suddenly twitched, and his nose took a sharp intake of air, as the scent of a newcomer reached him, and the faint sound of footsteps hit his ears. Smiling a bit wider now, he stuffed the paper that he held into one of his pockets, then immediately launched into some light battle preparations; stretching, practice punching the air, etc.