Brooding in a dark corner, a quiet Oron sat minding his own business. His blood shot eyes spoke of ill sleep as he reminisced the dream that haunted him. 
The Seraphim soldier had since come and gone without Oron taking any notice. His words were heard but fell without consideration.

Oron could not shake that fake feeble sense of helpless desperation caused from within the dream. He hated it. Deemed it a weakness. Even just to imagine it caused him to spit spitefully and curse his imagination. 
Now the longing, he had learnt to hide and disguise that feeling decades ago. So what was this and why now? Was he growing weakend with age, was his skin and heart becoming soft? Or had he just been in Sunfire for too long already.

These thoughts troubled him long into the night. Heavy empty mug after heavy empty mug slammed down on his sturdy wooden table, demanding his next drink as he sought to wash the wretched thoughts of dreams from his mind and move on. 

Before he knew it he had drunk more than a normal man ever should, but for his size and blood type he was only slightly hindered.
He could feel the tension in the air around him, common words were whispered amongst the commotion. 'Curfew'.
He smelt something in the air that brought a smile to his lips. Fear. This was something that was good for business.

After slamming down his last empty mug he cups his bare hands and loudly cracks his knuckles in rapid succession. He paid his tab and left the tavern to go wonder the streets and get a 'feel' for the mood of the town. 

He frowned upon the Seraphim and people of this town, considered them weak and rigid, wasn't fond of their plant based diets or sun energies either but all that didn't mean he wouldn't take coin from them though. But as he wandered along the dark cool streets and curfew slowly crept nearer and nearer, his appetite lent towards something to accompany all that ale and his hunger for something a little more 'bloody' grew stronger.