[Salone]

Na'lsa began to tremble. The pangs of hunger had begun to lightly paw at his resolve, and the Chaplain's ranting read like a menu of fine dining to him. Keeping up appearances was quickly putting a strain on him. This was something he would have to practice. He was...

He smelled the sweet aroma. That off-metallic smell of blood. He quickly scanned the room, yearning to know the source of the sweet sustaining nectar. His eyes found the Chaplain, along with a small scrape that he acquired when he had been thrown back in to his desk. It was small, but it had been enough. His hunger was growing.

Na'lsa fought back his urges with a small groan. He eyed the priest as he spoke, his voice sounding weary.

"Let them come. Let them all come. They will be met with a hunger stronger than theirs."