Night hung over the damp, dark streets of Oak-town; local residents retreated to either the embracing comfort of their homes or found solace within the calm, dim-lit taverns of the inner-streets. Men found beds warmed by women who were ready to give themselves up for another night's pay, taking drunken thrust after drunken thrust in another dull moment of their living conditions. Men and women alike got drunk and sang merry songs together when they were not already at each others' throats. Tavern owners made their nightly quota, and for a time the livelihood the action-filled night died down to total darkness. A single tavern still had its doors open, a sight to see for three in the morning.
"Perfect."
Urion finally made his way into Oak town at probably one of the most inconvenient of times; as a town that housed a dark guild, there was the idea that there could be a mugging or much worse that could happen at a given moment. The Blue Pegasus mage understood this and decided to camp for the night at a hole-in-the-wall tavern that most people would not have known to exist. Urion knew the owner through some connections made prior to joining Blue Pegasus, so he would not be breaking guild rules by calling in a favor. Walking through the doors, he came upon the shambles that was considered a tavern.
A few tables stood at odd and random places about the place, with three chairs to each. An old woman sat behind the counter, flanked by dozens upon dozens of half-empty bottles of liquor. She was small and had gray hairs, but clung to much of her youth. Without knowing she was eighty-three, one would assume she was only thirty years younger than what she was. Upon seeing the red-haired man her face contorted to show skepticism and worry as to who the new face was to her establishment. However, upon Urion talking, she gasped and beckoned for him to approach her. She held his face in her hands and gave a weak smile before pouring a shot glass of vodka and hummed a song she knew herself.
A room was always prepared for Urion, but he would find it better than he sat and relaxed at the bar counter, looking at the bottles on display and swirling his drink in hand. He wore his traveling gear and considering it was Autumn he wore a considerable amount of clothing. He donned brown and black boots, charcoal black pants and a gray t-shirt that clung to his torso and defined his chest. His coat was hanging up by the old woman who, at this point in time, got up to go to the back and prepare some food to cook. Urion had his backpack on, filled with essentials and the like that he needed: spare clothing, toiletries, and a notebook. He looked at this wrists and wondered how quickly he should seek out the other contacts he had in Oak. There were leftover memories that hung around his brain, and it would be in his best interest to ignore them for the time being. It would take some time for him to get drunk, so he knew he could handle having more shots of the occasion called for it.
Urion examined his new form in the reflection of the vodka in his shot glass and gave a calm sigh. It would be difficult to explain exactly what had happened to him, but he decided that he would tackle that issue once he got there. He would have to request a room soon and begin preparations. It was going to be a long night for the man, who was more than ready to get it all over with.