As Nacha walked through the streets, an uncomfortable feeling began to dawn upon him. Wherever he went people stared, their eyes piercing his form like knives, it was unbearable. Slinking into yet another alleyway he caught a glimpse of his face in a puddle’s reflection; it was withered, ugly, and caked in mud. His clothes were crude furs lashed with hide and bone, the people of towns and cities did not share this fashion, why should he? Perhaps the people wouldn’t stare as mcuh if he looked like them.
Then an idea crept into his head… he would dress like these folk, study them, become them. He would only be worthy of worship if the people valued him, rather than stare with equal mixtures of fear and disgust. First, he would need clothes, then something to do… something to earn renown or keep (as he had no money of his own). He resumed his slinking, this time with purpose, he would search for any tailor’s shops (preferably ones with entrances at the back, so he could enter unseen).