Namia awoke in darkness, initially panicked he reached for his sickle which normally lay at his side when he slept before realising he was safe. He did not understand why the guild had insisted upon him helping them before almost immediately afterwards insisting that he slept in a windowless room and kept out of sight of the 'commoners', he assumed this meant that the inhabitants of this city much like the previous few would react negatively if they saw his appearance. He noted that on his approach to Rothenburg, whilst the monsters he sought were more abundant the people were generally more hostile likely due to one too many bad experiences with strangers.

Groaning he slowly sat up and lit a candle, using the light to inspect himself he noted that the spines which had begun to grow on his back, shins and forearms were becoming more pronounced. Tying his dreadlocks behind his head he slowly got up before getting dressed, he fitted his sickle and poison making kit to his belt and finally donned the heavy cloak that the guild had given him to hide his features. Sitting back down he stared at his hunting mask which he had hung on a peg by the door, he was surprised that the ornate designs on the mask had stayed intact for so long. Suddenly he longed to return home, remembering the witches promise that if he managed to complete his transformation he would be able to return to his people. Trying to keep his mind away from his home he crossed the room, placed the mask over his face and opened the door.
Luckily he didn't have to travel far to reach the main room, he was still getting used to the layout and was worried about getting lost in this new environment. Approaching the bounty board he eyed the contracts for a while before marking the Ogre hunt to show his interest. He walked over to the corner of the room and sat alone at a table and got out his poison kit deciding to prepare some venoms to apply to his blade. Taking off his mask so he could focus better, he wondered if he should look for the guilds captain 'Drystan he thought his name was?' before deciding against it, instead focusing on grinding up the ingredients he had assembled in his pestle and mortar.