Anubis walked through the town, the low brim of his hat making him even less welcoming as a stranger, though his clothes were simple. The threads of a traveling pilgrim, his sounding staff striking the ground only slightly as its rings clatter faintly, giving a gentle warning to those ahead. There was a time he would have reveled in the fear of those around him, but as he tries to follow the teachings of the Ancient One, he feels pity, especially as he discovers the ruins of a once great city. It reminds him of many of the places he'd helped the Evil Tulpa lay waste to, and at one point, he pauses to offer a prayer over the long-dead, hoping they had not suffered greatly.

Having wandered, he was looking for a place he might stay, though he was fairly certain he'd be sleeping in the sand tonight. It still gave him time to see what few living spaces there were, and at last, other arrivals.

He pauses in the street, not hiding, but going very quiet as the brim of his hat tips up a bit more to allow him to see a very strange sight indeed. He trusted the staff to sound if there was danger in these people, but he still found some of his instincts hard to fight. There was the man with eyes sewn shut, the woman in colorful fabrics, and the head on a stick. Anubis' eyes narrow when he swears that face on the stick moves. The cane and the warrior monk watch each other carefully, Anubis making no effort to hide any of this, or himself, as they walk down the street in his direction.