It is more of a shock than a depression that swept over Juer following the days after his quest had begun, without warning and without remorse being removed from his home and sent on a quest with nothing but ink and what he had learned. The first day was the longest, worried his skin would blister in the sun, with nothing to hide his shame, he took to robbery to feed himself his first meal and stripped the merchant of his robe in order to dress himself. Now at least half presentable to the outside world, he was faced with the daunting question of what to do next.
He took what he had needed from the merchant and nothing else, awkwardly finding out as he went how difficult it was to do anything with the tattoos providing immediate reminders whenever he tried to touch anything, even lowering his hands to the ground would cause the grains of sand to shift around, avoiding his touch. He decided it was best to try and find the closest civilization he could and get to work learning what he must, so that he may return home and be the leader that he was born to be.
It took a day or two of straight walking, no protection on his feet meant terrible sores and rashes, rubbed raw by the burning hot grains of sand, the moment he stepped foot on ground shaded by a building he was shocked, the cool stone under his feet doing little to sooth him, the village he found himself in was hardly what he was looking fore, a disjointed path of rocks leading though a small outpost, hardly even worthy of stopping for most travelers. But Juer was not most travelers. People looked on as they saw the tall stranger walk barefoot though town, scared to speak to him outright. Juer looked for anything that could he used to help him before he would force himself to abandon hope in this strange place and move on again, seeing no importance in shelter for the night, having no fear of the desert nights.