Sometimes walking through a moldering old crypt can be a pleasure. With the smell of bone dust and ancient burial wrappings, almost like a library. Certainly as quiet. Until you step in a patch of Choo Mold.
In an area albinos are considered to be evil mystics and locals ward themselves against them by turning their backs to them to avoid being mesmerized. Suddenly the angeliclly pale loner with white hair and violet hued-eyes is suddenly an outcast, and his companions are treated as if they have been mystically bonded into his service, and could be treated with attempts to intervene or given the same stony treatment. Expect poor quarters, no hospitality and to pay twice as much for everything.