The Hierarch of Needs moves amongst the city streets.

To the poor, He brings shelter; to the hungry, sustenance. To the lonely, He sits for a while, speaks softly, laughs like a bell ringing across a misty morning, and leaves them warmed.

He is not all-seeing, but the Needs of the many are too often written in their poverty, on their faces, in the burdens they carry. When He is unsure, He asks, and if it is within His domain to provide, He does so.

His resources are not endless, His time still bound by mortal coil, His footsteps lingering in the dust. The eddies of Desperation which rise from the city pain Him, the huddled masses yearning for a life not of luxury, but of relief.

And when His path draws him to Those Who Live In Plenty - yet still burn with Need - He tells them of the people of the city, and asks them to join Him.

Perhaps a little humanity may sate the Need that all their Plenty could not.