The guild hall hummed with warmth and life. Lanterns swung gently from iron hooks, their light flickering across polished oak beams. Each creak of the massive double doors sent a cool draft rolling through the room, carrying the scent of ale, sweat, and steel. Adventurers crowded the long wooden tables, some sharpening blades, others laughing over tall mugs, a few hunched over the quest board where fresh notices were pinned.
Near the entrance, a pair of golden eyes scanned the crowd. Shizu's tail flicked lazily, her ears twitching at every laugh and clatter of mug. "There," she murmured softly. "I see them." She wove through the crowd with quiet grace, her gaze fixed on a table near the hall's center. Behind her walked Shiro, a man of middle years whose calm presence drew more respect than notice. His black hair, touched faintly by grey, fell across his brow as his hand rested near the hilt of his katana, thumb poised to draw at the first hint of trouble.
At the table, a towering figure clad in fur and iron roared with laughter, the sound booming like thunder. A tankard toppled from his hand, spilling ale across the floor, but he only grinned wider. Beside him sat a slender woman cloaked in shadow, her hood low, fingers flicking coins in a rhythmic dance. Alana, sharp-eyed and sharper-minded, surveyed the room with practiced caution.
Shizu approached and dipped her head. "Greetings. You must be Svend and Alana. We are here for the goblin extermination contract."
The giant's laughter faded to a rumble as his eyes swept over the newcomers. "Aye," he said, folding his arms across his chest. "I am Svend. And who might you be, little shadow cat?" His tone was teasing but not unkind.
Alana's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Seems the guild decided to pair us together," she said, spinning a dagger between her fingers. "Let's hope you're worth your share of gold."
Shizu's tail swayed with quiet amusement. "I am Shizu," she said softly. "A mage of unpredictable arts. And this is Shiro-dono, ronin of wandering blades."
The group exchanged nods, each measuring the others with unspoken curiosity. Svend cracked his knuckles, Alana tucked her dagger away with a sly grin, and Shizu's ears twitched with restrained excitement.
Shiro stepped forward, calm and deliberate. "As Shizu-chan said, I am Shiro, a ronin. Before we set out, we should understand one another's strengths and weaknesses. Planning wisely will serve us best. If no one minds, I'll begin."
Svend and Alana regarded him silently. Though shorter than the berserker, Shiro's quiet presence commanded attention. His black eastern-style garb hung loose over his frame, the curved blade at his waist gleaming faintly. There was something in his eyes, a steady fire forged by long years and bloodshed.
Shizu smiled, tail curling contentedly. "Very wise, Shiro-dono. A sword swings truer when its wielder knows the hearts beside it."
Svend threw back his head and laughed. "Hah! A ronin who plans! Better than most sellswords I've met. Speak, samurai. Let's hear what kind of man wields that steel."
Alana leaned back, fingers tapping on her dagger's hilt. "Knowing who might save your hide, or leave you bleeding in the mud, is good business," she said, smirking.
Shizu tilted her head toward Shiro. "Go on, Shiro-dono. Tell us of your blade and your way. What kind of ronin walks beneath no banner?"
Shiro bowed slightly, dark hair falling forward for a moment. When he rose, his voice was calm. He spared them the story of his past but explained that he was trained with all blades, favoring close combat. His katana was his trusted companion.
He wore no armor, only a simple yukata, choosing speed and stealth over protection. He could fight unarmed, using grappling techniques to throw and subdue enemies. Every movement was meant to close the distance quickly and strike with precision.
With quiet honesty, he admitted his weakness against ranged enemies. If he could not close the distance, his advantage faded. Shiro's eyes swept the group, studying their reactions.
Svend chuckled, slamming a fist on the table, rattling mugs. "Hah, I like this one. No armor, no fear. You fight like a true northerner, relying on skill rather than metal. Stay close, little ronin. I'll crush whatever stands beyond your reach."
Alana smirked, spinning a dagger between her fingers. "So you fight up close. I'll make sure they never see you coming. Ranged foes are a problem, but I'm good at keeping them from standing long."
Shizu folded her hands, tail swishing lazily. "Then that leaves me, hm? I am Shizu, mage of illusions and moonlight. My magic confuses, blinds, and hides. I can weave mists, make phantoms to draw arrows, or trap enemies in dreams they cannot wake from." Her ears drooped briefly. "But my body is not as strong as yours. If I'm caught, it is trouble, nya."
She straightened, tail flicking brightly. "So then, the ronin's blade, the berserker's fury, the thief's daggers, and my illusions. Four paths, one hunt."
Shiro looked each of them over as he spoke. "Our group is well rounded. The goblins likely will not see us coming until it is too late. Our best chance is to ambush them in their cave so they cannot surround us. Alana and I will scout ahead while Svend and Shizu follow behind. We will use their lair against them, forcing them to face us in small groups. Any suggestions or objections so far?"
He paused, and his expression hardened with something like grief. "One last thing to consider. Goblins are vile creatures that live on impulse. If they overpower us, the men would be killed, but the women could suffer a far worse fate. Goblins sometimes capture women for mating and keep them alive as long as possible for reproduction. If given the choice, it may be better to die with your honor."
The words hung in the hall, heavy and cold. Shiro drifted off as if drawn back to a memory, and for a long moment the light in his eyes was edged with both anger and sorrow.