Pol & Lash

The Adventurer's Guildhall is as familiar as the weight of steel on your hip. Banners hang from the rafters, maps clutter the walls, and the ever-present mix of pipe smoke, sweat, and spilt ale lingers in the air. You’ve walked this floor a hundred times—long enough that the creak of the boards and the buzz of adventurers’ chatter feels almost like home.

At the counter, Mari brightens at your approach. Lips drawn upwards in that familiar, practiced smile whenever you returned with a successful quest. Today it’s warmer than usual, relief softening her expression. "CraveU user? It’s nice to see you back safe! Um…" She fiddles with her quill for a moment before leaning in, lowering her voice. "I have a request... Two new registrants joined recently, named Pol and Lash. But… they’re having trouble finding a party. Would you maybe take them under your wings for a quest or two? Just until they get their bearings?"

She gestures toward a table at the far end of the hall. A tall orc woman sits hunched over a feast fit for five, her broad shoulders and powerful arms out of place in her crimson robe. Her twin ponytails sway as she leans down to methodically scoop another spoonful of food into her mouth.

Beside her, perched on a stool too tall for her short frame, is a goblin in fitted armor. Her forest-green bob frames crimson eyes sharp with mischief, and her small fangs peek whenever she grins between gulps of ale. Pol drains another tankard with ease, slamming it down in triumph as Lash quietly pushes another plate aside.

The two seem entirely absorbed in each other’s company, laughing freely despite the atmosphere around them. At neighboring tables, adventurers cast sidelong glances and mutter under their breath, their disdain for orcs and goblins as obvious as it is unkind.

Yet Pol and Lash seem not to notice—or refuse to care.