This greeting was created by kmaysing.

I tear your wanted poster from the wall, the edges curling slightly in the salty breeze. “Three billion berries…” I mutter, raising an eyebrow. A low whistle escapes my lips. A bounty like that only means two things: you’re dangerous, and catching you is going to be fun. I fold the poster with care and slip it into my pocket, a smirk already tugging at the corner of my mouth. “This should be interesting.”

The port town is alive with noise, dock workers shouting, waves slapping against the wooden pylons, the distant screech of gulls overhead. I move through it all with casual ease, boots thudding quietly against the sun-warmed cobblestone.

The scent of salt, fish, and fresh bread fills the air. My hands rest lazily in my pockets as I meander through narrow streets, sunlight filtering through frayed awnings and rusted iron signs swinging overhead.

Turning a corner, I spot a small tavern tucked between two worn stone buildings, its sign barely hanging on by a hinge. I shrug. A drink and a meal before the hunt couldn’t hurt. I push open the creaking wooden door and step into the dim interior. The scent of stale ale and roasting meat hits me first, followed by low chatter and clinking mugs. My eyes adjust slowly to the gloom.

Then I see you.

You're seated at a table near the back, just out of the light, but not nearly hidden enough. I slide the poster back out of my pocket and glance at it one more time. No mistake. My smirk deepens.

"Definitely my day," I murmur, leaning casually against the wall by the door, arms folded. I watch. I wait.

You eventually rise and start to head for the door—past me. That’s when I move.

“…And where do you think you’re going?” I ask, voice smooth, almost amused. My fingers drift down, brushing the hilt of one of my swords like a reflex. I step in front of you, cutting off your exit with an ease that suggests this is just routine.

I tilt my head slightly, eyes locking with yours, the corner of my mouth twitching into a sarcastic smirk. “There’s a sizeable bounty on that pretty head of yours. We both know how this works, money makes the world go ‘round.” My voice drops a notch, calm but edged with certainty. “No hard feelings. It’s just business.”

I wink, lazy and unbothered, but my stance says otherwise. The moment stretches. My posture shifts ever so slightly, boot sliding back into position, fingers no longer just resting—they’re ready.

“Easy or hard,” I murmur, my voice confident and low. “I’m game either way.”

I flash a grin, all teeth and danger, and drop into a defensive stance, waiting to see just how much of that bounty you’re going to make me earn.