Weird ahh noises

Eina considered herself to be a good person. This was why she worked at the Guild. Not because it was easy, not because she couldn't do anything else, and Gods knew it wasn't because of the pay. No, she worked at the Guild to help people, nothing more, nothing less.

But some days... she wished she wasn't so kind.

She watched in silence as the man in front of her bawled his eyes out, hiccuping and sobbing.

"He was like a brother to me... how could this happen? How will his family put bread on the table?"

Eina looked at him with an expressionless face. "For the last time, sir... the guild only provides monetary relief for the families of adventurers if the persons in question demand it themselves."

The man's sobbing stopped abruptly, replaced by a scowl. He spat on the ground and left, muttering, "The bastard owed me 10,000 valis. Fuck, I'll never recover from this. Fuck, I barely got 2,000 for all his gear..."

Eina let out a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her soul. It was the kind of sigh that made you wonder if she was exhaling her will to live along with the air in her lungs. "I'm taking a break," she announced to no one in particular.

She shuffled into the common office behind the counters, a room buzzing with activity. Guild workers darted back and forth, arms laden with valis, loot drops from adventurers who'd exchanged them for said valis, or papers. Gods, so many papers. 

The rustle of documents and the clink of coins formed a constant background noise, punctuated by the occasional frustrated groan from an overworked staff member.

Eina collapsed into a chair, covering her mouth with her hands. She groaned something incomprehensible about "Soma familia trash" and "where's a cute guy to cheer me up when I need him" before finally rising from her chair, ready for another round of madness.

That's when she spotted her friend, Misha, hunched over her desk. Papers were sprawled across every inch of the surface, and Misha was pulling at her pink hair like she was trying to uproot it.

Eina smirked inwardly. She knew those papers. Reports of hellish screams followed by what appeared to be infighting amongst monsters on the 12th floor. Imps seemed to be the most likely culprits, as most monsters appeared to have been killed by claw strikes.

She sauntered over to Misha's desk, leaning against it with a casual air that belied her earlier frustration. "So, how's the monster drama going?"

Misha looked up, her eyes wild. "Eina! Thank the gods you're here. I'm losing my mind over this!"

"Monsters fighting each other again?" Eina asked, picking up one of the reports and skimming it.

"Yeah, but this time it's different. The reports... they're just weird." Misha shoved a paper towards Eina. "Look at this. One adventurer swears he saw a...green imp doing a victory dance over a dead orc."

Eina snorted. "Maybe the imp found some Soma wine down there."

"Ha ha," Misha said dryly. "But seriously, what do I do? Do I post a quest? Send a first-class adventurer to check it out? What if it's nothing and I waste everyone's time?"

Eina tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, it's not like monster infighting is rare. Remember last month when we thought a minotaur had gone berserk, and it turned out two of them were just fighting over a shiny rock?"

Misha groaned, letting her head thump onto her desk. "Don't remind me. I still get dirty looks from the Ganesha Familia for that wild goose chase."

"Look," Eina said, patting Misha's shoulder, "why don't you compile all the weirdest reports and we'll take them to Royman? Let him decide if it's worth sending someone down there."

Misha perked up. "You're right! If it turns out to be nothing, it's on him!"

"That's the spirit," Eina chuckled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my post. There's probably another Soma familia member waiting to sob over their 'brother' who conveniently owed them money."

As Eina walked back to her station, she couldn't help but smile. Sure, her job was frustrating sometimes, but at least it was never boring. And who knew? Maybe a certain white-haired adventurer would show up and brighten her day.

.

.

.

.

 Goblin trudged through the dimly lit caverns of the 8th floor, his eyes puffy and swollen. He grunted, yanking the limp purple Moth behind him. The insect's wings dragged along the rocky ground, leaving a faint trail of purple dust.

Every few steps, the Moth would let out a weak screech, its antennae twitching feebly. The goblin paid it no mind, focused solely on his task: bringing this creature to the Man.

As he rounded a corner, the goblin suddenly froze. Something felt... different. The usual burning sensation on his skin, courtesy the purple thing's poison, seemed less intense. It was like going from a hot bath to lukewarm water - noticeable, but not earth-shattering.

He blinked, confused. Then, in a very un-goblin-like gesture, he shrugged. It was a movement he'd seen the Man do a couple times.

The goblin scratched his head, looked down at his captive, then continued on his way. He had a job to do, and by the gods (he still didn't really understand what they were) he was going to do it.

The Man was waiting, after all, and you didn't keep the Man waiting. Of course, that was exactly when a few purple-clothed humans suddenly appeared from around a corner and froze as they saw him.

Were they attracted by the purple thing? It seemed plausible.

Golbin attempted to ignore them. He had important work to do, after all, but as the humans started shouting in that incomprehensible language of theirs, Golbin realized he wasn't walking away without a fight. 

He sighed, (another new gesture he learned) dropped the moth on the ground, and drew his steel.