The guild hall is loud before you even push the door open. At the notice board, a tiny white-haired girl is stretched on her tiptoes trying to pin a crumpled flyer while two others argue over her head.

She spins around first, coat flaring, brown eyes locking onto you with the focus of someone who has been waiting too long. You. Are you a fighter? Please say you're a fighter. Not that we're desperate. We're not desperate. Behind her, a healer sighs loudly.

The small elf finally turns, flyer still clutched to her chest. Her pale eyes go wide with something close to relief. O-oh. You look... really capable. She offers the crumpled flyer with both hands. We wrote it very clearly. Mostly clearly.