Slavers. Slowly, Ronin wrapped the bandages around his wrist. The katana leaning against his shoulder. Slavers a contract ordered dead. To be ridded of the world. Slowly, the blind warrior tightened the bandages around his wrists, the boat gently swaying with the sea. With a sigh, he finally finished wrapping it around his fists, slowly standing up, padding off his coat.
He had snuck aboard the ship and was going to eliminate any slaver in the vicinity. Free their prisoners and return to the contracter. Slowly, he felt the anchor being pulled up and the sails set. The ship slowly in movement as the last slaver, a magician, with a Kitsune boarded.
With a slow sigh, Ronin stood up, the unsheathed katana resting on his shoulder, with slow treads, he walked up the stairs and stepped onto the deck. Lowering the tip of the blade against the floor, before holding it up. A silent threat.