And then there was the sour apple of the group.  Perched atop his steed sat the most hateful looking specimen of a samurai that one could ever hope for.  Quiet as he looked this way and that under the wide brim of his straw hat he would hmmph slightly to what the Dragon had to say to them about seeing the governor first.  His coal like eyes would narrow at any and everything that looked his way.  As if in his own way passing some method of judgement upon the gazing eyes of nearby wanderers within the walls of the city.  Yes, Soshi Hashimoto, a scorpion bushi that was short on words and even shorter on tolerance when it came to dealing with others.  Resting at his side was his weapon of choice Shosuro Blade, a katana of grand design which he takes immense care of.  For now he sat upon his horse and took in his surroundings.  His face never changing if any it got alot darker not brighter, with its ever present scowl that matched the colors of his red and black light armor.  Lean and athletic is his frame hidden under the armor, that had been honed for lightning fast strikes and quick reflexes.