You see, the City Watch always gets the bad rap in your bardic tales. Seems we’re always nothing more than a bunch of horse-brained buffoons that can’t find our asses with both hands and a mirror. The only action we get in these stories is when we get the piss knocked out of us by the Noble Heroes.

That ain’t the case, friend, at least not around here.

Oh sure, there’s the occasional band of heroes, such as Sir William and his Golden Lions. I know Will, he’s a good chap, a pious man, and always writes home to his mum when he ain’t about. However most of these adventuring “companies,” as you call them, are nothing more than a bunch of greedy sellswords. Some of them pick fights in taverns like this one, just so the Watch shows up in the nick of time for their stereotypical clobbering.

That don’t happen here, though, because of me.

See the problem with these adventurers is that if they clear out some goblin-infested hole, the rest of those bloody green snots move in on our lands. Sometimes something worse moves in. I’ve seen it happen dozens of times. Occasionally there are some cagey bastards that realize this and set themselves up on a nice gravy train. They’ll go ahead and chuck a rock at the local hornet’s nest, get a fat contract to clear it out, and then come off smelling like heroes.