The figure that headed into the Myrkenwood Constabulary was... Well, if you weren't used to seeing veteran warriors, even young ones, he was fairly imposing. Six feet of muscle, bone, and sinew, wrapped up in weather-tanned skin and callouses. He wore his full armour today... An effective patchwork of leather, chain, and plate that looked to have seen more use than the apparent youth of the fellow might indicate. Oh yeah, and he's practically a walking arsenal. Bow, greatsword, dagger, spiked knuckles... And that was just what could be seen.
"Oy, mate," Arthus wore a grin that was open, honest, and quite jovial despite his violent regalia as he called to the clerk at the desk, "Heard y'all needed a good sword-arm ta he'p yer boys out wi' some head stompin', aye?" The youth reached into his belt pouch and drew out one of the fliers from around town, the one advertising that the constabulary was seeking new bodies to help uphold the laws of Myrkenwood. "Got me some s'perience keepin' folk peaceful, figgered iff'n I's gonna be 'round here, may's well earn mesel' some gold doin' somethin' I like, aye? Who does I see 'bout gettin' in, eh?"