Guard Harlbeck of Bastone approaches you, frustration on his face as you settle down to your mushroom porridge and hard biscuit breakfast.

"Never thought I'd see the day they turn away a sword arm because of a little gray. I was killing things that would turn their hair white before those pups were even born but they won't have me," the old guard says as he sits down stiffly. You raise an eyebrow implying 'who?' "The Watch, I've been trying to find a Captain who sees sense but there's less than half a pair between 'um," Harlbeck says gruffly. You look over the old wardog, the scars on his face, a tapestry of old glories and times he had survived what so many others had not. You can see he needs a purpose and you could use an armsman, someone to keep the peace and tend the armory. However, since the fall of Bastone he has taken hard to the drink, and a lifetime of reacting with violence may be more of a liability than a help.