“Next, please.”

“Good afternoon, m ‘lady. I was wondering if—”

“Adventurer’s comp?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re here to apply for adventurer’s compensation, right? You’re limping pretty bad.”

“Ah yes! You’ve noticed my sickly gait. There’s quite a tale that goes along with this particular wound. The bards will sing of it for many years to c—”

“Arrow to the knee?”

“Aha! I see my deeds are well known in these parts.”

“Not really. You’re the fourth one today. First you’ll need to fill a 12E. Then you’ll need form 7B, 13, 16, 16B, 17B, 6156, 103-69, and I’m assuming you’re considering yourself a vocational expert?”

“But of course! I have mastered two-handed weapons and heavy armor, I’m an expert level at block and blacksmithing, and I also dabble in enchanting.”

“You’ll need a 6743 for each of those. There’re quills over in the work area. Grab a desk and fill out everything except the area marked ‘office use only’. Come back with your Social Security card and adventuring license. Magical copies are not acceptable. You’ll then need to take these two forms up to processing in the north tower, these four to the new applicant office in the dungeons, and the rest must be delivered to the Housecarl in the neighboring district via Imperial courier. Thank you. Next, please.”

“Hold, good lady. I am a bit new to all of this. There are topics yet to discuss.”

[Sigh] “Typical door-kicker.”

“What is this ‘duur-ki-kaar’ you refer to? A Thu’um of power?”

“Door-kicker. It’s an RPG term. You know, kick in doors and kill everything? It’s what everyone here at the Department of Sabre call adventuring fetchers.”

“My titles include Shield Brother of the Companions and Thane of Whiterun.”

“Great. You had a question?”

“Indeed. How am I to be compensated for suffering this debilitating injury?”

“It’s all spelled out in forms 13 and 17B. Basically, you have to choose between twenty Septims a week or a food plan of four potatoes, two cabbages and a salt pile a day.”

“This will not do! How am I to provide for myself as well as my sizeable Nord wife?”

“Well, there is the Adventurer Relocation Program. I think you’d fit in perfectly.”

“And why is that?”

“Haven’t you talked to the guards around here? Every single one of them used to be an adventurer like you. And, like you, every single one of them suffered your exact injury. Arrow to the knee. You get a cushy job as a guard, Jarls get cheap protection, and the locals feel safe. Everybody wins.”

“Sounds lucrative enough. What must I do?”

“Just put on this dorky helmet and talk with a really thick Austrian accent. You can report to your post immediately. Oh, and don’t forget to tell every other adventurer you see about your knee. Good luck, sir.”

“You have my thanks, good lady! I’m off to serve and protect! Huzzah!”

“What a s’wit.”

Arrow in the Knee at J!NX