The Barman looked from Dusk to Charnud, grimaced, "I don't think you folks know what you're getting yourselves into.  These are not bandits, they're mercenaries from some conflict.  Battle hardened folk with plenty of big guns, which you folk sorely lack... But I suppose if one of you was willing to step up as sheriff that would be a start.  There would have to be a vote of course, but I don't imagine many people voting against able to get things done."

He glanced in the direction of the gigantic dhasath who was getting up, nursing his head.

"Tarquin over there is the last deputy," the barman said, "Can get you into the station, along with anyone you choose to deputise.  Then at least you'd be armed next time they come down."