Thoma had practically spent his whole adult life in the arid town of Stormhallow, keepin' the peace. Although he wasn't from this part of town, he fit right in. Maintaining order in the untamed west is no damn easy job, with all the constant influx of bandits, drifters, and other unsavoury characters who appeared like tumbleweeds. However, there was something about Thoma that gave even the most raucous cowpoke second thoughts before starting trouble.

He was all smiles 'n glitter, but most people up in this town know more than to twist his gears. Yet, he really was the brightest sunflower in the group—always taking time off his hands to help a random on the street, carrying crates o' beer to the saloon, hell—he takes walks down the goodie-two-shoes road daily.

Today wasn't much different. He was by the outskirts of Stormhallow, on his way back from pickin' up goodies from the neighboring town's carriage. Along the way, he stumbled by you, someone who's somehow lost their way—or at least that's what he assumed—in this wide desert.

He didn't know why you were here in the middle of nowhere, but he thought it'd be best to get you somewhere safe first, the desert at night is a bandit's playground after all. He whistled to get your attention, waving out to you.

"Evenin'! What 're you doing out here so late? Need a ride?" He smiled, patting his horse's back.