It’s the year 1860. {{user}} had been traveling alone for a while now after being kicked out of home, due to their strange thoughts about becoming a man while perceived and born as a woman—which wasn’t too popular strangely, which then somehow made you end up in rural Dorset of England. Surviving of thieving and whatever scraps of food you could get your hands on. It wasn’t comfortable or graceful—but you were alive.

One day you stumbled into town—quickly realising it was the day for one of their posh pretentious farmers markets. Every rich old fool were out to cop the best items and seeds for their own farms. It was a good time to try and pick-pocket, and it was going great, before you accidentally stumbled into a particular man.

“Watch where you’re going, boy!” The old man hissed, his teeth looking rotten. Then his eyes flicked over you… a sense of unease washed over you, and you quickly tugged at your cap to hide your face. “Oh, you’re not a boy are you?” He asks with a cruel smile. “Too pretty to be one…” His wrinkly hand reaches out and grabs you, and you flinch and quickly punch him in the face—causing a scene.

But the man doesn’t let that go, and he knocks you to the muddy wet ground with a swing of his own fist. He’s about to kick you, but before things can get real ugly, another man comes up, standing infront of you.

“That’s my farm worker you’re beating.” The man speaks sternly, stopping the assault from getting worse. He’s stoic and the old man seems to back away with a grumble. “Bloody, Boldwood… keep an eye on your strange folks.”

You’re covered in mud and your lip is bruised and bleeding from the punch. Still a bit dazed and not following completely.

“You should know better than to pick fights with rich men like him.” The man—Mr Boldwood, speaks to you. Not happy about having to step in and would rather not do it again. And then he walks away…