Country Boy

Appearance -

·       Gender: Male

·       Race: Human

·       Height: 6′0″

·       Age: Mid 20′s

·       Eye Color: Light Blue

·       Hair Color: Dirty Blond

·       Notable Scars/Marks:  Usually has a bit of a farmer’s tan, has cigarette burn scars mostly focused on his chest, calloused hands, freckles.

·       Tattoos/Piercings: None

The Facts -

·       Occupation:  Farmhand for a small farm in Elwynn Forest

·       Sexual identification: Straight

·       Alignment: Neutral Good.

·       Family:   Garrick Goodwin (Father), died prior to his birth. Clara Goodwin (Mother) died during childbirth, leaving him an orphan.

·       Relationship Status: Single

Favorites –

·       Favorite food: Pot roast, pot pies - anything hearty and filling!

·       Favorite drink: Dwarven ale

·       Favorite scents:  Sunflowers, freshly clipped grass, the beach, bakeries, hay bales

·       Favorite person:  Aurelia, the daughter of the Padley’s, the couple he works for! She is most definitely Rhys’s and Mrs. Padley’s daughter, but it would scandalous to admit that aloud!

Randoms –

Ten facts about your muse:

⚫  He didn’t speak until the age of ten for an unknown reason.  He had the capability to do so, he just never did!

⚫  He was never adopted from the orphanage, so when he aged out at 18 last year they set him up with a job and a place to stay on a farm in Westfall.

⚫  Growing up he was always very small and scrawny for his age which led him to getting bullied a lot.  He was a late bloomer, so it wasn’t until the age of almost 16 that he finally hit a growth spurt and filled out.  He’s nearly unrecognizable now from what he was then.

⚫   The general education system did not do him any good.  He had a hard time learning in that atmosphere so he barely scraped by.  It’s not that he’s stupid (although he would think otherwise), he just isn’t able to learn by book and is better with hands on experience.  

⚫   He would be one of the current main stars in ‘The Housewives of Elwynn Forest’. He’s created quite a name for himself among the farmer’s wives.

⚫   He adores stargazing!  He’s becoming slowly familiar with the constellations but mostly just likes to lay out under the Westfall night sky and stare for hours.

⚫    He lives in a barn.  Technically on the 2nd floor of a barn that was meant to be a living space, but still inside the barn itself!  It’s a small efficiency style apartment, but he doesn’t have a lot of stuff anyways so it works well for him!  He gets his own space and privacy, that’s all he needs!

⚫   He adores animals of all varieties, and in return they seem to adore him just as much!  Most animals are quick to trust and get along with him.

⚫   He’s got an amazing green thumb and has been able to grow some pretty impressively sized fruit, vegetables, and flowers!

⚫   He can read, but he’s extremely slow at it, often times tripping up on the larger words.  He keeps a dictionary near him whenever he’s reading a book to look things up he doesn’t the meaning of!

Five Things -

Good traits/habits:

Polite Punctual Friendly Honest Loyal

Bad traits/habits:

Inarticulate Reserved Stupid (at least he thinks so) Absent-minded Impulsive

Personalities they gravitate toward:

Optimistic Creative Genuine Generous Persuasive

Personality types they avoid:

Narrow-minded Pompous Disrespectful Bullying types Cold

Fears:

Never making anything of his life Cemeteries Never being loved The Legion returning Making a fool of himself

A Very Normal Day (According to Rhys)

Rhys woke to a clear sky, a warm breeze, and a long list of small repair jobs he had agreed to help with around the neighboring farms. 

A normal day. A simple, quiet, and predictable day. He really should have known better.

Stop One: The Verners and The Window That Was Definitely Fine

He knocked gently before stepping into the Verners’ kitchen, and Mrs. Verner lit up like she had just spotted a rare celestial event. “Rhys, darling, my hero! The window is in crisis.”

He inspected it. The window was open. Not broken, not jammed. Not even squeaky. Just…open.

“This happens if the latch isn’t clicked,” he said softly as he closed it.

“Oh, you’re so clever.” She leaned against the counter, tilting her head. “A man who knows his way around a hinge, very impressive.”

Rhys nodded, thinking she meant he explained it well. “It’s not hard, I can show you.”

“Not hard? Shame, but trust me,” she murmured, “I’m very interested in hands-on demonstrations.”

He didn’t understand what was so interesting about latches, but he was happy she was learning. He picked up his toolbox. “I can look at the shed next,” he offered.

“That won’t be necessary today, but come by tomorrow? And-” she slipped something into his hand “-take this as thanks.”

It was a handkerchief. With her initials embroidered…alongside a heart. He assumed she gave everyone those. Probably.

Stop Two: The Clarke Farm and The Eternal Laundry Line Saga

Mrs. Clarke was already outside, already smiling, already leaning a bit too dramatically on the fence in her low-cut blouse. “Rhys, sweetheart, the line fell again.”

Fell was generous. It dipped slightly under the weight of one towel. He lifted it and tied the knot tighter. Easy.

“Oh, bless you,” she sighed. “If only all men were so good with knots.”

He blinked. “Um. Thank you?”

“And with rope.”

“…You’re welcome?”

She patted his forearm, and then his chest. Slowly…repeatedly. Like she was checking for muscle groups. “You know,” she said, voice dropping, “if you ever want a home-cooked meal, I make a mean roast. Just for someone strong like you.”

“I already ate breakfast,” he replied honestly.

Her face shifted into a look normally reserved for widows in tragedies. “Well, you let me know if you get hungry again.”

Rhys nodded, promising he would, because he would get hungry again. Probably at dinner.

She sighed like he had just recited poetry.

Stop Three: The Farners and The “Broken” Storage Room (It Was Not Broken)

Rhys didn’t even make it to the door before Mrs. Farner stepped out with a slow smile. “Rhys,” she purred. “Just the man I wanted.”

He felt a warm rush of embarrassment and looked down. People saying he was wanted always flustered him. He wasn’t used to it.

She pointed dramatically at the storage room. “The door is stuck.”

He tugged the handle. It opened easily.

“Oh,” he said politely, “I think maybe you just didn’t pull hard enough.”

“I prefer when you do the pulling,” she replied, leaning in. Another button on her blouse had been undone.

He stepped back because she was standing very close and he didn’t want to bump into her. “Uhh, need anything else fixed?”

“Well…” Her gaze dipped down his torso. “There’s a nail jutting out…in my bedroom. It needs hammering.”

Rhys brightened. “Oh! That’s dangerous. I can fix that.”

Her expression flickered between triumph and disbelief. “Yes,” she whispered, “come by later. After dark.”

“Sure,” he said cheerfully. “I can hammer it anytime.”

She needed a moment to recover.

Stop Four: The Millers and The Actual Real Problem…Mostly 

Mrs. Miller greeted him with frantic waving. “The grain feeder jammed! Oh Rhys, thank goodness you’re here.”

Finally, something that was actually broken. He climbed the chute, kicked it free, and grain flowed again. Mrs. Miller stood behind him and watched very closely.

“You’re incredible,” Mrs. Miller breathed, stepping up to dust grain from his hair. “Such a hard worker. Such strong hands. Such…everything.”

He tensed, physical praise always made him nervous. “It’s just a chute,” he mumbled.

“You’re modest,” she said, still stroking his hair. “Don’t ever change, sunshine.”

He flushed scarlet at the nickname. He didn’t know what to do with that. Or with the way she stared at him like she was trying to memorize his freckles. “I should get going,” he said, retreating carefully.

“Come back anytime,” she called, voice warm and wistful. “Preferably when my husband’s out hunting!”

He assumed she meant the chute might break again.

Home Again

By the time he reached the Padley farm, the sky was turning gold and the shadows stretched long across the field. He was exhausted. Not from the work, but from the conversations. Why did everyone look at him like he was hiding something impressive? He really wasn’t, he was just a farmhand who fixed things.

He set down his tools, rubbed the back of his neck, and looked over his sunflowers as a soft breeze moved through them. A peaceful end to another weird day. Still, he couldn’t deny the quiet warmth in his chest. People needed him, trusted him, and called on him. Even if he didn’t fully understand why some of them stared so hard.

He leaned on the fence and exhaled, maybe tomorrow would be quieter. He doubted it, but he could hope.