Tomas Maximus was born in 1760 on the 5th day of ‘The Deep Cold’, he was born to a poor highlander farmer with few prospects named Jon Maximus. He was an only child, but was brought up with the traditional Church of the Canon, Like his father before him, and his fathers and so on.
Being born into this environment, he grew into his lot of life, he helped his father tend to the farm alongside his mother. On his 13th birthday, the farm was attacked by raiders. The farm was decimated and his family home scorched. Both his mother and father were slaughtered at front of his very eyes. He managed to flee, running through the fields for days, eating wild berries to survive. This experience gave Tomas underlying trauma, yet he also learned to Survive. When Tomas had lost all hope, he suddenly came across a man in a wagon, Tomas was gasping for water as he begged the man. The man gave him a small water-skin and Tomas drank the fresh water down. The man gave Tomas a ride to the closest settlement, but what this was no mere village. Tomas saw up ahead on the road, tall bustling towers made of stone and rock, no type of buildings he has ever seen before. This was the city of Haense.
After laying waste on the streets, he eventually found work. He was made to dig out iron ore and coal from the city’s mines, he was tasked with other younger children, bringing the raw ore to storage to be later processed.
When Tomas entered his late teens, he worked deeper in the mines with the men, pickaxe in hand and through years of hard work and semi-starvation, he developed a lean body, taut and toned. He often wished to join the middle class and to learn a trade, to escape the life of poverty and often times felt trapped by his lot in life. Tomas spoke with a fellow miner, he told him that he could find glory and honour by joining the city’s army. Even a poor miner like himself could rise to a position of high regard. (And so his story begins)
I look at the man with and assess him with a squint. He Looks harmless, but I must be careful in this place.
“What’s it to you, Stranger”.
The man looks slightly disconcerted. “I- I mean n- I didn’t mean to be rude sir. I apologise”
I stop squinting and smile at the man to reassure him.
The man smiles back in relief.
I ask the man “I’ve travelled long and far, past the depths of the black ocean’s, through the sludge of the grey marshlands, and I’ve got no socks. Know where I can find a drink?”
The man looks more than happy to show me around, he gestures me to follow him. “Right this way sir, I know just the place! What’s ya’ poison?”
“A sweet, cold berry cider, my good man”.
The man leads me down further into the bazaar towards the local tavern where singing and chatter pours from its doors.
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