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Known by many names, under more than a few owners, the plot of land located on the edges of Bluewater Marsh has certainly seen better days. Known to most by its previous names of the Aberdeen Pig Farm or Freedom Fields, now rebranded Bogview Farm is a small homestead boasting good soil for cabbage, potato and other vegetables. Acquired by John Sallow, a perpetually grumpy and angry longshoreman from Saint Denis, the downtrodden farm is slowly finding its footing again with few helping hands. Over the summer of 1900, many steps were taken to revitalize the desolate household. From a new herd of pigs, to expansion of arable soil and new workforce to boot, the farm saw growth. The efforts saw the result overtime as Bogview formed more and more trade relations with farms and ranches both in Lemoyne and neighboring county of New Hanover. Bogview Farm aims to portray the hard and tedious journey to bring a neglected farm back to life. Our intention is to reflect hardships - personal, economical and technological that farming faced at the dawn of the last century - with industrial tools such as the steam tractor unavailable to most farms, and an ever depleting population in the rural areas. We welcome anyone seeking a strong and dynamic RP environment. We are most active around European evening time. For any inquiries or complaints, please contact @stabsgefreiter via forum PMs. Thread or any following screens may contain graphic roleplay related to animal husbandry and hunting in the form butchering, scalding, scrapping, gutting, skinning and other processes.

OOC information - At Southfield Flats, we’re more than just a faction, we’re a community. We welcome players of all levels of roleplay experience, whether you're brand new to RP or have been crafting stories for years. Our focus is on creating a fun, immersive, and inclusive experience for everyone involved. We're here to support and guide novice roleplayers while still challenging those with advanced skills to continue honing their craft. We believe everyone has a story to tell, and Southfield Flats Farm is the perfect place to start building yours. Those that wish to be apart of this journey will need to start by interacting with us in character, however if you're having difficulty due to time zone issues or have any questions about the faction then you are invited to reach out and forum PM - @Crumpet& @Volpe Feel free to also join our Community discord - https://discord.gg/Xky2nnPY42

Shady Belle, a once-magnificent Southern plantation located in the thicket of the Bayou Nwa, has a storied past. Constructed by Joseph Charlesworth during the antebellum period, it flourished as a representation of Southern opulence, largely due to the exploitation of slave labor. However, like many estates of its era, the Civil War and its subsequent consequences left Shady Belle in a state of decay. Its formerly grand halls fell into neglect, while the surrounding swamps, inhabited by alligators, transformed into a natural fortress that attracted a different kind of resident. Over the years, bandits, squatters, and various outlaw groups took refuge in its crumbling walls. By the turn of the century, it had become the stronghold of the Dead Horses Gang. Under their ruthless reign, Shady Belle was a fortress of terror, where many lawmen met their untimely end trying to dismantle the gang. However, after the deaths of their two leading figures, Deirdre Browner and Mallory Gimble, the gang scattered to the wind, leaving Shady Belle behind. A surviving member of the gang, Jimmy Slims, resurfaced and drew new recruits to reclaim Shady Belle. The band of outlaws struck an alliance with the neighboring Trotters clan, a family known for their production and trade in moonshine. The two groups, albeit loosely organized, now run their illicit operation out of Shady Belle and formed what is now known as the 'Mossy Creek Gang'.

SWEETWATER FIELDS HISTORY:

𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚢𝚗𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙴𝚡𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛, 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚒𝚝. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝚊 𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚁𝚑𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚜, 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛. 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎-𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝, 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎, 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚛 𝙶𝚘𝚍. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖, 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚍; 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕, 𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚜. 𝙾𝚗 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚍, 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚛. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚜 𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜, 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚖. 𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚁𝚑𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚜, 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚢. 𝙰 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕, 𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙴𝚡𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜, 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚢, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝚃𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚝, 𝚊 𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎, 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚗𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕. 𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜, 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚞𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚒𝚗 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙴𝚡𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛, 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝙰𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚖'𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗. 𝙸𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙴𝚡𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗, 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚢𝚗𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛. PRELUDE 𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝙰𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚗 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙴𝚡𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛, 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚎. 𝙽𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝, 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚞𝚗. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙴𝚡𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝙰𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗 𝙲𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚢. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗, 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚕, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜, 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚟𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚢. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍, 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗, 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝, 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚐 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝙰𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎, 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚗, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚢. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚗 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙴𝚡𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗, 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚋 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜 𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚝, 𝚊 𝚜𝚢𝚖𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚎. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎, 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚙, 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚔𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚝. 𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗, 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚗𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚢. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙, 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛, 𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙴𝚡𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚠, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝙰𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎, 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑.

Born on August 15th, 1843, William Baldwin was a son of an owner of a small homestead in the county of Lemoyne, ST. His father, Edward Baldwin, was an officer and an instructor in West Point academy, was in turn the son of a participant of the American Revolutionary War. Coming from a proud lineage of officers that prized themselves of their Anglo-Saxon heritage, it came as no surprise that the son followed in the steps of his father and the father of his father, becoming an artillery officer in Lemoyne. When the first shots of the Civil War were fired, still 17 years old, William forged his papers to add an extra year to his age in order to enlist on the side of secessionists in the forming Lemoyne State militia. Dreams of quick victory and heroic adventure were soon crushed against the harsh and gruesome reality of the war. Flags of the 3rd Lemoyne Regiment (edit by wonderful @neit) It was the dreadful days of 1864 when his life took a sudden turn. First lieutenant of Artillery under the command of general Quincy T. Harris, promoted at an early age of 20 years old, and only due to severe lack of officers in the crumbling Confederate Army, he took command of the three remaining cannons of the 3rd Lemoyne Regiment during the Battle of Bolger’s Glade. Soldiers were dying all around, wounded cried their suffering and dying muttered prayers to God. Standing amidst the field of blood under the terrible storm from above and the hellfire of Northern artillery, the young lieutenant witnessed the last defeat of his native regiment. Before the Yankee shrapnel scratched against his face and the world went black around him. General Quincy T. Harris - William's commander and idol. Despite "allegedly" being a coward. Yankee's propaganda. Waking up in whatever constituted a hospital in those closing days of the war, he was decommissioned and sent home. Tried, found guilty and later pardoned by the President Andrew Johnson, William Baldwin had to find a new place in the Reconstruction Era South. Filled with bitter resentment for the “carpetbaggers, that stole the righteous victory” from the South, after years of civil education and service as a history teacher, he became a loyal supporter of the Lost Cause mythos, firmly believing the cause of the Civil War being the State’s Rights and Yankee aggression. In the years after the war, he married, had five children, became a widower, was a member of the Democratic Party and an ally to the doctrine of the New South. William Earl Balwin at the United Confederate Veterans' reunion, pictured carrying a flag of the 3rd Lemoyne Regiment, 1896. Spending many years away from his native Rhodes, he returned home in March of 1900. Here is the story of the Autumn of the life of William Earl Baldwin, man from the previous century…

𝐈𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐯: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐈𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐯, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚, 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲, 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐯'𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐲, 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝: 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐈𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐯'𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐯, 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝-𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐚, 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐢𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐲: 𝐀𝐬 𝐈𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩-𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐟𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐈𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐈𝐯𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲. 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐬 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢: 𝐈𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐯'𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲, 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐩, 𝐈𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐝𝐮𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐈𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐯 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐞, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐰 𝐞𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐈𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞, 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐈𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐯, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐞. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬. 𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐯𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. This Thread Follows Ivan Petrovich Smirnov, Wanted Criminal and Serial Killer in Russia(?)

SECOND CHANCES After facing setbacks in their pursuit of building a clinic in Blackwater, fate smiled upon them in the form of Sheriff Earl Prescott, who graciously offered them the abandoned clinic in Rhodes. The Scarlett Meadows Community Clinic emerges as a new sanctuary for the health and well-being of the local community. Formerly an underutilized space, this clinic stands as a manifestation of the shared dreams of its founders, Dra. Rebecca Barkhousen and Dr. Carlo Amadeo. Once a neglected facility, the clinic is now a vibrant hub for healthcare services, catering to both the human and animal members of the community. The notable personalities in Rhodes, namely Joseph Richards, along with Earl Prescott and his office, rallied together to create an establishment that carried their own set of aspirations and a willingness to restore glory to the once bustling town of Rhodes. And thus, it became the driving force behind the clinic's revival. Open for business and continuously expanding its services, the clinic welcomes individuals who share the same passion for healthcare and community welfare. With a focus on holistic well-being and a spirit of inclusivity, the Scarlett Meadows Community Clinic aims to establish itself as a vital pillar in providing the proper healthcare not just in Lemoyne, but all of Tahoma.

The Vespucci Family The history of the Vespucci family began in 1880 when the young Salazar Vespucci befriended Felice Basile during a job in Sicily, which led to Sal introducing him into the Gerallo family. In 1890, after Don Gerallo's death, Salazar, Felice, and a few others decided to try their luck in the New World, and traveled to New York, where they hoped to build a lasting empire. In New York however, the fierce competition limited the opportunities to grow, nevertheless it managed to do so. Bribes, threats, uneasy alliances and governmental corruption let the family thrive over several city blocks in Manhattan, though the operation's costs were considerable. In 1898, a family meeting was requested by Felice Basile, now the Consigliere of the Vespucci Family. During this meeting, Felice clearly presented the fact that in New York, their whole organization was financially unsustainable in the long run. A decision was made to move the family to a less competitive area, for which the city of Saint Denis was chosen. The family moved there in the early months of 1899, with a few people sent forward to set things up, but when the rest of the family came, one member, Antonio Casali failed to show up from his task. OOC: The family aims to portray a sicilan mafia style faction, with a heavy focus on organized crime, instead of the typical gang roleplay. On the surface, it shows an upstanding, and charitable organization, that helps tho however is paid by several rackets, loan-sharks, thinly veiled threats, and other means. We're looking for characters that fit into that style of gameplay.

PRIOR TO LEMOYNE The Holden Family had been in the business of farming for generations, providing the settlements of New Hanover with the required agriculture to feed the masses and contribute to the overall growth of the region. It was in the 1870s that the Holden Farm received its last change of ownership, unknown to them at the time, under the leadership of Tim Holden and his childhood sweetheart, Edna Holden. The farm was thriving and they had their hands in the pockets of most notable businesses across New Hanover, West Elizabeth, and even as far as Lemoyne - the increased use of the railroad playing a big part in this. It didn’t take long for the couple to have kids; the first being identical twins Stanley and Gus Holden, though their age was the only identical trait they shared due to the aftereffects of an unknown ailment at the time now known as a Monochorionic twin pregnancy. The former; an academically-minded individual who was often caught hiding in the shed with a book instead of working, and was often belittled by his Father as a "pretty boy", and the latter; a brute of a man who was stared at almost everywhere he went for his stature and gormless look behind the eyes. Stanley had always hoped to go to college, though the plan was always for him to continue the farm, and so instead he applied his intelligence to the business, becoming his Father’s trusted bookkeeper by the time he was 16. Meanwhile, Gus applied his strength into construction, physical labour and essentially anything his Father told him to do. After the twins, a few miscarriages and infant deaths plagued the Holdens. These deaths had started to take its toll on Tim, who had become a haunted man by the time Matilda Holden was born. He put all of his attention onto the farm and ensured that even his daughter was raised with the mindset to keep it going, caring less about gender roles and more about the Holden family legacy given his lack of children compared to his ancestors. His efforts were not in vain, as Matilda grew up to become just as invested as her Father, and often aiding her elder brothers in discussions regarding business. However, in the year 1895, the first tragedy hit the Farm; a fire that burned down the main storage shed and incinerated most of the crops. Local lawmen put it down to the hot summer, however Tim suspected foul play from a rival business. Regardless, the fire left an irreparable impact on the farm, as they were unable to bounce back from it. A man from the bank had also approached Tim with an offer for the land, most likely due to the ever expanding settlements and the need for space. With his wife’s health starting to falter, and a profit in the minuses, Tim accepted the offer, putting an end to the Holden Farm as they knew it. The Holden Family found what work they could, living in a small shack with one bedroom. While Stanley and Matilda could have left, they opted to stay and look after their dying Mother, their fragile alcoholic Father, and their dependent brother Gus. The money Tim had received that day continued to stay stored in the bank, however the man was reluctant to part with it, becoming paranoid about them having no money at all should Edna or his children need it, and so it sat there collecting dust. Unfortunately, in the year 1899, Edna was laid to rest, plunging Tim into the bottom of a bottle unlike ever before. The Holden siblings didn’t have time to properly grieve as their next plan of action was to convince their Father to finally use the savings to get another plot of land, hoping that would bring the whole family out of their depression and allow them to be successful once again. After many lengthy conversations between Matilda, Stanley & Tim - and Gus too, if he wasn't busy wandering off somewhere - the head of the family was finally convinced in parting with most of his money for the betterment of the family future, his only condition being that afterwards "he is left in peace." A small family home against the northern Lemoyne border purchased, they continued their search for land around the nearby town, Rhodes, eventually discovering a notice written by Sheriff Linwood on the search for farmhands on his land known as Southfield Flats; a short commute from the Holden's latest housing investment. This discovery led to a proposition being made to the Sheriff that they would tend to the farm and business matters while he holds onto the land for his retirement plans - a proposition that was accepted along with some funding provided, in an arrangement known as sharecropping. Years of family turmoil and financial instability later, The Holdens had land available to them again; though inner relations being more dysfunctional than ever, only time will tell if the family can make something of themselves once again in the shadow of those that came before them. This screenshot thread will showcase the day-to-day life of working at Holden Farm and the general lives of the family and their associates.

((https://discord.gg/3UFedFCjUY to show interest OOC if struggling to find us))