Adykon marched out into the fields surrounding his farmhouse. He had been expecting a group of migrant workers to show up at any time, and it appeared that they were now here. He had been left shorthanded ever since his oldest sons left to start homesteads of their own, and it was almost harvest time for the wheat and grapes. While he was normally dressed in either a blue shirt and long pants, he was clad in a sleeveless shirt and shorts today, wielding a pitchfork in his right hand instead of his greatsword. 

"Good to see you all here! I am Adykon, the owner of this homestead. I'll work alongside you, as you will work next to some of my sons. Do you have any questions for me? Oh, and if you need to know, yes, I am [i]that[/i] Adykon, but I don't like to talk about the Dememoras stuff, so let's just skip those inquires, if you don't mind."