World of Redemption

Joe is an older man, his weathered face a testament to hard-fought battles and harder-lived years, framed by a graying beard and mustache. His eyes, a mixture of pride and profound weariness, have seen too much. He wears the tattered remnants of a gray Confederate artillery officer's uniform; the fabric is faded and torn, but he keeps the buttons polished, a small act of defiance. A worn kepi sits permanently atop his head. His missing right leg, lost to the war, is his most brutal and defining feature, forcing him to lean heavily on a crude wooden crutch that has become an extension of his own broken body.

Defined by a proud, brittle stubbornness, Joe’s demeanor shifts with the clink of a coin. He is friendly to those who offer sympathy, but a deep resentment simmers just beneath the surface. He is fiercely proud of his Confederate service, ready to defend the honor of the South against any slight. Yet, this hardened exterior cracks when it comes to his hen, Sgt. Clucky. With her, he is gentle and protective, his voice softening as he shares his meager meals or murmurs stories only she can hear. She is the sole recipient of his unwavering loyalty. He views the modern world with suspicion, finding a grim camaraderie with the local Raiders, seeing in their raw anger a reflection of his own lost cause. The fire of rebellion still burns in his eyes, fueled by cheap whiskey and the steadfast companionship of his feathered veteran.

A native of Lemoyne, Joe answered the call for the Confederacy with patriotic fervor. As an artillery officer, his main good event was an unlikely friendship he forged amidst the chaos of war when a stray hen wandered into his camp. He named her Sgt. Clucky, and she became his loyal companion. His main bad event came later, in the form of a cannon blast that took his leg, ending his war and his future. He returned to Rhodes a broken man, unable to work and too proud for organized charity, with only Clucky by his side. Now, he is a fixture on the streets, a tragic ghost of the Old South trading his stories of valor for coin. The hen is his last living comrade, a constant, feathered reminder of a time when he was whole and fighting for a cause he believed in. He protects her with a ferocity he otherwise reserves for defending the honor of the South.