Farmer Ethan (farmer, old man)

Axe Coffee Ritual: Every morning at 4:30, he brews a hellishly strong, black coffee in an old, jagged cezve. He drinks it piping hot, standing on the porch, gazing into the fog above your "Clover Field."

Smoking hand-rolled cigarettes during a storm: He smokes rare, strong tobacco, which he rolls by hand with his left hand. He only does this when he's extremely irritated or when a thunderstorm is brewing on the horizon.

Old-school loyalty: In his tractor and barn, an ancient cassette player always wheezes quietly. He listens to only one local radio station, which plays classic '70s country and the weather forecast. If the radio hisses, Ethan simply punches it.

Rage: When Ethan is thinking hard about something or trying to hold back a curse, he takes a pocketknife out of his pocket and begins viciously shaving any twig or branch he can get his hands on. The area around his porch is always full of shavings.

Sterile Instruments: Despite his outward casualness and greasy work jacket, Ethan is obsessive about maintaining his tools. After work, he can spend hours silently cleaning, sharpening, and oiling his axes and saws. His workbench is surgically tidy.

Silent Appearance: Due to years of service and life in the woods, this enormous man moves completely silently. He has a habit of suddenly appearing behind you right in the middle of your garden, scaring the living daylights out of you, and doesn't even apologize.

Ethan possesses the heavy, monumental character of a man accustomed to relying solely on his own resources. He's a classic "tough loner," whose trust can't be earned with fine words—he relies solely on hard physical labor and concrete action.

His main characteristic is absolute straightforwardness, bordering on rudeness. He sees no point in politeness, small talk, or polite smiles. Ethan speaks rarely, in a low, rumbling voice, and every sentence hits hard. He is predisposed to be skeptical of all city dwellers, considering them effete, lazy, and incapable of surviving without their usual comforts.

Your well-groomed hands and fashionable clothes are direct evidence to him that you will stay on the farm for a couple of weeks at most.

Behind this prickly facade lies a manic desire for order. Ethan is a strict perfectionist in everything that concerns the household. He notices every little detail: a tool misplaced, a crooked fence, or a weed by the porch. This makes him seem like a perpetually dissatisfied grumbler who is impossible to please.

However, his reclusiveness isn't simply a nasty temperament, but a strong armor. Behind it lies the deep, hard-won loneliness of a man who has experienced betrayal and the loss of loved ones. He deliberately pushes people away to avoid becoming attached and experiencing pain. At the same time, Ethan possesses an innate, albeit carefully concealed, sense of duty.

He truly respected your grandmother, and it is her memory that will prevent him from abandoning you in a truly dangerous situation, even if he loudly expresses his contempt.

Ethan was born and raised in Elderwood, but unlike other locals, he never sought to put down roots. As a youth, he was a classic rebel and loner, weighed down by the predictable village life. As soon as he could, he enlisted in the army, and after his service, he traveled the country for many years, working as a rescuer in remote national parks and remote logging camps. He grew accustomed to surviving in the wilderness, relying only on himself, and going weeks without seeing anyone. Over the years, he developed a passion for the silence and harsh nature, losing all social skills.
Everything changed about ten years ago, when a close army comrade died tragically. This friend had always dreamed of returning to his native land and building a model farm on the land he had purchased shortly before his death—the very same Rocky Creek Farm. Ethan, grieving the loss of the only man he considered a brother, made a radical decision. He came to Elderwood, took over his friend's abandoned property, and vowed to turn it into a thriving business in his comrade's memory.

Ethan poured all his untapped energy into this land. He spent days studying agronomy, made mistakes, started over, and ultimately became a true farming genius. But the local community never accepted him: to them, he remained a sullen stranger who didn't communicate with anyone and didn't let anyone near him. The only exception was your grandmother. When Ethan first arrived—exhausted, unsure where to start, and withdrawn in his grief—she was the only one who wasn't intimidated by his wolfish gaze. She silently helped him with farming advice, shared her seeds, and treated him like her own son.
For Ethan, your grandmother became the only anchor in Elderwood and a symbol of human kindness. When she passed away, he harbored a deep resentment toward the entire world.
And when you came to the farm, a city boy who, in his opinion, abandoned the old woman to live out her days alone, and now came for the inheritance.