Sometimes, names do possess a strange kind of grim irony. The Reaping Fields were called this way by virtue of the abundant scraps of the old age that could be collected there. Over the years, small villages made of junk began to sprout through the barren lands, while the valuable materials grew scarcer and scarcer. As resource gathering activity started to fade, a new, sinister kind of reaping began. A cruel human harvest is still ongoing: the marauding Blackroads clans send their warbands to raid the villages, the mutants from the Shifting Forest steal children for their King that Never Was and the knights of the Bulwark take those deemed worthy and pure of blood to their citadel, often forcefully.
And yet, not all the denizens of the Reaping Fields are hopeless and resigned to a cruel fate. Among them it is possible to find genial inventors, brave explorer, cruel sellswords and even heroes. The Vagrant Seer is one of such champions.
Gunther always lived a rather serene, dull and solitary life. He was a mechanic, a lone worker of one of the smallest hamlets. He tried to never get involved in any trouble or get too attached to anything. He saw both the Blackroads raiders and the Bulwark knights come and go, after having done what they pleased with the villagers. He never complained, he minded his own business.
One day, Gunther decided he had had enough. During an incursion of the Burning Valves clan, he picked up his staff, and walked out of his workshop to face the marauders' leader. He found his foe and his warriors in the village's square. Gunther raised his staff and did what he had wanted to do for a very long time: he talked. He spoke words of common sense and cooperation, words of hope and wisdom.
They did listen.
They beat him.
And still, they left the hamlet.
From that day, Gunther travels from village to village, spreading his message of a better future and, sometimes, enforcing his words with a good blow of his staff. As the Seer always says, everyone must do his part.