[Sawrock]

A man who many would not recognize would stumble into a building, holding a half-full bottle with a partially scratched-off label. He would be dressed (if the manner of which he was could even be called such) in a brown outfit that suited a huntsman or brigand. His other hand held a bow, which upon closer inspection, and with some archery expertise, one could determine that it was likely a toy bow, due to both the construction and material.

"Hey, Slamm thinks y'should make him this here mayor. After all-..." The man would pause, looking about, noticing the building he had entered was not only the wrong building to submit applications, but in an empty building that was likely once used for storage, long ago abandoned. "Well, fuck me until I barf arrows outta m'eye sockets," the hunter-like man would sputter, wandering off to find the proper building.

Upon the arrival of the correct destination, the man known as Slamm would once more speak to a nearby person, whether it looked like they held any authority or not. "Slamm thinks y'should make him the leader of th'new village or whatever. After all, I'm a noble, and you knows what nobles do: they rule! And, uh, tax people. And use th'right fork."

Contrary to his improper use of his brain, if one were to check, the name known as Maximillion Slamm would indeed be a noble, from a line of nobility that was often mild-mannered and not quite as thuggish as the one currently applying. However, it would also seem that Lord Slamm would be the only living member of the Slamm noble house, and therefore the head of the Slamm house, as regrettable as that might be.

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Lord Slamm would glare at the one he was speaking to, stare at them for a good five seconds, and then turn around to leave, sneakily and swiftly, give or take a few swears and other ill-to-be-used choice words.