Jean DuBois, a French poacher fleeing conscription

You were born in a small French hamlet on the edge of a nobleman's estate. Growing up, your father taught you to hunt in the woods with his old musket. As a boy, you never understood the risks you were taking. Hunting in the nearby forests (aka, all of them) was reserved by the nobility for their own use, and you could get shot by the gamekeepers at worst, or an indefinite stay in jail at best for ignoring their restrictions. Still, it was the only way for you to get any real meat in your family's diet. Your lean (not by choice) diet has left you with a thin, wiry build. You had a few close scrapes, but nothing too bad until now.

It is 1739, and trouble is brewing in Europe. You don't keep up with the news, but you've heard it's some new dynastic nonsense.The kingdom is preparing for war, and taking up able-bodied young men to fill its ranks. You will not be a conscript to fight some selfish nobleman's petty wars, you can't! Beaten into submission by drill sergeants, fed wormy hard-tack, all only to be shot or gored on the battlefield, forgotten. No, anything but that.

When the conscriptors first came around, you hid in the bushes until they left. You evaded them, but you knew they would be back, they always use the parish register to find men. You take your trusty musket and a bag of shot and powder. It's the only trade you know, and you'll be relying on it to survive.