Ronan Moore was born to Evelyn Moore in London. Evelyn was the working girl, scrounging every cent she could. Nothing was off limits for her, even street corners. Eventually enough that left her with an even bigger problem on her hands, a child. Evelyn, holding on to the last threads of her good-little-girl Catholic upbringing, kept the boy; as if little Ronan was meant to be some sign of God to bring her out of her dark, dreary life.
Being born to a live a poverty, Ronan grew knowing how to fend for himself, how to steal and keep quiet about it. He attended schools, like a good little Catholic boy should. He never got along with the other children, not to say he was bullied or picked on. It was actually quite the opposite for the whoreson. He was left alone, treated like he never even existed. Stellar grades, always quite, never made a fuss. Perfect. Little. Catholic. Boy.
That little Catholic boy never cared he was in the shadows. He preferred that in all bloody honesty. The buzz of the other adolescents always seemed trivial, even before the boy knew what that word meant. He had no interest in others, beyond eventually trying to determine how the brain worked. Ronan developed an intense interest in the mental aspect of life, the mind being the only part of a person he could ever find interesting. He went through his early adulthood, never sharing much of his own mind, his own feelings as they were, but he delighted in tearing apart those of others. He wanted to know what made people tick. What made them them. Eventually... and unfortunately for those who he deemed "never-to-be-missed", Ronan attempted to make that mental and physical connection. Find where the mind was housed, or as his Nun teacher's would call it: the soul.
Being unsuccessful in his search, Ronan needed time to himself. To reflect. To find his own soul. He traveled across Europe, and eventually found himself in Chernarus, where he'd never leave. He didn't mind that one little bit.