As a young boy, my mother and I moved around a lot, Mostly because we didn't have a permanent place to stay, homelessness sucks. That went on for at least 5 years, until my mother was found dead behind a bowling alley due to a drug overdose; it was 10th birthday. After my mother passed i was placed into foster care, I bounced from house to house until i was 18 years old. my father, who i never meet before finally came looking for me on my 21st birthday with a half eaten box of cookies, and a almost empty bottle of scotch for a present. I hated him for as long as I can remember, but he was my only family I had left, at least I thought that until he mentioned a had younger siblings (Chopper, Sam & Ashley). I wasted no time moving with him to some country named Nyheim, quiet and cold country but peaceful. shortly after arrived I immediately went on the search for my siblings, but could only reach my brother Chopper, an regretfully found out his mother and Ashley were dead. Chopper and I have stayed in contact for about a month I've been here for 6 months now learning how to camp and do more wilderness things. I was forced to learn how to hunt, as our town butcher had gotten sick by something even the doctors arent sure about.