A former ex-scout leader, escaping England on his own ship after having to shoot down the young scouts who had been caught by infected and were starting to attack him. Not enlightened to what was happening at the time as the infection had only just started in the country, he felt guilty at his actions but knew he had been given no choice when he had witnessed some of the children suddenly ripping into another, chewing on their flesh and drinking their blood.
He sailed around the world, trying to find a country that was not plagued with infected. Making only quick stops on the edges of countries to try and salvage any non-perished food, drink, medical supplies or just to fix his ship from minor damages, he started to abandon hope of ever discovering another sane living person.
After managing to endure at sea for over a year and a half, with only quick stops in obscure ports, islands or beaches for quick supplies, he arrived on the south-eastern coast of Takistan. Unfortunately for him this landing place was not of his own choosing, as a sea-storm had crippled his sailing ship due to a tidal wave smashing into the starboard side. This sudden freak violent storm had failed to capsize the ship but had snapped the mast which as it fell, punctured several huge holes through the hull as well as the deck.
Upon touching ground from his destroyed ship, he realized his sailing days were now at an end and started honing his orientation and basic survival skills, developing them further to become a hunter. Surviving mostly on fresh meat hunted from the local wildlife, he started making a decent life for himself. Gaining enough confidence to even sometimes forage into small towns or villages to aid those he heard over his walkie-talkie with pleas of help, supplying them with basic food, water or basic first aid when he could salvage any medical items from the nearby medical centers or hospitals.
Due to gaining a name for himself as a local savior, he found himself suddenly having to head for the hills from a group of bandits who decided they didn't like him assisting those they wanted to terrorize. He fled on foot through forests and fields towards the very border of Chernarus, avoiding some of the milling masses of infected or stragglers that were roaming the otherwise desolate cities and towns with ease.
Once near the border wall, his personal walkie-talkie flickered to life with its remaining battery, a request for medical help and food as someone had got injured running away from a horde of infected. The battery soon gave out before any positioning was given, leaving Erik Yorsh frustrated as he believed the cry for help to be genuine and felt the motivation to be able to locate them.
With a final look towards the nearest town before the Chernarissian border barrier, he commenced scaling the wall, which since it was cavitied with weather-worn bullet holes it made an easygoing ascent for him. Upon reaching the top of the wall several bullets fired out of obscurity upon him, one lodging directly into his leg. This caused him to lurch and drop onto the Chernarus side of the border with a fractured leg, an open bullet wound and head trauma caused by the impact of the landing, making him quickly slip into a state of shock that caused his brain to shutdown making him fall unconscious.
The last things he remembered before being completely unconscious, was a pair of hands grasping at his body,while his last thoughts were... 'Is this the end?'
Much to his own shock, Erik woke up in a medical looking building. He noticed his leg was in a cast but not in pain, and bandages wrapped around his head. Confused but also grateful, he shifted off the stretcher carefully while calling out "Hello?" to which there was no answer. Even more confused by the lack of a response, he gently lowered his leg to the ground, surprised when the expected twinge of pain never happened. "How long was I unconscious for?" He said aloud to himself as he used a nearby knife to cut away the cast from his leg. After a few minutes he managed to remove the cast completely, looking surprised at the neat scarring on his leg where the bullet hole had been stitched professionally, and proceeded to stand up while removing the bandaging off his head. 'Wonder who helped me? Would like to thank them properly for attending to my wounds' he thought while looking around the otherwise deserted building. "Hello? Whoever helped me recover I would like to thank you personally" He said out loud, increasing his voice slightly but still trying to be quiet. Again only an eerie silence replied back, goosebumps running across his body in anticipation. He quickly put on some nearby clothes, none that were his original clothing, 'Wonder what they did with my old clothes?' he mused while settling into the red checkered shirt comfortably.
Shielding his eyes in preparation for the incoming sun-glare, he opened the door slowly but it wouldn't open. Something was jammed against it outside. Getting slightly worried that he would not be able to get out, he pushed harder against the door until suddenly it opened quickly. With the sudden resistance gone, Erik stumbled over the blockage which cased him to trip and roll down the couple of steps on the other side of the door. "Ow... Sh*t that hurt!" He exclaimed in pain while pushing himself up from the stony floor before turning around to see what had caused the door to be jammed shut. "Oh.... God..." He said, eyes wide open in disbelief of what he was seeing. In front of the door was a pile of bodies, all covered in blood. Curiosity getting the better of him, Erik gently moved one of the corpses, causing it to roll its head slightly which showed all the evidence he needed. Around the mouth of the corpse was flakes of dried blood, the teeth were a dark brown color and the face looked like it was in an eternal snarl. "Oh God... Oh Sh*t... F*ck.... Wh-what happened here?" He said breathlessly while panic started taking over his body, his body lurching awkwardly as he started to run down the road away from the building.
Once down the road about three or four miles away from the building, Erik looked up towards the sun in an attempt to work out which direction he was headed. Much to his surprise it seemed the sun was starting to set as there was the starting of red spreading across the horizon over the water. "Damn, going to have to find somewhere to sleep for the night.... I do not want to be in the open once it gets dark" he mutters to himself as he started to head in the opposite direction from the coast, eyeing the distant group of trees nervously. Keeping low and dodging around the few buildings, sometimes dipping into a couple that looked completely abandoned to see if any food or drinks could be salvaged, he made his way across the fields until he arrived at the edge of the woods.
"Well, should be easy enough to make a comfortable den here for the night" he says with a forced chuckle before starting to dig at the ground near a tree. After a few minutes of work, he had a long pit dug out, just long enough to lay in with little elbow room. "Now to make it comfortable" he mutters, grabbing handfuls of dead leaves from the area and lining the pit with them and then after careful consideration he snaps a few branches off the pine trees. Using young branches snapped off other trees he ties the pine branches together, creating a type of blanket before settling in the pit and positioning the make-shift cover on top of himself. After a while of shifting around in the make-shift bed, he finally manages to find a position that was relatively comfortable; if you can call twigs and pine needles sticking into you through your clothing comfortable, and starts drifting off to sleep.
A hazy vision of a man smiling at a small group of children lighting their first fire in the wilderness forms in the subconscious. Suddenly the imagery changes drastically into a man crying grief-stricken on a boat with a calm ripple amongst the waves, no sight of land around on the horizon. The cause of this grief seems to be deeply hidden yet glaringly obvious.