An unimpressed, indifferent young man half the age of the old heads in Nyheim, conceived in a wasteland writhing with conflict and under the supervision of a tough-as-nails, albeit cold, father. Being raised as an errand runner for the majority of the "protectors" of a nameless faction, his upbringing was anything but that of one who was shielded from the harsh reality of the barren world. Spending time around hardened characters with backgrounds from both military and three-letter agencies, a lot of his time would be spent learning to defend himself, and capitalize on other peoples inadequacies to ensure his chances of survival. Arkady always considered himself an introvert, though, whether this was an excuse for the devilish intentions he knew his fathers collective would eventually carry out or his actual personality could be left up to some debate. Surrounded by those who were ethically questionable and constantly toed the line between necessary action and justifiable compliance, the journey to Nyheim was a long one... and, by the time he finally made it, neither his guardian nor those who ran with his father was still with him. Where did all the time go? A good question for him, but not one he really knew if he cared to answer.