Atticus was born in England, back in the late fourties, with both his parents. He grew up in a '''regular'' household for what was ''regular'' these days. He had a normal upbringing, struggling like almost everyone else in these dark times. They moved from settlement to settlement, and from tribe to tribe, living from day to day and survive. They lived like this for like the first ten years or Atticus' life. Eventually when tribes began to settle and turn into settlements they settled in Ander’s Holdfast - Lincoln Castle. He grew up there, his father tried to make a living from trade and venturing outside the settlement. They had an OK life, but it was dangerous and you never knew if he would come back. When Atticus was sixteen, he lost his father. He didn't return from his journey, we couldn't look for him. My mother was too scared to look for him, and I was too young. What little we had, we tried to offer to people to look for my father, but he was never found again. From now on we struggled, I turned to petty crimes, stealing, pick-pocketing to get by. I didn't do it because I liked it but because I had to get by, and care for my mother. I would get caught several times, get punished but get back at it again, because there was no other way. We would have a small group of friends that would do this all together. Eventually when I turned eighteen it would escalate into bigger issues. We would get more ruthless and turn to home invasions, and robberies. They would plague the area with crime, and become a real nuisance, the group would vary in size a lot, people would come and go regulary. There was a small core-group of four friends, that knew each other since they were young, including Atticus. Authorities would look for them, and try to arrest them for the crimes. Most of the times they couldn't deliver the proof needed. They continued their spree, and dared to wander outside looking for bigger riches and maybe even older and more rarer equipment. That they could trade or use in their endeavors. This all ended abruptly, one of the group, a close friend of Atticus. He killed a man in a trade, he tried to keep his stuff and take what was from the other person. It all echo'd through the area that they killed a person over equipment. That was when Atticus realized he coulnd't continue like this, he fled. After a long and daring journey, he ended up in Nyheim. He didn't have anything left, or anything of value. He knew nobody and nobody knows him and his past, he tries to better his life here, but knows that it will be hard.