Sam grew up in a forest distanced from society. Raised by his mother Marilyn and an absent father, everything he came to know originated from his mother. A peaceful life began. With no siblings to bicker with or neighbor kids to play with, there was little more he could do than work. for seventeen years he lived his life. He’d cut wood for a fire, hunt the animals of the forest for a small meal and if he had time, read the same three books he had read countless times. It was a quiet place and Sam never grew the desire to leave. Unfortunately for him, fate decided to shake things up. His mother began falling ill one day and was only getting worse for the week to come. When she became too weak to stand, Sam did nothing but stay at her side tending ti her needs. At the end of that week there were changes. Nearby clashes related to a large group of elves had escalated to a firey battle. Unfortunately for the Rosenburgs, a few stray attackers found the quiet house and set flame to it on their way to rejoining the battle. The roof caved in, trapping Sam’s mother leaving him with no choice but to grab what he could and leave. He would always have a soft spot for that quiet place in the forest, but he would never return to see what became of it. He couldn’t bare the thought. Fast forward a year and Sam is still in search of a home. He could have sworn he’d seen something in the sky larger than a house, but then again maybe it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. “There weren’t floating objects in the sky, that’s nonsense” he’d tell himself whenever thinking about it. He would still be wandering a year later, at present at the age of nineteen. (Sorry for reference to the floating islands, it was just the first thing I could think of to encounter but never have an effect on him). He would finally finish his journey trying to settle in the Meranesian Islands for a peaceful break.
