Atlas grew up in the slums of Norland working the mines with his father to help pay off the family debts his mother left them with due to her back-street gambling addiction. He had a twin brother named Debrek, but he was sadly killed in a mining accident alongside his father when he was nineteen, which is what lead for him to abandon the kingdom and leave for the wild. Upon his adventuring out in the wild, he resorted to petty crime to get by--killing a sheep or a pig on occasion for food, stealing strung-up clothing left to dry to survive the winter and so on. But, one day, his luck took a turn and the sins trailing far behind him finally caught up. He broke into a house--an old cabin out by a lake--in the dead of night in hopes of grabbing fresh clothing for the upcoming winter, only to find that the owner was a fanatical zealot and follower of the slain Prophet Rott. Needless to say, the unsuspecting Atlas was quickly apprehended and tossed into the melting depths of the cultist's basement, where he would then stay in the dark bound in rope for supposed days.
Luckily though, it seemed he was not alone in his fate. Taking on the appearance of an easy target, the wooden house was the perfect bait for petty thieves and Atlas soon found himself bound alongside two others named Fýlaksi, an elf, and Caladin, a halfling, in preparation for a grand sacrifice in hopes of appeasing Rott from beyond the grave. With their encroaching deaths looming over their heads like a thick fog, the three decided to get to know one another, as they all agreed they didn't want to die in the presence of strangers. The newfound trio of bound brothers was born that night as they sat and shared their past in fear of having no future.
This explains how he met his bound-brothers Fýlaksi and Caladin along with a small summing-up of his life beforehand. After their brief meeting and introduction to one-another, the three sit in the dark in wait for the unknown fate, listening to the subtle and hushed whispers exchanged above them carrying warning words such as "grand sacrifice" and "Rott." With there fate becoming all too clear to the trio, they look at each other in shared horror, each one able to piece together that tonight, if they were to not act, would be their final night alive. But, what could they do? They struggled against their bonds, kicking and rustling against the dampened floors before eventually resorting to more primitive desperation and attempting to gnaw at the rope with their teeth. After a few minutes of their feeble attempts, they exhaust their breath and look towards one-another in abhorrent realization: they were going to die.
Except, a certain halfling had a trick up his sleeve--or, rather, a bone. Using a hidden rib bone he kept from hunted game and sharpened against the rough stone, Caladin was eventually able to cut himself free and then his bound-brothers Atlas and Fýlaksi. Using the bone, they then snuck upstairs and slit the throats of the slumbering cultists one by one, successfully ridding themselves of the looming threat of death and freeing themselves to the wilderness outside. But, they didn't leave empty-handed; they came for petty trinkets, but now they would be leaving donning the very armor that entrapped them there with a sense of accomplishment, pride, and newfound purpose. -For, you see, they were but petty bandits and thieves trying to make ends meet before. But, now? No, now they were bandits with purpose; rather than using their stolen wealth for their own selfish desires, they would use it to fund their operations of hunting down, infiltration, and then killing any remaining Rott cultists plaguing the lands.
(Sorry for the lack 'a proper grammar and overall "eh" writing. I'm much better than this, trust me, I'm just hella tired.)
