*This takes place in the Elder Scrolls Universe. So yeah.*.
When I was a boy, I lived with my father in Skyrim. We lived in a small series of shacks in the woods outside of Falkreath, a community of hunters if you will. My father was a great hunter, an expert with a bow. He taught me everything I know about archery, and was training me since the day I was strong enoguh to draw a bow. He was a good man, but was never quite right since my mother died.
There was an animal, tore into our shack, and tore her to pieces. All the other hunters said it was a bear, but my father was not convinced. He said that it was more humanoid, faster, and that it howled. I'd never seen a howling bear, but I wasn't one to question my father.
One day we were out hunting. I was a boy of about 14. It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky. Not until we saw smoke rise up over the towering trees. It appeared to be coming from where our camp was, so we hurried in that direction. When we got there, my father pushed me down behind a rock.
From my cover, I could see soldiers, burning buildings and binding the hands of hunters before forcing them to their knees. My father laid down his bow and arrows by me, and told me he loved me, and to stay behind the rock. I was confused, but I obeyed. He walked up to a soldier, and asked him a question. Even with my trained hunter's ears, I could barely hear them. ".....you scum are poaching on the Jarls land, and you will be brought to justice...." The soldier went on before grabbing my father's wrist with one hand, holding rope in the other.
My father drew his axe, and landed a clean, fatal blow to the bridge on the soldier's nose. A soldier wielding a sword rushed towards him, but also lost his life to my father's blade. He took the sword and succeeded in freeing two hunters before being shot thrice in the back. I wanted to run to him, I wanted to scream and cry, but he had always told me that when he was gone, I was my own man. I picked up the bow and arrows, understanding now why he had left them, and ran in the other direction. My father had told me to go to Whiterun if anything happened to him, so I started on my journey.
I found the hunting site I was at with my dad before the slaughter, and slung a wolf over my shoulder. I carried on towards the mountain that was me beacon, bow in my hand, sweat on my face. Eventually I came across a road, and followed it in the direction closest to the mountain.
I later came across a sign pointed me in te direction of Riverwood, a small mill town just south of Whiterun. I would rest there, sell the pelt of the beast on my shoulder, and eat what was left.
I stayed the night in a charming little inn called the Sleeping Giant. The owner took pity on me and let me have a room for free until I was back on my feet. I rested, before making some gold off of the wolf I had carried. The blacksmith, a gruff man named Alvor, gladly paid me extra to skin and tann the beast myself. I used the extra money I had made to pay his wife to cook me a meal out of the remains.
I spent the rest of the afternoon chopping wood at the mill, before sleeping with my newly earned gold at my side. When I awoke, I thanked the innkeeper for my room, and used my gold to pay him for it. He was grateful, but insisted I keep my hard earned gold. I thanked him again and walked off, over the bridge and own the road, just like the mill's owner had said.
Eventually, over the hill, I saw Whiterun in all it's glory. It was beautiful, to say the very least. I ran the rest of the way there, and was exhausted by the time I was inside the city. The guards had questioned me about being alone, but let me through when they heard my story.
I slept on a bench, under the shade of a glorious and beautiful tree, but was awoken by a nice redguard couple. I got up and apologized for sleeping where they wanted to sit, but they smiled and told me that that wasn't what they were there for. They were there to ask where my parents where. After hearing my story, they offered to adopt me, and I gladly excepted.
My adoptive after was a great warrior, and trained me to use a blade as well as my father had taught me to use a bow. Eleven years later, at the age of 25, I decided that I wanted to be a warrior, a great warrior, and decided I wanted to join the Companions.
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