Born in Solitude as the son of a Breton female and a Nord male.I am 16 winters old, a fully grown man now. My mother was the daughter of a wealthy merchant and inherited his trade as his wife hadn't born him a son. My father was a true warrior, but none of the stubborn racist kind. More like an honorable mercenary, a self-employed Companion. He travelled many imperial provinces, until he met my mother on an assignment as bodyguard in the imperial city. After they got to love each other, they decided to return to his homeland, Skyrim. He decided to join the City Watch and she opened a mixed-goods-shop. They didn't make a fortune, but it was enough for a decent living and they could afford children. I had an older sister who died at birth, and I have a younger brother, who is currently half my age (8 winters). As I am a grown man now, I decided to follow my fathers path as a fighter, but from my mother I learned the importance and the influence of words. As I venture out into the wilds, wearing a leather armor, carrying my sword Moriturus and some hundred septims, I reflect back on my life and I am grateful to have the chance to take my destiny into my own hands.
Was born on a farm near the Western Watchtower in Whiterun Hold, left for Riften on a business trip but was caught on the way home by Imperials eager for head chopping. After escaping Helgen, i found my farm in ruins.
Needless to say, i found myself as a Stormcloak. Yeah i'm a Altmer. Your point?