User:ACILI147

'''Valoren Revis'''

My name is Valoren. Valoren Revis. I was born in Balmora, along with my best friend, Ambarys Rendar. We lived there in peace for most of our lives. When we were young we joined the mages guild in town. I excelled in destruction magic, fire to be exact, and conjuration magic. Since we were kids at the time they refused to teach us the advanced skills so we decided to try our hand at physical combat in the fighter’s guild. It was there I learned the ways of heavy armor and swords. Ambarys hadn’t an affinity for magical or physical combat, but boy could he talk. I had been known to be a very nervous person but ever since Ambarys got a job at the local tavern he became one of the most well-known people in town. It seemed to the two of us that we had the world at our fingertips, and nothing could stop us. And then came the beginning of the 4th era. The eruption of Red Mountain. It had always been there. Looming over our own from a distance. Although I had never expected it to reach out take my entire life from me as it had that day. In the confusion of the evacuation, Ambarys and I had been separated from both of our families. We were escorted to Windhelm, invited by the Jarl himself who volunteered to take in refugees. I couldn’t help but notice that they had given us refugees our own section of their town. It was all so different… Compared to the ash of my homeland this icy tundra was not so inviting. However, we grew into the cold after a while. Ambarys and I turned the bottom level of our home into a bar. We called it the “New Gnisis Cornerclub.” It was a good fit for him but I still was a bit unhappy. After the first few weeks the people of Windhelm turned as cold as their land. Treating us as unwanted guests after they had invited us in. We sucked it up for a year or two but it ended up getting worse. “Filthy gray skins” they called us. Our little “Gray Quarter” became what seems to be the poorest and filthiest place in Skyrim, as the guards couldn’t possibly bother to help us with our problems. Ambarys had even personally asked Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, to come and witness the condition of our neighborhood but he “couldn’t find the time.” One night, while in a drunken state, Ambarys and I decided that it would be a good idea for me to join up with the legion due to my affinity for combat. When I awoke the next morning I remembered the conversation and slipped out of the city. And stole away on a caravan headed for solitude. When I arrived I ran straight for Castle Dour and spoke to Legate Rikke and General Tullius. I administered the oath and then was fitted for armor by Beirand. There was no way I was going to let me and my people be treated like that anymore. The next time I was to meet with Ambarys… It would be in a new Windhelm… A new Skyrim…