Come on in and sit, child. I will tell you a story of a man whose life was filled with pain, a man who only knew how to run. He lived many years ago in a land where giants and dragons were abundant. Listen well, my child to the tale of Vorem the Wanderer.
As a young boy his father would regale stories to him of the great lives that their ancestors had lived, he was always amazed and enthralled by these tales of mighty warriors and legendary mages, even a master thief, as all boys of that age would, but as he grew older he not only began to doubt his father's stories, he also began to question, things such as "If our ancestors were so great, then why must we live in this hovel with not a penny to our name?" to which his father would reply "We angered the gods, my son". This answer always infuriated him and on more than one occasion caused him to violently leave the house until his rage subsided.
As he grew older he became quite involved with a young woman of a similar age, when seen around town they were nigh inseparable, and when they weren't seen, most people fancied that they were still together, only behind closed doors where curious eyes couldn't spy their antics. Vorem always counted his blessings, one of the few things he got from his poor household, he was neither strong nor smart, he was not particularly athletic nor could he play an instrument, he was always considered to be rather average and therefore, often unnoticed, which is why he was most surprised when Celoa showed such keen interest in him, but he never complained. She was a shoulder to cry on and a voice of reason, which in the case of Vorem was needed more often than not, when he argued with his father she was always there to comfort him.
One night Vorem had a particularly violent feud with both his mother and father which of course ended with the usual "We angered the Gods, my son" he ran out of his home and straight to Celoa, she was waiting outside her door, it would seem the entire village had heard his family's dispute. The young lovers walked for a while earning Vorem time to calm himself, they sat in the nearby forest under a large pine tree and watched the sun set. When the moon was glaring down at them they thought it was time to return to their home, but as they approached they saw plumes of smoke rising from the direction of the village, as they got closer the entire village was on fire, bodies littered the streets and amidst the horror Vorem saw his parents, tied up and gutted like pigs alongside other villagers, people he knew, friends and neighbours. Celoa was crouched of a burnt corpse, in its hand he saw the pendant her mother used to wear, there was nothing left in the village for either of them. He reached down and grabbed her hand, she looked up at him with tears streaming down her face, he looked her in the eye and said "We need to leave, whoever did this might come back." So they ran, they ran as fast as they could, they did not want to stay in those lands, they fled decided to flee to the neighbouring country, to live out their lives there. They knew they could not run forever, but as luck would have it a carriage approached them, Vorem hailed it to stop and asked where the driver was headed "To Cyrodiil of course, if you want a lift it'll be 10 septims each for you two." Vorem paid the man their money and they climbed into the back of the cart, Celoa needed to be lifted up, her legs had failed her, was it the running or her emotions Vorem wondered. He clambered up and sat next to her, drawing her up into a tight embrace as she began to sob again "Why has this happened to us?" she asked quietly. "Because we angered the Gods." He replied, and he couldn't help but smile grimly after realising what he said.