Admeir

He grew up in Bruma, in the years following the Great War.
Like most he associates with, he despises the Thalmor and sympathises with the Empire. He hopes the Aldmeri Dominion gets what’s coming for them, and he'd like to be apart of it.
He tends not to like elves of any kind, though the Bosmer and Orsimer he can tolerate. He has a special hatred for the Altmer and Dunmer (the Dunmer of Solstheim he learns tolerate, as long as they're not Telvanni...)

He found life as a woodcutter in Bruma boring. His dreams stretched far beyond joining the Bruma guard, and Skyrim was just so tantalisingly close. Ancient Nordic ruins and buried ancestry sounded much more exciting than a life stationed in the county he grew up in.
But his family warned against this due to the ongoing civil war, and he was prohibited from leaving.

He did so anyway, which was not a great idea as the closest entrance to Skyrim was in fact militarised.
The soldiers who caught him were sympathetic to his cause and let him through with a warning. He got a cheery welcome to Skyrim by bearing witness to the Helgen executions and the subsequent events.

He arrived to Skyrim wearing a set of clunky Imperial-style armour. It wasn't tempered to the Skyrim climate and he was forced to switch it out for a new set of Skyrim steel...As soon as he was able to amass the funds.
The mess at Helgen shook him up a bit. He wasn't quite expecting to be greeted by a dragon. But some Imperial named Hadvar seemed to think it was an issue, and entrusted him with the task of informing the Jarl of Whiterun.
This worked out perfectly for him, because the warriors he dreamed of joining resided there. And Whiterun just happened to be the centre of commerce in Skyrim, so that was a bonus.

Somehow the Jarl believed his outlandish claim of dragons returning, and sent some men to protect the nearby town of Riverwood.
Admeir was happy to be in Whiterun. From here he could travel to any of the other holds, and finding work was easy. The shopkeepers and people he talked to never seemed to run out of chores for him to do, and they paid well. 

It helped, having some experience with a weapon, but he was quickly outclassed by the various dangers of Skyrim. Hell, he even lost a brawl against the resident bard.
He decided it was time to try to join the Companions.
They were intimidating, but he was determined. Something about him must have been good enough for them, because they let him in. He bid farewell to his bed in the Bannered Mare and moved into Jorrvaskr full time.
Once he was settled in, he sent a letter to his mother in Bruma, reassuring her of his safety. She was furious, but nothing more came of it. He wanted to keep his family updated, and they exchanged letters every few weeks.

He spent the following few months handling whatever odd jobs the Circle gave him, as well as picking up a few more of his own. It helped, having a clean bed and warm food to return to, and soon his pockets began to get heavy with gold. He made friends with some of the newer members, and they occasionally tackled the harder jobs as a group.
Two months after his arrival came his birthday. It was the first one he spent outside of Bruma, and though he thought no one would care, the couple of friends he had managed to make amongst the Companions were more than willing to celebrate it with him.
Whiterun was a welcoming place, and he felt safe within the walls, and at home in the taverns. It was nice there. 

His first big win was against Mikael, the bard he lost shamefully to just a couple of months prior. He claimed victory, relished in the cheers of bystanders, and finally let the poor lady know she was free of the bard's misogyny. It felt good to be liked, and he celebrated hard that night, alongside his new found friends.
He realised that night, three months after his entrance to Skyrim, that perhaps there was something for him there after all.