On the cart ride to Helgen, he finally had a chance to gather his thoughts, realizing that the only thing he had left was a burning hatred for magic. So soon after he had escaped captivity was he once again put in bonds. While they unpacked their "instruments," their prize plaything somehow managed to escape, running as fast as he could towards freedom, towards a new life, a second chance, towards.
The Mages had traveled from country to country with their "test subject" in tow, constantly on the run from guardsmen, witchhunters, and outraged farmers alike, and had set up their latest hideout near the Skyrim border. He could be considered "lucky" that his memories of those experiments are blurred and fractured, but those are his clearest. They took his possessions, his memory, even his name. They tortured him and subjected him to dangerous and vile magical experiments that would turn any College Mage's stomach. Whatever he did have was taken when a traveling sect of particularly nasty magic users crossed his path. He might've had a family, might've been in the process of putting one together. He might've been a soldier, a sellsword, even a common cutthroat in his past. This one is no different. Only thing is, he can't remember it. Every witchhunter's got a sob story, some traumatic event or events to make them who they are.
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