Gondorian born, Gondorian raised. That's Connwear.

He doesn't often speak of his life as a child, probably because folk don't ask. But he grew up in Minas Tirith with his two older brothers, the oldest being eighteen when Conn was born. They cared for him, until they left for war and he left to travel, always wanting to see a bit more of the world.

Landed himself in Bree when he was just turning twenty, and joined a few different soldiering groups, fought on multiple different fronts. From Trestlebridge, to Ost Guruth, then up into Oatbarton. He had the time of his life, really, and to this day he still reminisces about those days when he's had a few drinks in him.

But then his brothers died, and he was called back to Gondor. Wouldn't be right if he wasn't there for their funerals, would it? Once there, he bit down on the recruiter's lies and signed up for another two years of soldiering with the Minas Tirith guard. He fought too many times to recall. He saw horrors of all kinds. Death, destruction and mutliation. Connwear took nothing back from this experience, nothing of benefit.

Why he came back to Bree is something he gets quite defensive about. But he came back, and he's better off with it. He now has a bounty of new friends and more than a few reasons to be a cheerful soul again.

He's recently taken up position as The Mad Queen, his crazed alter-ego whom only appears when he is in the company of Ameren or when he is heavily drunk. When he begins to act as this crazed monarch, his voice is raised in pitch and volume, his chest puffs out and he will speak whatever first comes to mind, with no consideration for how strange and twisted it might seem.