Like his brothers and father before him, Briac pledged himself in the service of the steward of Gondor at a young age. He grew up as a guardian of the southern Osgiliath garrison and came to understand the way of the sword, as well as the shield. Not to mention the threat that marched from the shadow of Mordor. Briac was an adequate swordsman, but it soon became apparent that his true strengths lie in his mind, not his muscles. Having schooled many young men in the art of war, the garrison commander Anaros took Briac under his wing and began complicated lessons in strategy, as well as tactics. The commander was not disappointed, as the boy quickly took to heart every word, scroll and battle-map. On the tenth year of service the steward commanded Briac and nineteen other soldiers to personal service of the noble family of Sarvan. The head of the house was a close friend of the steward and was to take over a citadel along the Gilrain river. Lord Sarvan, his wife and their four children, brought great change to the lives of all the men drawn from the garrison. Instead of holding back the constant incursions of orcs and worse, they now stood guard over a family, quite far from the frontlines. Still, there were troubles. Stray goblin tribes, packs of hungry wolves and other threats kept the men busy in between their training exercises and routine patrols. Years rolled on forward and change occurred in Briac as well. Now a sergeant at the Citadel of Swans, he had become a trusted ally of the lord, friend to the lady and almost like an uncle to their children. Their second youngest boy, Verad, insisted on training with the soldiers whenever he could, or rather, whenever his mothers eyes were distracted. Listening to the boys tales of chivalry and valor, Briac felt himself somehow invigorated and much like commander Anaros had done to him, took Verad under his tutelage. The boys father did not protest, but rather saw this as a good way to curtail some of his more outlandish ideas and bring a sense of order to his dreams. Several years after, as Briac was nearing his fiftieth year and had just been promoted to the position of Rochben Iaur, veteran knight, the stewards command came again. This time however, it came for lord Sarvan, carried by a mysterious messenger in the middle of the night, bearing the signet ring of Denethor the Second and heavy leather rucksack. After heated discussion, which could be heard even through the citadels thick stonewalls, the messenger left. In the morning lord Sarvan called a Tulkarim consisting of his most trusted men, Briac among them, and gave a mission of utmost urgency. They were to find the sturdiest carriage and load on board a large lock-box filled with bars of gold, as well as stacks of scrolls and old books. This was to be delivered to Edoras, along the Great West Road which hugged the White Mountains. And that was not all. They were to take young master Verad with them. Though Briac had watched the boy grow into a man, now in his twenties, this still came as a surprise. He knew better than to question the purpose of the lords decision, even though the route they would be taking was most perilous. Instead he readied the small force and said his goodbyes to the citadel. A few weeks after they had left home, the caravan was making it's way slowly through southern Rohan, having picked up a few random travelers along the road who knew there would be strength in numbers if goblins or warg would fall upon them. Something different was in store for them. As the caravan was closing in on the Mering Stream, a large group of armed men charged out of their hiding places beneath the scattered slabs of stone that littered the area. Encouraging them forward was a giant of a man, wearing heavy armor and wielding a two-handed sword that bore on its pommel a shining green gem. "Hiran!" exclaimed one of Briacs rohir traveling companions. The greedy men attacked the caravan without mercy and in all the commotion, managed to break through the hastily prepared defensive line. Having engaged two bandits away from the carriage, Briac could only watch from afar, as the young master stood defiant in front of the chest carrying his fathers treasure, but was quickly cut down by Hiran himself. Filled with venomous rage for the first time in years, Briac and the other soldiers began to cut apart the enemy force with terrifying efficiency. Seeing the turn of the tide, Hiran grabbed the lock-box and made for the hills. The bandits who still had the use of their limbs, ran off, leaving five dead. Verad among them. Having failed in his task and seen such violence inflicted on his ward, Briac swore bloody vengeance. Once the remains of the caravan reached Edoras, he wrote a letter to his lord, letting him know that justice was going to be carried out on behalf of his family. In Edoras the veteran soldier, now his mind set on finding and executing the villainous Hiran, began to collect all the stories and information about the infamous bandit. Quickly Briac found out that the man was not a local at all, but hailed from the lands of Cardolan. He started traveling northwest after his quarry and soon noticed that someone else was heading the same way. It was Morhan, a rohir warrior who had accompanied the caravan ever since they had started on the Great West Road near Mount Mindoluin and had fought against the attacking bandits like a fiend. The man was headed the same route, all the way to Tharbad, if not further. The two then set off together and along the dangerous trip, became to understand each other quite well. Although Morhan often seemed far too restless and foolhardy, Briac could not deny that he also had a strong wanderlust and the skills to back it up. After facing many dangers together, the men finally reached Bree and there found a land in turmoil. Helping locals and slaying evil where they find them, they have already started to make a bit of a name for themselves. Briac has not however forgotten his task and is now closing in on Hirans trail. His blood has had time to cool significantly and the blood-lust has given way to his old calm and calculating nature. Hiran does not stand a chance, nor does any fool who would ally themselves with him.