Down from the north rode a wild barbarian,
Down from the north with His sword in His hand.
Down from the north rode Brak the Barbarian,
Seeking the way to a far-distant land.

Bound for the south and the warm climes of Shiring,
Bound for the south where the gold nuggets gleam.
Bound for the south rode Brak the Barbarian,
Seeking His way to His golden dream.

Black was the pain of the wild barbarian,
Black was the pain for the maids on the hill.
Black was the plan of Brak the Barbarian.
He rides ever onward and he rides somewhere still.

The Man known to few, appeared one dark night in the lands of Beware, seeking temporary shelter at the Inn before traveling onward, South toward Shiring. Many thoughts drove Him. Destine to carry out His long awaited plans. Fear of Dragonkind was last on His mind, as His search for His Brother brought Him closer and closer to the fruitation of His efforts.

Born and raised in Torrich Village, in the forgotten Mountains of Ice, the younger of two Brothers, He learned as all Male Children did, the ways of a Warrior. Taught at a tender age the Knight's Code, like His elder Brother, to pledge His life for the ongoing battle against darkness and evil. Sworn to protect and defend the weak, the aged, the humble people of goodness and light everywhere.

Brak did as He was told and tried as hard as He could to uphold the Code, yet everything He did paled in comparison to His Brother in the eyes of His Father. T'was always "pay attention boy, watch Your Brother, learn from Him, follow in His footsteps". However, young Brak, deep inside was not like His Brother, nor did He opt to be a follower and not a leader. Soon His training ended, and He, along with several other young Men, in Ceremony, gained His new title..."Brak Defender of Justice".

By day, He did live up to the distinguished title. By night He chose after much soul searching that this was not His true calling. He dispised His Brother and longed for a life outside the Village. On one such dark night, He packed His belongings, His bastard sword, that He, in secrecy called "Death Dealer". He indeed was a great Warrior in His own right, but to remain inferior to His Brother was more then the young Man could take, and so He rode off into the night upon His black Warhorse, a lead line attached to His second steed, fleet of foot and loyal to His Owner.

The path through the Black Forest was long and treacherous. That same night He saw the flicker of a torch and headed toward it. Before Him, standing tall amongst the forest's concealment was a mansion, like none He had ever seen.

He rode closer, masking His Horses within the forest's depths. Like a thief in the night, He edged near enough to see inside. A Man of obvious wealth accompanied by a slender woman at least half the Man's age. His daughter perhaps? This He didn't know, nor did He care.

In stealth of darkness, He made His way around back, finding the door slightly ajar. A fools mistake. Quietly, He made His way inside, inching silently toward the room from which the voices carried. Once there, three agile strides, His sword drawn, without second thought cutting down both Man and woman. Their blood flowing in riverlets by His unexpected advance.

Stepping over the bodies, having found a decisive thrill through what had just occured, He strode throughout the mansion, appraising it and its contents. Attuned to even the slightest of movement, He moved not an inch, as the sound of odd footfalls moved in contrast to the silence of the home. A door closed, the sound of a bolt sliding shut. He took to the stairs racing upward two steps at a time. A light barely shimmered beneath a doorway at the end of the hall. Brak, without hesitation, moved forward and with a solid kick to the door, and then a second, the frame gave way. There, huddled in a corner was a hideously disfigured man. He again drew His sword, but the pleading and fear in the man's eyes stayed the swing of the blade.

The Knight's Code, now just a memory, led to lies and deceit. Rushing to the small man, He leaned down and lifted him gently, fabricating a tale of the horror He had "discovered" downstairs. Obviously an intruder had killed the little mans Master. Not long after, feigning aid, helping to bury the bodies, He soon discovered it was a simple feat to deceive the servant and make the mansion His own.

His plans have not altered, He still rides out most nights in search of His Brother, stopping here and there, taking a woman for the night, only to discard her at dawn and continue His travels. The afflicted servant, now His own, keeps "His" estate while He is away. Tread cautiously through the Black Forest, rest only when you must, for the dead do beckon, and the home of the Black Knight awaits.