Maquin grew up in a small village nestled in the plains of Rohan. He was a spirited lad, like many others, spending his days practicing with wooden swords and shields, dreaming of riding with the riders of the Riddermark. He enjoyed the camaraderie of his village and the simple life of a Rohirrim. There was a lightness to his step and a ready smile on his face.

While out on a scouting trip miles away from his homeland Maquin was ambushed. Men sprouted out of the shadows and quickly overpowered him, though putting up a valiant fight Maquin was eventually knocked unconscious.

Maquin was dragged across land and sea, eventually arriving at a grim, coastal fortress controlled by the corsairs. He was thrown into the fighting pits, a brutal arena where captives were forced to fight each other for the amusement of the corsairs and their foul masters. Slaves were pitted against each other, against wild beasts, and even against seasoned Corsair fighters for the amusement and profit of their captors. He endured unimaginable horrors, witnessing and experiencing unspeakable cruelty. He learned to kill and to survive in a world stripped of all decency. He witnessed the depths of human depravity and experienced it himself. The fights were relentless, each victory only earning him another day of servitude. One particularly savage bout, against a hulking brute wielding a spiked flail, resulted in the sickening blow that robbed him of his right eye and left a jagged scar across his face. It was a turning point. Survival became paramount, and he abandoned any semblance of his former self to become a ruthless fighter. He discovered a brutal efficiency with twin daggers, weapons more easily concealed and maneuvered in the cramped confines of the pits. He rose through the ranks, becoming a formidable and feared pit fighter.After years of relentless fighting, Maquin saw an opportunity. A chaotic raid on the corsair fortress created confusion and loosened security. He used his cunning and brutal skills honed in the pits to fight his way out, slipping away under the cover of darkness. He stole a meager supply of provisions and made his escape, a broken and scarred shadow of his former self.

Maquin returned to Rohan a changed man. His homecoming was bittersweet. His family and village welcomed him with open arms, but the carefree lad they knew was gone. He was withdrawn, haunted by nightmares, and deeply distrustful. He struggled to readjust to the peaceful rhythm of Rohan life. He found solace only in solitude and the sharpening of his blades. Then he met Evrain. Evrain was a young lad, brimming with youthful energy and a spirit as bright as Maquin’s was dark. Despite his gruff exterior, Maquin saw a spark in Evrain, a reflection of the innocence he had lost. Perhaps drawn by a subconscious desire to protect that innocence, or perhaps simply because Evrain's cheeky persistence wore down his defenses, Maquin took the young man under his wing. He taught Evrain the basics of combat, the practicalities of survival, and the harsh realities of the world, though he tried to shield him from the darkest truths he himself carried. Evrain, in turn, despite often being the target of Maquin's grumbling, brought a sliver of light back into the warrior's shadowed existence. Maquin found a strange, grudging affection for the boy, a quiet amusement in his boundless enthusiasm and ill-timed jokes. He saw Evrain as the younger brother he never had, a bond forged in the quiet moments between training sessions and shared meals, despite the constant verbal sparring.

Evrain, restless and eager to see more of the world, eventually left Rohan to seek his own path. Maquin, though outwardly dismissive, felt a pang of loss. He remained in Rohan, He remained in Rohan, continuing to train young warriors and acting as a silent guardian, a solitary figure guarding the borders, but the peace felt fragile. Rumors began to circulate – whispers of shadowy figures, dark rituals, and the growing influence of those who served the ancient evils of the world. These whispers resonated deeply with Maquin, stirring the unease he had carried since his time in the pits. He recognized the stench of corruption, the chilling presence of genuine evil. Acting with a newfound purpose, and a growing dread settled in his heart he knew he could no longer stay put. The rumors, combined with his concern for Evrain, who was now out in the wider world, spurred him to action.