Garrin Delmont is a refugee from the long conquered port city of Scawic. Which means he has been on the run since almost the beginning of Warlord Aryl'Arakas' march across the world. One day, he was a young man, dreaming of keeping the family military tradition alive and joining his father one day in the Scawic marines. The next, he was hastily loaded onto a boat and sent to the mainland with a sea of refugees as a horde assaulted his city.

Garrin doesn't know his father's fate, but he assumes he died fighting to protect the retreating fleet. For three years, he tried to eek out a living with his mother at his side. She was an herbalist of some skill, and she hoped to teach him her valuable knowledge. But the life of a refugee is a hard one. She was struck down by some hideous fever one winter night, leaving him all alone at the age of sixteen. All alone, and with no home to call his own, Garrin wandered with no clear destination in mind save staying one step ahead of the armies of Aryl'Arakas. Armed with the fighting arts taught him by his father, and the survival skills imparted by his mother, Garrin has survived better than most. Though, he isn't to proud to admit that when things were truly dire, he turned to banditry more than once, just to keep alive. Perhaps in penance for these past cruelties, Garrin likes to look out for his fellow refugees whenever possible. Or anyone being savaged by the boot of Aryl'Arakas. For deep in his kind heart, there is an ember of vengeance for his lost childhood and family that has never been snuffed out.

And so the big man travels as he may. Struggling to survive in a world that seems to have gone mad. Dreaming of the day that he might live without the shadow of the Warlord falling over him. But until then, only his wits and strong sword-arm stand between him and a slow, starving death.</tt>