Hansomme Combe, 6'2" of rock hard muscle and cat-like reflexes, enjoys long walks on the beaches of Praelith's gold bay and the occassional pina colada, but as an adventurer, has been looking for love in all the strangest places...
STR: 17 DEX: 13 CON: 15 INT: 10 WIS: 9 CHA: 12
Weapons: long sword, great axe Armor: Chain mail, helm
Hansomme grew to adulthood fighting everyone around him, especially if a bonny lass was nearby to witness his victory. Having acheived his extraordinary maximum height by age fourteen, his was far more often than not victorious—however a lady love has always been fairly illusive. Drawn initially by his fabulous looks and brauny strength, most damsels shy away when the most articulate answer to any question posed is “duh, huh?” followed by renewed attempts to grope. Poor Hansomme. Though his standard retort to any question more stimulating than “is it raining?” has always been “duh, huh?”, he is quite well versed in poetry and will, after a victorious defeat of some foe, happily recite Aichmann’s The Fall of Fey Lord Smarmy in the original Elfin tongue, with feeling, much to the continued shock and amazement of his companions who still have yet to hear him utter a complete, grammatically correct sentence in the common tongue.