|Professions||Mercenary, Bandit, Drunkard|
|Eyes||Deep Crystal Blue|
Tall and wild.
Combo is a funny sort, unstable as it were. One minute he's there for his comrades, ready to die for what he believes. The next, he's an opportunist, ready to do whatever he must do to survive. Perhaps it would be best for you to form your own opinion when you meet him.
Combo was born not in Cimmeria, but in Asgard, amongst the Æsir, to whom which his father belonged. His mother had been taken captive during a raid nine months before. Young Combo enjoyed life amongst the hardy Norsemen, picking up considerable hunting and fighting skills.
By the time he had grown to be fourteen years of age, he was taken to go on a raid against the Vanir. Unsure what was to happen, Combo was rather apprehensive, perhaps even a bit scared. After a day of skulking through the forest, the camp of the hated Vanir came into view. All fear and apprehension in Combo's mind soon dissolved as he became a seamless part of the tapestry of bloodshed his people were weaving. At the end of the day, the Æsir were victorious, Combo having himself killed at least four fully grown Vanir and one boy a year or two his younger.
Upon return to the village, Combo suffered from bouts of rage, desperately awaiting the next chance for violence. When the time for raiding came, Combo was always the most eager to get to it. He grew to be a powerful warrior, maybe not best in skill, but certainly the most aggressive. He was happy when raiding or fighting, or drinking, or sharing tales by the fireside. Growing older, Combo began to suffer from considerable wanderlust, having a hard time coping with the sameness of day to day life. As it so happened, two of their hunters had been killed by a Vanir raiding party on the way to Cimmeria, with the third hunter making it back to the Æsir to inform them, albeit missing an arm.
Without a second thought, the fighters and trackers assembled and began to follow the trail of the Vanir. Through the forest they went, eventually going through the border to Cimmeria and even further, into the Pictish wilderness. As time went on, they grew closer and closer to the Vanir. Eventually, on open ground, the Vanir were spotted. The Æsir shouted a fearsome war cry and charged forward. Both sides ran, but the Vanir stopped dead, and upon reaching them the Æsir raised their weapons to kill the red-haired enemies, but stopped in their tracks, standing in bewilderment alongside their enemies.
They were looking at a sight none had seen before. It was like a lake, but it went on without end. Stranger still was the wooden thing floating on it, and the robed figure standing atop it, chanting as loud as he could. Combo could sense the energy surging behind the words of the robed figure, then everything went black.
He awoke in a strange place, chained to a bench, rocking back and forth, and sitting next to a Vanir, one of the ones he had previously been meaning to kill.