Totals Scores:
Str 17, Dex 10, Con 17, Int 8, Wis 10, Cha 13

Mountain Dwarf, 49 years old, 4'6'', 150 lbs, lawful good, proficient with brewer's supplies (among other things).

At 49 he had almost made it through his childhood alive. ďNext year would be spent at the grown-upís table or my name isnít Sekhmet!Ē That was his name, and his grandmother's. His grandmother felled a dragon on top of their clanís mountain by her 50th year. The heroic act ensured that the rest of her lineage would be trained as warriors during their youth, just in case there was some natural talent in their blood. And so Sekhmet was born with a warhammer laid in his lap. But that kid also had a real passion for brewing alcohol. Rooting out goblins was his life by day, and by night he was experimenting with new brews and spirits or selling them to taverns. Eventually he started wandering out of the mountain during his free time to find people to trade ingredients and sell his concoctions. His reputation among the human traders was really taking off.

One day the traders werenít in their usual location. Thinking they might have run into trouble, Sekhmet started down the valley and eventually to the foothills. It was here that he was ambushed, who knows how long they had followed him, but the ambush was carefully planned and he barely escaped with his life as they shouted something about a dragon cultís vengeance and how they havenít forgotten. Fearing they were looking for the secret entrance to his clanís mountain, he ran out over the foothills and through the plains, heading toward Greenest with hopes to lie low for a few days, and maybe sell some of this beer.