Erik Tri-Derbelk

Erik adjusts his strap of his broad sword, not happy that it isn't sitting quit right,
his big gnarled fists reach back and adjusts the straps so that it sits more
comfortably between his massive shoulders. His steely eyes stare out from sunken
sockets black with tiredness, and years of long adventures. His scares seem to
continually ache in good weather or bad not giving him any rest. They cover his face,
his bare shoulders and arms almost writing his history across his body. What little hair
he has remaining is black, wispy left free to give the impression of a mad hatter or those
scientists that used to cackle maniacally over the simplest triumph. Erik on the other hand
is quieter, leaving his overwhelming physique talk for him.