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Erik Galhad

0 · 126 views · located in Kerador

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by FWO

Description

Name: Erik Galhad
Age: 22
Height: 5’10
Weight: 177lbs
Species: Human (Keradoran)
Hair: White
Eyes: Black
Birthplace: Runners, Kerador
Occupation: Scribe
Family: Szeth Galhad (brother), Darwin Galhad III (father), Erika Galhad (mother) (deceased)

Bio
ImageErik Galhad is a fresh-faced tenderfoot eager to explore the diverse lands of AELORA. Mixed with a youthful bravado, his eagerness can make him come across as foolhardy but he is by no means foolish. Intelligent and well-spoken, Erik possesses a quick tongue and is a mean mercantile strategist. His passion however lies in research which he tries to use to make up for his lack of worldly experience. Outside of his comfort zone however, he might be described as nervous and hesitant.
ImageErik is the youngest son of former merchant Darwin Galhad III who, like his father and his father before him was born and raised in RUNNERS. As a jab at his father, he named his first son Szeth and then named his second son after his wife, Erika. He did, however continue on with the family business but went so far as to join the extensive PATRONS GUILD of KERADOR, against his father’s advice.
ImageKerador’s Patrons Guild is operated by a handful of the nation’s wealthiest merchants. Control is the priority of the guild because with control of their trade comes profit. The guild mostly controls the travel trade from city to city throughout the nation and even the little that goes outside of it. They offer loans in the form of money, product and even protection. Those it benefits it does so greatly and those that it does not eventually go under and once a merchant is deep enough in the guild, a combination of debt and favors owed can make it impossible to leave.
ImageDarwin Galhad was a member of the guild for over a decade but when his profits began to drop, the guild reprimanded him. First they forced ‘good intent’ loans on him and then demanded he honor the favors he had incurred. It got to the point where he had to lay off his outside help and even reduce his security detail.
ImageErik wrote letters to the guild heads asking for leniency but they ignored him. It was when his family was forced to sell their modest home in Runners and take to living out of the wagon that Erik became truly outspoken against the guild. Whichever city they went to, Erik preached to whoever would listen about the injustice of the guild and their danger to the economy. While he did not garner a large following, those who were wronged by the guild did listen.
ImageDarwin was not among them and instead pleaded with his son to stop. Szeth agreed with his younger brother but not with his loud tactics and he also tried to get their father to turn his back on the guild. Szeth knew that if his father, a well-respected merchant were to take a stand then others would quickly follow and in that they might stand a legitimate chance.
ImageAt first it seemed as if all of Erik’s ranting paid off when the guild made them a special offer. It seemed that they had managed to broker a deal with a customer they had been trying to barter with for a long time: the native centaur of the ALDWARDINE PLAINS. According to the guild, one of the centaur clans of ORWEYN FOREST offered their services in trade for specialized supplies.
ImageThe Galhads would never come within sight of the forest boarder before being attacked by a brazen tribe of barbarians. They were robbed of their merchandise, their wagon was burned, and most tragically of all, Erika Galhad was murdered.
ImageLife in Kerador would continue as normal for the rest of the population but over the next two years the Galhad family would dissolve as if touched by acid. As Darwin dove in to the bottle, Szeth dove in to the business, doing everything he could to salvage it and support what was left of his family.
ImageWhere his father and brother saw only tragedy, Erik saw conspiracy. He insisted that the men who attacked them were but mercenaries disguised as barbarians, hired by the guild to silence them. He even scoffed at their gesture of ‘good will’ when they forgave his father’s remaining debts. But Erik’s accusations actually hurt his attempted rallying for support since any merchant who did believe him would certainly not risk crossing the guild after such a cruel and effective display.
ImageTensions only grew between Erik and his father with Szeth constantly playing mediator. Darwin called his son a fool who wasted his time with books rather than help his family while Erik accused his father of being a coward for not standing up to the guild.
ImageSo Erik left Runners behind him and eventually Kerador altogether with the rest of Aelora ahead of him. Though he does not yet know how, Erik intends to gather evidence of the guild’s corruption and present it to those merchants who do not share in their venality.

Runners
ImagePossibly the oldest city in the nation, Runners was so named because in its earliest days it was home to those primarily charged with running messages between the growing communities of Kerador. Barely large enough to be considered one of the city-states, Runners remains independent of its surrounding neighbors through the stone will of the barbarian ancestry of its residents.

So begins...

Erik Galhad's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

0.00 INK

#, as written by FWO
“I can’t help but to feel guilty. Not for what I said to my father. I will always stand by that. My mother’s death was as much his fault as it was the doing of the guild. Yet I cannot help but feel like I could have approached the situation with more subtlety, like Szeth told me. I scared the other merchants when I accused the guild of being directly responsible for my mother’s death. I should have taken more care and made them seem indirectly responsible instead. I could have pointed out how it was their lack of empathy for their members that allowed these ‘barbarians’ to so easily attack my family. I could hav~`,-”

ImageErik’s pen scratched across the paper when the wagon hit a bump in the road. He sighed in frustration but not because of the bumpy ride. In fact, the roads between the city-states of Kerador were usually smooth but those near Runners had become increasingly worse over the years.
ImageThe smallest of Kerador’s city-states boasted independence that most of the others could not but they also did not enjoy the financial support that could come from political subjugation. Their stone walls were still tall and imposing but closer inspection showed that they were becoming weak. Runners’ citizens were much the same in that they appeared to be durable and ready to die before subjecting themselves to outside rule but the city’s young people were leaving in droves and soon only the old would remain.
ImageErik Galhad was among those youth who were leaving but his reasons were more complex than simply wanting to move on to bigger and grander things. He was a scribe and that meant he was just as content nose-diving in to a book as seeing the sights of the big city. He was also leaving the family occupation behind as he had no taste for the merchant’s trade after his dealings with the Patrons Guild.
ImageRipping the page out of his otherwise blank journal, Erik let the summer breeze steal it from his grasp. His eyes followed it as it seemed to dance in the wind but then it zipped out of sight and behind the rolling wagon. He poked his head out to watch it go but when he did he could not take his eyes off the city of his birth being engulfed by the horizon.
ImageThe stone gaze of the guard who rode on horseback beside the wagon seemed to soften when he looked Erik’s way. He opened his mouth as if to say something but then seemed to change his mind and looked away, the thick brush of hair on his upper lip quivering as if he were nervous.
ImageErik nothing if not perceptive, noticed this and looked up at the man. He seemed to study his face, trying to recognize him but if he had ever met the man then he could not recall from where.
Image“I used to work for your father,” the man suddenly said. His voice was gruff but the way he made it a point not to look at Erik spoke of shame…or pity. “You look like him, you know?”
ImageErik’s dark eyebrows arched in recognition but then they narrowed when the man compared him to his father. “Yeah, I know. What of it?”
Image“Just being polite, sir,” the guard kicked the horse’s rump that sent it in to a trot ahead of the wagon.
ImageErik immediately felt guilty but like his father, he was stubborn and instead of trying to apologize, he huffed and leaned back with his arms crossed. The guard obviously worked for the guild and was paid to accompany merchants as they traveled.
He must have traveled with the Galhads at one time and that meant that like most everyone associated with the guild, he was aware of the tragic story concerning his mother. Erik had grown tired of pity two years ago, shortly after his mother’s murder.
ImageIn fact, he was sure that the merchant who was giving him a lift free of charge was doing so only out of pity but at this point, he no longer cared. The name Galhad garnered only sympathy or contempt among those in Kerador associated with the Patrons Guild and Erik could not be away from it all soon enough.
ImageThe wagon rolled at a steady pace until the road became too uneven to make sitting inside comfortable any longer. So Erik hopped out and walked along side it, eventually falling behind a little. He moved with the pace of a young man though he looked a decade older than he really was.
ImageHis long white hair seemed to shine in the light and was so thick that only the color may have made him appear older. Yet it was the lines in his face that really made him look so much older. He seemed to always have tired bags under his eyes and his mother always teased him that the lines around his mouth came from generations of Galhads frowning too often. This actually made him smile but the lines did not disappear.
ImageSo lost in thought, Erik did not notice the wagon moving farther and farther ahead of him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

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#, as written by Tiko
It was pushing nightfall by the time Erik set eyes upon the small caravan once more, but even at this distance and in the dwindling light of twilight one could tell that something was amiss. The wagon lay overturned on the side of the road, and there was no sign of movement or of the horses save where one lay motionless in the road.

The horse's coat was slick with blood where several arrows were embed in its neck and chest, while the rider lay trapped beneath the fallen beast. A broken spear protruded from his armor where it had slipped between the metal plates to bury itself in his side.

The horse had long since drawn its last breath, but the rider still drew rasping wheezes between his blood tinted lips. The man was none other than the guard who had sought to engage Erik in conversation earlier that day.

The wagon itself had been ransacked, its goods pillaged and the bodies of the merchants strew across the side of the road where they had been skewered by spear and sword. One man's face was caved in from a blunt blow and his remaining eye stared vacantly.

It was unusual for the roving bandits and barbarians of the Kerador plains to strike this close to the city, but desperation was driving them closer and closer to civilization each year. The purging of the voidling taints from Aelora had not restored the once abundant plains herds that had proliferated Kerador prior to the time of the fall, nor had it drawn ravished ecosystems back from extinction. The human populations were growing and expanding by the year, but the land struggled to heal and to provide for the growing numbers of settlements. The nomadic peoples suffered the worst, as hunting was slim and they hadn't the resources or know-how to lay down roots and turn to farming. Starvation had turned the once noble clans to pillaging and stealing.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

0.00 INK

#, as written by FWO
ImageThe air was cool against Erik’s sweat-streaked face. He tied his topknot a little tighter to keep the loose strands from sticking to his forehead and for the first time since he was a boy traveling Kerador with his father, he felt free. The world was wide around him and the plains were beautiful in the fading light. It had been such a long time since Erik had taken the time to admire the landscape.
ImageWhile the heat of the day still lingered, the breeze was chilly and had Erik readjusting his plain brown cloak, pulling it tighter around his broad shoulders. Wrapped in a cloak or his preferred baggy attire, Erik Galhad looked like he might possess an imposing figure but despite being nearly 180 pounds, his stomach was more of a gut and his chest was flabby. His shoulders and back were strong from years of heavy lifting but even in that he lacked endurance.
ImageAs the sun began to set, Erik picked up his pace. He was confident that the wagon was not too far ahead of him but he still did not mean to fall so far behind. He smiled when he saw a glow in the distance, believing they had stopped early to set up camp and start a fire. Hours hunched over books and reading by candlelight left Erik with relatively poor eyesight but it did not take him long to realize something was amiss.
ImageThe wagon was turned over and the front seat was blackened from a dwindling fire. Without even thinking that whoever did this might still be there, Erik ran towards the wagon.
Image“Franks! Albert! Is everybody okay? Guard!” Erik had seen his mother killed right in front of his eyes but he still gasped and gagged when he tripped over Albert, Franks’ young son. His face had been smashed in and try as he might Erik could not tear his gaze away.
ImageYet even over the sound of his gagging as he threw up in the grass, Erik heard the dying breaths of the guard not so far away. Desperate for answers and for a familiar voice, Erik managed to push himself to his feet and stumble over to the blood-caked horse and the man beneath it.
Image“Er-ik,” the guard sputtered, barely able to speak as blood filled his lungs.
Image“Stay alive. Please.” Too frightened to even comfort the dying man, it was all Erik could say.
Image“S-sword. M-my sw-ord,” the guard’s final words were those of a man drowning on his own blood and having the breath crushed out of his lungs by the dead beast atop of him. Yet with his one free arm, he managed to reach under the horse and tug at his sword still in its sheath.
ImageShaking beyond control and barely keeping himself from sobbing, Erik laid his head on the man’s shoulder and cried. The man had said his name when he saw him. He had said his name because he had once worked for his father; worked to protect his family from such a fate as this.
ImageYet he never knew the man’s name.

ImageNot really sure how much time passed, Erik managed to stand up and wipe the tears from his face. There were arrows and spears everywhere and so he knew better than to think that there would be any supplies left. Still he searched for his own pack since barbarians would have little need for a scribe’s supplies. When he couldn’t find it he sat against the back end of the wagon, letting his eyes linger on the stars above.
ImageHe thought of the times he would play outside the walls of Runners with his brother and the other boys of the neighborhood. He thought of the times his mother would read him stories before he went to sleep. She had been nearly illiterate when he was born but was determined to better herself when she saw how much her baby boy loved books and stories. He even thought of his father and the good times they had.
Image“What do I do now?” Erik asked aloud, for no better reason than to break the silence of the night. “Back home? I have no supplies. My money will do me no good out here.”
ImageHe had to close his eyes and bite his cheeks to stop from crying again. He never felt so weak before in his life. Without meaning to, he laid his head against the wagon and fell asleep.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezrael, The Atrocious Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

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A sharp high-then-low whistle pierced the early-morning air. Dew had settled on the ground about and the scavengers had come out to pilfer what they could from the bodies. A magpie pecked at the forgotten coinpurse of one man that lay open, beak darting to thieve what shinies it could find before it darted away into the air. Flies lazily drifted over from their morning wake to feast upon the gristle and grime of dead bodies. The cool night would be a mercy that a warm day would not bring. Corpses would inevitably bloat if not burned or buried and soon it would be uninhabitable for all the company and smell it brought.

The whistle had not belonged to the wildlife, but to a man of fine dark clothing and soft features in his face. "You're not dead," he said astutely, having made the previous noise to stir Erik awake, and had that failed he was getting to the point. He stood with the sun on his back, basking in it with a calm smile on his face, as if he had just found the other man asleep by a riverside and not on the edge of the past nights reaping.

"And I suspect that this wasn't your work." Another radical deduction. Yes Ezrael was a master sleuth, forming basic observations of the world around him and telling them to whoever was unfortunate enough to be near. The violence of the scene did not touch him. In fact, Erik would be spared his callous picking through the bodies and rolling them with his foot to see if they were alive, as he had already done so, only coming upon Erik when he passed the end of the caravan.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezrael, The Atrocious Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

0.00 INK

#, as written by FWO
ImageThe whistle stirred somewhere deep in Erik’s subconscious but it was the stranger’s voice that actually woke him up. His eyes opened slowly and he immediately shielded them from the sun. The silhouette of the stranger alarmed him when he saw curling horns and piercing, unnatural eyes staring down at him. The smell of death baking in the sun all around him certainly did not help either.
ImageWith a half-hearted kick at the stranger’s ankles, Erik managed press himself against the wagon in to a more upright, sitting position. When a cloud drifted in front of the sun, though he could see that it was not some sort of demon or voidling from his nightmares but just a man.
ImageWith the cobwebs cleared, Erik recalled the events of last night and he was dismayed all over again. Yet when he looked up at this man, his cynicism trumped his despair and he managed a sneer. “Are you from the guild?”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezrael, The Atrocious Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

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Given the chance to talk, Ezrael would. His curtness fell away almost immediately at the opportunity to prattle on about nonsense. As such, his mouth fell open in fake-shock. "I am deeply offended that you would even consider me to be a part of those... Savages." His mouth closed once more as he pondered the matter by staring distantly into the air. "Though, perhaps it would help if I knew what this guild was."

There was a quirk in the corner of his mouth, a self-pleased smile as he bent forward and offered out a hand. It was a sign of friendship, but also to help the man up. "I am Ezrael. A journeyman." He tactfully chose to reserve comments of disappointment at the lack of money on corpses, which he would happily have pilfered for food and accommodation down the line.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezrael, The Atrocious Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

0.00 INK

#, as written by FWO
ImageWithout a second thought, Erik reached up and grabbed the man's hand and let him help him to his feet. He was glad to see anybody after the events of last night and the presence of another person would help him ignore the guilt that was welling up inside of him. He had to consciously force himself to keep his eyes on the man and not look back. He could still smell the smoke and could still see Albert's face caved in whenever he blinked.
Image"I'm sorry, I did not mean to accuse you of anything," Erik said haltingly, pretending to wipe away sweat when really he was wiping away tears. "I never saw the attack. I was- I was lagging behind and when I caught up they were all.." he couldn't even finished. Deep in the back of his mind he could still hear the nameless guard's dying breaths.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezrael, The Atrocious Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

0.00 INK

"Dead? Yes, unlucky isn't it." He stared out over the bodies in thought for a moment. "Unlucky for you I mean. Those men all have conclusions to their journey but you are still on yours." He shrugged indifferently, as if the matter was already settled. "Well unless you're already planning your revenge, you should probably get a move on to where you were going and hope for the best. Not much that can be done here, really. Personally I'd pilfer a sword, oh, but I suppose these aren't the sorts to have swords are they?"

"Well, a cudgels still a good stiff weapon for a fighting arm, hm?" He finally turned his head back to Erik." One might point out the hypocrisy of Ezrael himself carrying no weapon, but that was intentional. Any chance to talk about himself some more was taken over personal security.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezrael, The Atrocious Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

0.00 INK

#, as written by FWO
ImageErik's brow furrowed when Ezrael turned around. The man's nonchalant attitude was suspicious and he was beginning to wonder if he really was from the guild. Nobody survived for long in the Aldwardine Plains without some measure of security and Ezrael was unarmed. He didn't even seemed the slightest bit phased by the human carnage all around them. If not for recent events, these are all clues Erik would have caught earlier.
ImageWithout breaking face, Erik nodded solemnly and walked towards the guard trapped under the horse. He held his breath, taking quick gasps through his nose as needed. He kept his eyes focused as best he could on the horse, not wanting to see the guard's stricken face. When he reached the horse, Erik knelt down and stuffed his arm under the fallen beast. He had to close his eyes and turn his head just to keep from retching.
ImageWhen his hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword, he tugged as hard as he could and though it popped from the sheath, he had to yank a few more times to get it out from under the horse. He fell backwards with sword in hand and though he gagged and coughed at the smell, he had nothing to throw up. When the dizziness passed him, Erik practically jumped to his feet and held the sword awkwardly in front of him.
Image"Who are you," he demanded shakily, waving the sword in both hands in an attempt to look menacing. It was a simple, straight blade with a square hilt. It was a one-handed sword but Erik looked prepared to swing it like a club if necessary.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezrael, The Atrocious Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

0.00 INK

Ezrael had pretended not to look in Erik's direction though he spied him from the corner of his eyes, until the man turned to face him at which point he went back to staring idly around the area. When addressed he turned once more and tilted his head. "Did I not say?" he inquired with an eyebrow raised, paying no heed to the sword. He dropped into a formal bow, one arm curling in front of his chest and the other to the side, dusting aside his cloak. For a moment he let his mind wander, thinking the gesture was similar to that of a handshake; indicating he had no weapon, before he rose again.

"I am Ezrael," he stated simply. He opened his mouth to continue, but let it fall shut and let out a soft sigh in his throat. He had wanted to boast. To taunt the mans inability to wield the weapon properly and use this opportunity to show off like a peacock. But just... something stuck in his chest that he shouldn't. Maybe he was growing up.

"Look, stop, you're going to get yourself hurt acting like that. Put the sword away at least until you find someone to teach you, and never-" he was going to tell the man not to turn a sword on a stranger unless you suspected them, but then he realized the implications. "Oh," he ended dumbly.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezrael, The Atrocious Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

0.00 INK

#, as written by FWO
ImageErik arched an eyebrow as the man appeared to ramble. He was not entirely sure what to make of his randomness but he was not about to put the sword down and even made it a point to inch forward. "I do not care about your name, stranger. I want to know who you are! What are you doing in a place like this unarmed? Nobody travels these plains alone and without a weapon and lives long to tell about it. Are you with those who attacked the caravan last night? Or the guild? Stop patronizing me and answer!"
ImageErik's arms were already starting to ache from holding the sword in such an awkward manner but he still continued to move forward. The fact that the man was unarmed gave him confidence even as his feet merely shuffled in the grass. He was sure the man was stalling until his comrades arrived. By this time he was positive he must be with the guild as it would make no sense for marauders to return to the scene.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezrael, The Atrocious Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

0.00 INK

Ezrael folded his arms and prepared to give this man quite a telling off to put him in his place, but caught himself and clamped his jaw firmly shut. He thought for a moment, then some moments more, before it dawned on him. "Are you on the run?" He sharply swished a hand through the air as if to cut off any response that might immediately follow. "Forget it, I didn't come to this land to get involved in other peoples battles."

He let his hand fall as he lent slightly forward and added, "However I am most definitely armed."

Leaning back he almost nonchalantly finally answered the man, at least in some measure. "I am with no one but myself. I came here to study two things and I am doubtful a guild has either of them. But you're welcome to test if I am lying with borrowed blade."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezrael, The Atrocious Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

0.00 INK

#, as written by FWO
Image"I'm not running from anything," Erik growled. "And what do you mean you're armed? You'd better quit speaking in riddles, stranger because I'm the one with the sword." He jabbed the sword forward the way one might point with their finger when trying to make a point. "Now give me a straight answer!"
ImageNever any good at masking his emotions, it was obvious that Erik's nerves were on edge. He was gripping the sword so hard that his knuckles were turning white and only the tension in his whole body kept him from noticeably shaking. Sweat dripped down the side of his face and he felt like he had been standing here for a week while the world went on around him. He swore that the smell was getting worse with each passing second.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezrael, The Atrocious Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

0.00 INK

"Alright then," Ezrael projected simply into the air, raising his arms up to fold them before his chest and stiffening in his posture. "I am here to find those with ancient wisdom, a wisdom that is not handed out to the common man. You may know of the people I seek, ancient monks gifted in the martial arts. They have honed their bodies into pure weapons, able to overcome even armed and armoured foes with nothing but their fists."

He paused to breath and contemplate what he might say next, eyes momentarily growing distant and staring into the air, then dropping for a moment. His throat was cleared before he continued. "You know, you remind me of a man I once knew. If you lower the sword, we can leave this place of carnage and I will tell you of him."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezrael, The Atrocious Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

0.00 INK

#, as written by FWO
ImageErik lowered the sword but not because the stranger had requested him to do so. Truth be told, his shaking arms could barely hold it up any longer. Yet besides just that, Ezrael's answer had intrigued him. His scholarly nature overcame his paranoia, evidenced by the quizzical look that suddenly came over his face.
Image"Monks? In Aelora?" It was all Erik could come up with at the moment. Surely they were not unheard but neither were they common place. The sheer unlikelihood of finding any monks since The Void made the man's story seem nearly unbelievable. But then since the appearance of the Crossroads, many strangers had filtered in to Aelora and this often made native Aelorans more than a little nervous, even paranoid.
Image"I'm afraid you will find little in the way of monks native to this land, stranger. And those that do exist are most likely travelers and meeting them will be as much up to chance as anything else."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezrael, The Atrocious Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

0.00 INK

Ezrael's cheeks pulled downwards in a frown and a look of contemplation crossed his features. "Well, nonetheless," he said with a weary sigh, "I can still seek, even if I do not find." Despite the words, he didn't feel his confidence waver. If he were to give up after the first thing someone said he would get no where in any time! No, he would just have to press on. In fact, seeking out people was probably the first thing he should do, not pick through corpses in the wilderness for whatever he could pilfer.

"Tell me, was this caravan on the way to a city? It has occurred to me that maybe the roads aren't safe," he said with no note of humour or irony in his voice. His arms finally unfolded as a hand gestured towards Erik, "I'd welcome a guide, if you'd welcome back up."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ezrael, The Atrocious Character Portrait: Erik Galhad

0.00 INK

#, as written by FWO
ImageErik frowned and tried not to look around him but he could not help it. He did not know them all that well except for in passing but death would never sit well with him the way it did with a soldier. The sword in his hand suddenly felt like a stone and he left the tip dig unceremoniously in to the grass. His grip was still tight on it, though as if it was the only tangible thing in his world at the moment.
Image"They were merchants who traveled between Kerador's city-states. Now-a-days, it would seem that even the roads of the Aldwardine Plains are not safe, if any place in Aelora is." Erik could not think of a reason to turn the man down. He could not return to Runners, not with news of death. He would surely be ostracized by the community then and he certainly could not press forward alone.
ImageIf this Ezrael had meant him harm then surely he could have done so by now, even with sword in hand. Erik knew that it did not take a genius to figure out that he had no business holding a soldier's tool.
Image"I am not much of a guide," Erik said. "But I do know these roads well enough. Let me see if I can find my supplies and we will be off." Erik regretted his words almost as soon as he said them when he turned around and once more faced the carnage of the caravan.