Khorne

"A man of the North I am, fisk. What gave it away?" Eric rhetorically asked. With his usual smug grin he continued, "You drive a hard bargain, but then again, the North brings forth nothing but products of the highest quality, well worth the coin." The Nord searched his pockets and took out fifty gold. "I'll have two." He raised his eyebrow and added "pretty please", his grin growing wider. As the bartender took out the mead, Eric arrogantly tossed the coins towards him. He chuckled as the bartender had to pick up some coins off the floor. For the amount of money he had paid, he wanted at least some amusement, too.

Eric felt offended when Attina called his people nothing but a rag-tag bunch of bullies. More than that, though, he was concerned by these 'internal struggles' Attina had mentioned. 'All is chaos' is a term many mockingly used when describing the stability, or rather lack thereof, of the political situation in the Northern lands. There have always been power struggles. After all, isn't it only normal that it is the strongest one who takes the crown? But the internal struggles never dominated over the external projection of power. Something must be seriously afoot when the Vikings let word of their internal weakness get out like this. The Nord grinned as he heard the High Kingdoms were the victim of the Northern raids. "The hunting grounds of clan Sindrung," he thought, "looks like my old brother-in-law is eager to prove himself as a capable leader in the wake of his father's untimely demise." He spoke no more of the situation and simply thanked Attina for her information. He put the thoughts aside and tried to focus on the mission at hand. Eric smiled slyly and calmly said: "I served him as fodder to those vicious sharkgulls. He was screaming like a small child when tore him apart. Not much of a surprise, really, he was a rather pathetic pirate, anyway. Drowning him or throwing his corpse in the seas so Njordon the Sea God could offer him a place as an oarsman on his mighty dragonboat was too much of an honour for him." He paused and then looked at Nerwen, grinning. "I highly doubt that he still has plans for settling a score with Reno." The Nord then walked straight to the bar, like the bald Raider had done a minute before. He looked around and scanned the denizens of this establishment. When the bartender showed up, Eric asked: "Seeing that this is obviously an establishment for the better sailors and sea-worthy, do you happen to serve any good quality Nordic Mead? Don't try to fool me and serve up some sorry Southern excuse for decent Mead. I'll know the difference, I have a sixth sense when it comes to alcohol." The Nord smirked and his eyes burned bright with malice. He loved to be back. "How much for a gaze at one of those bosoms covered only by clams?" Eric mischievously added and smiled his teeth bare.

Presented with yet another specimen of House Bonaparte, Eric once more played the charming card. He nodded his head in appreciation of Attina's words and laughed slickly. “Acts of bravery is just what I do, milady.” The Nord's blue eyes stared into hers intently. He added, “We will find your uncle. It's seems we have to, a more free Crystalline Sea is a benefit to all.” His posture then got more stern again. “You mentioned problems in the North. Care to share some light on that subject? It's … been a while since I last saw my home. I'd appreciate anything you can tell me.”

I posted a picture in the Hall some time ago, but it got burried by the other posts. I'd better add it to my profile page for future reference.

I always it when QM's can include the characters in their quest . Your minifig collection must be huge Sandy, to build all these characters. I wouldn't even be able to build any of the other characters ('cept Haldor, maybe). If I may nitpick, though, Eric has brown hands and old dark grey/black hips pants. But those are just details, really. I also like the banner you made for the quest, looks promising !

"I wasn't merely in the party that rescued Reno, I led the party." the Norse Raider boastfully corrected Hestia. With a charming smile he then added, "I'm always glad to lend my aid to the most upstanding of all Great Houses in Eubric,..." The tall Nord slightly bowed and finished his sentence "..., Madame." His smile slowly faded into a sly grin. Inside, Eric vehemently loathed the Bonapartes and all they stood for, but in the light of bigger schemes he couldn't let his hate thwart his chance at earning some coin and if possible even assist the pirate Reno with his plan. Ooc: I only have 86 gold right now. Other than that, my stats seem fine. EDIT: Just noticed Chromeknight posted, as well. The Elven Shaman in the party spoke. Eric shortly, but sternly, eyed her with his cold blue eyes as she called him 'boy'. There then came another faint smile to his otherwise serious face. He didn't really liked to be called a 'boy', but this seemed different. The Elf had fire burning in her and he liked it. "Every time of the day is a good time for drink and sleazy pubs. Besides, I doubt Nemo will be of much assistance anyway. Nothing we can't handle on our own."

Before heading towards the Bonaparte fortress island, Eric decides to stop by Porthia's potion shack first. There, he buys 5 Nostrums (-175) and 5 Smelling Salts (-125). This leaves him with 86 gold.

If that's the case, let the game of seduction begin !

Luckily for Eric, the supply of alcholic beverages seemed near limitless in the Heroica Hall. It had helped him sit through the long theological the other heroes seemed to be having. Eric had been utterly annoyed by monk Pretzel's ridiculous statements, but the Nord had decided to stay out of it and not react. After all, the monk can't help it that he has mental shortcomings. Sometime during his long life the man must've suffered injuries that have induced severe brain damage. Eric finished his drink and got up. He sure as hell wouldn't spend any more time with Pretzel. "Of course I know I got picked. You honestly didn't expect to stand a chance on getting chosen for that quest, did you?" the tall Raider mockingly said as he left the table. "I would've loved talking some more with you, but alas I do have a quest to complete." Even the most socially illiterate person would've caught the sarcasm in Eric's last statement. With that, he left to Hall to do some last-minute shoppi,g.

Recognizing Erdathcath's voice, Eric slowly turned his head towards the Elven Druid, away from Mcency. He managed to pull of a charming smile and even got up to greet the Druid. He nodded. "Erdathcath. Always a pleasure and delight to the eye to see you. I'm fine, thank you very much", he calmly replied, though with the necessary showmanship. The Nord sat down again and motioned Erdathcath to take a seat as well. He gestured the Orcish bartender to bring his company some drinks. "So how did you fare on the errand run for the old alchemist? Did he manage to build his staff?" Eric smirked. He could've asked monk Pretzel, or maybe even the other old guy, but he'd rather have someone interesting tell him the story.

OOC: I was under the impression Eric and Pretzel were not sitting anywhere near Boomingham and Guts, so Sarge probably couldn't have heard what Eric and Pretzel were talking about. But anyway, as you started talking, it'd be rude not to reply . The Nord sharply turned his face towards the interrupting stranger, another old coot. Seems like Heroica was turning into some retirement home for the elderly. The vague trace of emotion and slight amusement that had dominated his face when talking to Pretzel were gone. Rebutting monk Pretzel's ignorant remarks was entertaining in a way. It was almost fun to bash the hermit's foolish ramblings. Being interrupted by some righteous old-timer who seems quite full of himself isn't entertaining. Nor fun. In any way. Eric frowned once more and eyed the cripple, old man intently. The man talked about respect, but it seemed he hardly grasped the concept. Respect has to be earned. This "Mcency"-type hadn't done anything to earn Eric's respect yet. "Go back to your drink, old man, you don't know what you're talking about. Don't waste your time meddling with other people's affairs. It's quite a precious commodity for a man of your age"

Eric annoyedly sighed as he heard Monk Pretzel's voice. "I drowned a guy and took his gear during my leave. That dark enough for you, monk?" The Nord raised an eyebrow an smirked. He seemed amused, even though his words had been spoken with venom and bitterness. Eric's smirk then turned to faint fake smile, but the cold tone in his voice remained. He frowned. "I wouldn't've expected anything less from you, taking such pleasure in killing a mighty being. You're blinded by your foolish ignorance, spurred on by your pathetic religious zealotism. So sad, really, being such a puppet to your weakling god. In a way, I would feel sorry for you if I cared about you, but as we both already know, I don't care even the slightest bit, biscuit-boy."

Other than the embassy, I don't think there is. Scorpiox and me have a private topic (PM) running in which we invent, save and discuss background material for the Norse, but as I've said, that's private . I believe it's more fun for you guys to discover things about their homes through RP rather than throw it all out in the open . Sandy, I forgot to say it the first time you posted that world map, but I just love how the size of the Northern continent is almost exactly as I had it in mind .

I've been following this thread since you started building and seeing the finished work is just ... jawdropping and awe-inspiring . There's just so much to look at and so many details to take in ! You have truly done an amazing work on this. A true masterpiece! I just love how real everything looks. The angles, the colors, the way you shaped the rocks, ... I can't really describe it, it's all just so amazing . Great job, really outstanding !

The viking finished his last beer and prepared to leave the Hall. He needed some fresh air. The whole business with Astrid, or whatever the new hero's name was, confused him. His greatsword, Godricsleif, rested besides him in its scabbard. Eric picked up his giant sword and slowly stepped towards the exit of the Hall. In the corner of his eye, he noticed the Boomingham, the bald Raider, the elf woman and some ranger were still talking. Eric didn't get it. How could one possibly talk to people for such a long time? He softly shook his hand and the word "strange" came to mind. As he continued walking towards the great oaken doors, though, memories of his time in the North invaded his head. Memories of long conversations, sometimes deep and serious, often funny. In his mind he saw himself talking to Astrid, to Godric, to Norra. He used to talk to a myriad of people, his sarcastic sense of humour often bringing a smile to their faces. Sarcasm that over time had turned to bitter sardonism. The laughs turned to silence and solitude. It then dawned to him that Boomingham and his friends weren't the strange ones. He was.

After Eric had signed up for a new quest, he remained near the board. First he sat on the ground next to it, drinking a bottle of mead. His long legs were quite the nuisance for other heroes looking to sign up. The minute his bottle of mead ran dry, though, the Nord got back up and steered his long limbs towards the bar. Heroica Hall seemed to spin around the intoxicated Raider. Luckily for Eric, he had plenty of seafaring skill to navigate his body safely across the Hall. He landed his hand on the wooden bar, just in time to prevent him falling face down it with his full weight. He got on one of the chairs and gestured Scheherazade for another bottle of mead. He was already quite drunk, but stopping once you're on a roll is for the weak. As the tall Nord waited for his drink, he steered his gaze across the Hall. His vision seemed cloudy, but he was still very aware of his surroundings. Suddenly, a shrieking noise pierced his mind. An agonizing pain ran through his head. Eric gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to make it go away. He tried to cover his ears, but the noise was already gone before he actually managed to bring his hands to his head. Apparently, one of the new heroes couldn't keep herself in check and lost it. Eric didn't quite understand what she had yelled, but he sure heard the damn noise. The Nord grunted. They didn't make the heroes like they used to. He rubbed his eyes and continued his check-up of the Hall. That mead sure took a long while to reach him. Somewhere in a corner he noticed another new hero. Female, pale skin and fiery hair. He was dumbfounded. Was this... Astrid? No, it couldn't be her. She was still there, way up North. Hundreds of miles away. But the way she moved, the way she toyed with her knife, the cocky smile, all reminded him of her. He rubbed his eyes and squinted, desperately trying to validate his assumptions. "Why did I have to drink this much?", he muttered. "You sure you still want this, northman?" the Orcish bartender asked. Eric simply grunted a rude affirmative-sounding noise and grabbed the drink. With the bottle of mead in his hand and a dumb smile on his face, Eric murmured again, but Scheherazade couldn't understand. No one could. "Astrid, my Astrid. Min drake i norr"

Looks like I'm guilty of using clichés, as well. What's worse, is that Eric is both exiled AND has a tragic past. Boo me!

It took the pale viking some moments before replying. He was indeed speaking from experience, but he'd never admit that to these people. His problems and goals were his own. He'd deal with it. By himself, alone, just like he's been all this time now. Eric dryly said: "The Norse sagas are littered with examples of heroes caught in the schemes of the Gods. All Vikings know the sagas and songs of our heroes." Eric raised his beaker, as well, even though he hardly knew any of the people at the table. “Skál” The bald man said it right. Eric gently nodded in agreement and grimaced. “Speaking of freedom, there is something I have to do”. Slowly, the Nord Raider got up, wary of any side-effects of having too much drink. Luckily for him, his tall stature and bulky mass saved him once more of any heavy effects alcohol might have. He hardly felt drunk at all. While the heroes had been talking about the gods and whatnot, Eric heard someone mentioning a new Bonaparte quest was put it. With sure strides, he walked to the Questboard and read the different posters, until he found the right one. He chuckled. “Looks like old Reno might need my help if he wants to continue his scheme of ending the Bonaparte rule of the Crystalline Sea.” With that thought in mind, he signed up for quest #58: Brothers in Arms.

Lots of heroes were seeping in the Hall once more. Apparantly, several quests had come to an end and its heroes were coming back to Eubric in droves. All eager for beverages and their pockets laden with coin. Eric minded his own business. He was too focussed on drinking to really care about any of the newcomers walking in. He hadn't even noticed Lawrence the Paladin, a figure that's in fact quite hard to miss. It wasn't until the big man patted Eric on his shoulder, that the Nord actually looked up and noticed him and several other familiar people. Eric nodded and forced a gentle smile, indicating that all was well. Lawrence Boomingham looked as happy, or seemingly jolly, as ever. He had retained his curvaceous figure and he didn't quite look tired or down, so Eric figured asking the "how are you"-question seemed redundant, when obviously, Lawrence was done fine. The Nord Raider would've liked to talk to Boomingham, who seemed like a genuinely nice fellow. However, the presence of Guts put a hold on that course of action. Eric had only met Guts once (I think), but he had left an impression. Just your regular know-it-all type of guy, who thinks he's above everything and everyone. Things turned somewhat more interesting one the subject of gods and deities was touched upon. Eric smirked and took a sip of his drink. "The gods will never come down and do menial work. That's like asking a king to give a shit about some trivial problem of one of his serfs. It won't happen. The gods are cruel and fickle beings. When you’re strong and powerful, when you are truly able to rise above your Human self, only then will the gods start noticing you and pay attention. But as I’ve said, they are fickle. Fail them and they’ll drop you like a common nobody.”

Aaargh, I want to respond to the Boomingham/Guts conversation, but I can't right now . Sorry for Eric not replying right now, Zepher, but I'll write up an answer/post as soon as I'm able to .

This one will be decided pretty unanimously, I guess . Docken is the archetype of optimized characters. Great idea, by the way! I'll try and send my votes in, ASAP.

Sham Poo is about to meet Daggerfall again. I wonder how this will turn out, since their last meeting wasn't quite fruitful (quest #15). Let's hope Sham Poo doesn't spill the beans about Jolly Roger's fate .

He's probably going to stick around for a while. There's free beer and no quests, where else could he go? After all, he had his time "alone" after leaving #42. Now that you mention Haldor having questions for Eric, have they actually met before in detail? I vaguely recall some short conversation, but I can't remember if Eric even got to know Haldor's name (and vice versa). I should keep more track of such things.

Eric didn't really feel like engaging in further conversation with the automaton and continued drinking his beer. He couldn't help himself hearing bits of the conversation the automaton was having with another hero, though. The other hero was Tothwick, one of the many apemen roaming Eubric city, he reminded Eric of Tothwick, but it wasn't him. Turns out the apeman found some company, seeing as he was trailed by another specimen of his kind. The Nord was just drinking his beer as the automaton finished his sentence. Eric nearly choked on his ale and coughed, surprised by the words of the wooden thing. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rolled his eyes. He softly shook his head and gave Jeaux a condescending look. Did the wooden automaton really believe that? Did he actually think he was put on Olegard by a loving father and mother, like a real Human being? He had to be kidding. What nerve to view himself as an equal of true living Beings. Eric's blood was boiling, but kept he his cool. It wasn't worth the hassle to get into a discussion over this. Inside, the viking Raider just knew he was right and didn't need the opinion of others on the subject to verify that. His opinion was the only right one on the matter. Annoyed over the spilled beer, Eric ordered a fresh pint. As he started drinking, his mind wandered off, perhaps deliberately so he didn't have to listen to any of the things the monkey-men and the walking tree were saying. It didn't really work as he was soon pulled to the ongoing conversation once more. Wren. Eric remembered the witch, well, even though it was about a year since they had met. Eric had been one of the heroes fighting in the Arena. Tothwick, the apeman, was his opponent. Eric eyed the apeman standing nearby and smirked. The fight had been good and the Nord had been able to claim victory. Eric turned his gaze back to his glass of beer and drank what was left. Raising his hand and signalling the Orc, he ordered another one.

Wow, I kind of feel bad for joeshmoe554 . Out of all possible heroes in Heroica, the first one Jeaux is having a conversation with, is a stuck-up, narcist (kind-of), Norse warrior who absolutely despises automatons . Talk about bad luck. There goes your chance of making your first buddy .