Erik "The Mountain" Ironfist's page

"Lovely," Erik replies. "So that's it? Find him, stop his evil plot, that whole shtick?"

Rest up, dude. We'll be here when you feel better.

Erik continues through the passageway, an uncomfortable look on his face as he cautiously makes his way forward.

Erik checks the tunnel before cautiously entering, his eyes darting to and fro as he tries to make sure that the passway is safe. "Thanks," he says to whoever is waiting at the other end, but some nervousness manages to sneak into his voice.

Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (13) + 11 = 24

Erik sighs, not particularly interested in literally busting down the fellow's door to meet him. Beyond being rude, it's generally a good way to get people very, very displeased with you, something the half-giant had learned the hard way when he first began integrating into the societies outside of his tribe. "Would much rather be welcomed in than the alternative," he says, hoping that the people inside can hear through the door.

Erik makes a displeased face, but sticks to the script. He moves to look inside, eyes peeled for anything of note. "Usually people don't trap their homes," the half-giant grumbles under his breath.

Erik nods, clomping along as his strange armor makes surprisingly little noise for its bulk. "Let's hope he's more welcoming than your average necromancer."

Erik concurs with the others. "Can't say I approve of that kind of dabbling," the half-giant says in a displeased tone, "but if it's our only lead, then it's all we got right now."

The crease in Erik's brow relaxes, and he seems to shrink a little as the tension leaves him. ::"That's just fine then,":: he replies to the pseudodragon. ::"Glad to have the two of you."::

"Wow, just got there in the end then, thought just landed 'let's get him, lets team up' why what A great idea. Just like the one I had when we came in the door and I ask every one there name and if they would like to team up and find who did this. But my all means take the long way there big man."

Erik turns a unimpressed look on the tiny creature. "You're not a people person, huh?" he states, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Like my father used to say," he begins, distaste clear in the half-giant's voice at the memory, "if ya ain't got nothin' nice t' say, shut yer hole."

Erik rubs at his beard some more. "I don't know about all that. But if he's one of my kind, then it's my duty to make sure this is the last time he does anything like this," he declares, standing tall and planting his feet. "You folk seem like a decent lot. Will you help?" The half-giant turns to each of the gathered heroes in turn, determination in his green eyes.

's'alright, man. We all make mistakes.

Alright, you need to calm down, Cornelius. It's Thanksgiving Week, and that means travel, being with family, shopping, schoolwork, lots of things that are very important in meatspace.

It is intensely annoying that all you have done is complain, while Cricket has clearly been working on stuff that is important in regards to his own life. The posting rate will pick up once the holiday and school are finished, but if you can't be patient, then I don't know what to tell you.

Erik nods. "I've heard my fair share of screams, too, and if it doesn't sound like her attempts, then I don't know what to tell you," he says, running his fingers through his beard.

If it weren't the week of Thanksgiving, I'd agree with you. But this time of year is super crazy for most people, so I'm willing to cut everybody some slack.

Erik nods, seconding Galatea's request. "We'd be glad to help out in any way that we can."

I don't particularly mind - Erik's going to wear his emotions on his sleeve, for the most part.

Sitting at a bar, a huge man in expensive-looking clothing is chatting with some locals, a calm smile on his face. Coaxing a glass of alcohol that looks far too small for the man, he engages in small talk with the men and women around him.

"An' did ya hear about th' Gilded Crossroads?" one of the locals asks, slurring slightly. "Heard they found a bunch'a people killed an' nobody knows what hap-" he continues, but is interrupted by the sound of the large man's glass clinking hard against the bar counter. His smile is a lot more forced as he eyes the drunken man.

"Which way?" he asks, his voice booming slightly, even though he was talking in a normal tone. The drunken man stutters to reply, giving him simple directions. "Good. Enjoy your drinks, folks," the giant says, setting a few coins on the bar, before standing to his impressive full height and striding out of the bar. "All play and no work makes Erik a dull man," he mumbles to himself as he walks out the door.

The huge man is obviously a half-giant, walking with a long gait, but his well-kept short black hair and beard, along with his shining emerald eyes make him much nicer to look at than most of his kind. Stepping into an alley, the man rests a hand on his chest, a soft red light seeming to illuminate the garment from the inside. Suddenly, his fancy-looking clothing begins to morph and shift, turning from cloth into a kind of metal skeleton. It bulges and contracts, before clanking shut around the half-giant, looking like some kind of steel armor. "Time for the Mountain to get to work, then," Erik Ironfist says, before he jumps up and flies off, leaving the alley empty, once again.

===

Minutes later, he arrives in front of the inn, landing heavily on the street outside. The armor around his face and head retracts into the rest of the armor, melding seamlessly without a sound. "What happened here?" he asks the guards posted outside.

I have literally no idea why my character would be anywhere near this inn. I'd gladly make a first post if I had some more detail.

Were we summoned? By whom? How much do we know about the situation?

Dot.

Dot.

Neat. Glad to be on board. :)