Erich had been wandering for some time now, the lights of Barton having been left in the distance. The area he traveled through now was slowly growing more wild. Denser trees, more undebrush, the like. Each mile gave way to less and less people, as well. Soon enough, it was pretty much just him walking alone.
Whatever sense picked up on it first, Erich's attention was diverted off to his right, down a particular path. He could smell....people, food, plenty of other smells. Hell, he could even see the residual light coming from over the tree line. The man's curiosity was peaked, then. Who would set up any sort of building out here, so far away from everything else.
Thus, the male made his way down the small path. It wasn't big enough, wasn't well kept enough, to allow most vehicles. Didn't matter though, Erich was on foot. Most might not enjoy the little travel he was undertaking, but to Erich...it was lovely. The jungle like atmosphere reminded me strongly of home. Thus, he took his time. The heat, the dense vegetation, the sounds. Everything. It was beautiful.
The walk took nearly half an hour, but Erich had long since lost track of time. That is, until he stumbled upon the establishment. It looked like...a surfer's hangout. On a black sand beach, no else. Seemed cool enough. Erich headed for the building. There wasn't even really a door, he noticed.
Stepping up into the shanty, the man would look around. Nose sniffed at the air, testing it to figure out a bit out people, or sense out ones his eyes couldn't find. For those already there, they would be greeted by a behemoth. We're talking breaking seven and a half feet tall, built like a tank. Broad shoulders, muscular body. Though, it wasn't overly built. He was forced to retain a certain liberness for certain pasttimes.
The male's head was crowned with snow white hair, buzzed around the sides and leaving the top long. At the moment, it was tied together in the back. Darkly tanned flesh spoke of a lifetime outdoors, calloused skin of hard work. Baby blue eyes swept the room, regarding each person in turn. Those that met his gaze would note a certain ferocity that betrayed his otherwise bemused and calm face.
The brute was dressed rather simply. A tight fitting black A-shirt, or as some knew them...wife beater. Barely visible would be a scar on his upper right chest. Burned there....it looked like a symbol, or initials. A choker was worn tightly around his neck. Pants were fairly simple. Tan cargo pants, the baggy kind with lots of unneeded pockets, held up by a longer than needed black leather belt. Finishing it off were a pair of old military boots, the hems of his pants covering up most of them.
For those interested in weaponry, Erich carried two potential hazards. The obvious one would be the massive blade he carred slung onto one broad shoulder. Getting a good look at it, any spectator would notice it was nearly as long as he was tall, with the handle being an extra couple feet. It was wide too, probably around two feet. Both edges were sharpened.
The second would be tucked away, less noticible. Honestly, Erich didn't even really consider it a weapon. A blacksmith's hammer tucked into his belt. The curious thing was molded from one single peice of metal. Silvery surface was etched in with runes of probably unknown origin.
And thus, Erich came to be standing in the 'main bar area', glancing around mildly curious.
((One time repeat post. Used it here once...and nothing came of it.))
