Eric Blackthorn, Blacky to his friends, is a very large man. He stands close to six feet tall and his powerful frame is enough to take up a small corner of a taproom. Always quick with a joke or a hearty laugh, Blacky is a very outgoing, jovial fellow. His cheerful face is covered with a full black beard and black wavy hair that most women would kill to have, spills to just below his neck. Only the lines starting around his eyes and a hint of grey at his temples betray that he is a bit old to be adventuring. If one watches him closely, Eric always seems to be alert and watchful and there is a sadness behind his eyes that no amount of good cheer seems to be able to erase.

Blacky is rather quiet and unassuming, even though he is very large and muscular.  He doesn't carry himself like a soldier or trained warrior, but he does get into the swing of things during battle.  He tries to keep himself clean and well groomed if at all possible and he can muster up a good bit of charm when he is so inclined. Blacky is in the habit of sleeping lightly and looking over his shoulder for trouble. He does this less now than when he first joined the group, but it is still there.  He always enjoys a good song and tankard of ale.

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