[hr][hr][h1][b][i][color=gray][center]Gerric Roar Halfden[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1][center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/23/11/87/23118790e48211bc067dd5cf80a09c86.jpg[/img]
[color=Gray]Location:[/color] Niflheim 
[color=Gray]Skills:[/color]Blades, Water manipulation[/center]
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Gerric didn’t hear anything over the splashing of water, his engagement with the drugar and his own growling. The slash across his chest caused him to rethink his choice of not wearing armour.
He drew his largest dagger and used it to defend against any oncoming blades while constantly controlling the flow of the icy water around him. He pushes or pulls enemies away, slamming others with a jet of water or erupts a wall to block projectiles.

Jörmungandr in the distance was as awe inspiring as it was terrifying, even if it’s presence came with a flooding of questions. Gerric didn’t allow those thoughts into his mind. His focus was on those around him. The spay of water around him increased as their surroundings grew more and more choppy. Gerric backed away, pushing the undead into a cluster as he prepared his escape. The world serpents presence didn’t change his plan, what good would an extra 50ft on land do to hinder the will of a creature large enough to wrap the world.