Deriving from the desolated forests of northern Sweden, this mythical brute moved south to complete his fire engineer studies. Rumour whispers, however, that while doing what he does best - deliver state of the art QuakeWorld TDM - his fingers emit a faint, ardent light which has only been observed by the few designated observers to have ever entered the gloomy halls in which he resides.
Back in the earliest days of QW, Erik lingered in the the crowd of undefined - yet skilled - players. Rootless. This factor, among others, was the reason he put the career aside to focus on other things in life. He fell out of all knowledge. Forever gone, was what people believed. The years went by, 8 to be precise, until one moonless night - when Andromeda was especially bright - he finally chose to emerge from concealment. Dusty and rusty, he started to elbow his way through the endless ranks of the average players. Through tenacity, diplomacy, and a unique form of sharp combat he polished his skills to the very highest levels. The ever watchful eye of Suddendeath sensed this trembling in the force, and invited him to join the legion. It didn't take long until he accepted, and pulled on the white-yellow match outfit. Now he'd found his home. Thriving, laughing, delivering; and forever fighting!
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