Blacksmith in the village of Stormhaven. Friendly, and honest with absolutely no problems with telling you exactly what he thinks.
Erroll, like most in Stormhaven, was born with blessings of Olladra and Dol Dorn: Strong, tall and with pleasing features. Working hammer to anvil, each day, has left its mark in calloused hands. Below his left eye is the slash of a burnt scar, the result of a flying chip of iron. It does little to harm his looks. He keeps his hair shaved, and wears utilitarian clothing. Erroll seems immune to the heat of working a forge in a tropical climate.
An avowed land-lover, he has never set foot on a boat nor has he ever been swimming. Nor will he.
Long ago Erroll swore that he would speak no lies, and now speaks only truth. He often forgets to be diplomatic, and simply says whatever he is thinking. He tries to be fair, but chooses silence when tempers flare.
He and Mobley share one building which houses them, the general store and the smithy.
Erroll has one son.