Name: Viktor Eriksen
Age:19
Race: Human, Northener
Physical Description: Very tall, slender young man, with sharp features everywhere. Thin and not very physically skilled, unlike most of his Northern peers, with long legs to carry his body. Dark, silky hair, going down to his chin, skin pale as the snow, and icy gray eyes. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut through metal, and a bit of a shark-like smile that makes people nervous just at it’s sight. A purposeful off-putting presence.
Title/Rank: No title, bastard of a Northern High Lord
Personality:
With a flair for dramatics and an incessant need to go out of his way to antagonize his peers, Viktor was never very well-liked for his personality. He was a bastard, in the literal sense, but many would describe him as that in every sense. The way he saw it, he had two choices growing up: he could bow his head down in respect when the Lady and the family berated him, waiting for the acceptance that would never come, or he could take advantage of the fact that it was far too late to get rid of him. Quick-witted and with a borderline sadistic enjoyment of watching people get uncomfortable, upset, or downright furious. Going out of his way to ruin somebody’s day quickly became his favorite activity.
With an unwavering sense of self-preservation, Viktor carefully built the walls surrounding him. He could be funny and entertaining, and even superficially charming, when the situation required it, or he could be downright cruel. He’s a bit lazy, having grown with some comfort, but gets easily obsessed and determined when a goal is set on his mind. Naturally mistrustful of all people, he has never allowed a single soul to get too close. Extremely dedicated to the few things he loves and has passion for, like politics, archery, and the history of the kingdoms.
Character History:
Viktor was considered lucky for the fact that he wasn’t left out to die in the cold of the North, as bastards often do. His father was a man of means and influence, a High Lord, part of the council that had the king’s ear. His mother was nobody, and therefore neither was he. This alone was enough reason to let Viktor out to die, and yet, that wasn’t the case. His father took him home, to his lavish castle in the capital, announcing to his wife and his 3 legitimate children that there was another member to this family. Not killing him was the very last kindness Lord Eriksen ever showed Viktor. After that, all his father gave him were cold looks and cruel, distant words. Viktor could count on one hand how many times he saw him a year.
Viktor grew up in the Eriksen estate alongside his father’s family, but all of them made sure he always knew he was not family. Lady Niekene hated him most. He had barely learned how to properly walk and talk, and she still found every reason she could to punish him, humiliate him, to thoroughly remind him he was an outsider and a mistake. She shared this notion with her children, who disliked Viktor’s existence just as much- Lucio, Marius and Ola treated him like a pest, like a limp, sickly dog who sneaked in their home during a snowstorm. He wasn’t allowed to sleep in the same chambers as the members of the Eriksen family, no, Lady Niekene would never approve of it: Viktor slept in the smallest room as the castle, a floor above the underground lodgings of the staff. Viktor was different from them, he knew soon enough, in every possible manner- Lucio and Marius were strong and courageous, they had a love for fighting and brawling, were loud and impulsive and took any chance they had to start a fight and leave people bleeding. Viktor was scrawny, despite towering over both of them in height, he knew he would never beat anybody in a physical confrontational. He was a negation with a sword, something his father quickly recognized and berated him for. But this undeniable inability to fit in, that in his early, formative years, he saw as a curse from the Gods for his unholy birth, would become his first act of rebellion. No, he was not strong, or gifted in the arts of battle, but he was smart, very smart.
At the age of 9, his tutor would approach his father with the information that Viktor possessed an ‘extraordinary mind’- not only he had a remarkable memory, being able to remember any passage from any book after just one glance at it, he had an undeniable talent for strategy, logic. That was the very first time his father, or anyone for that matter, looked at him like he had any value. Lord Eriksen invested in that, this child he risked his reputation for simply had to be useful for something- he hired the finest tutors of the North to sharpen and curate the boy’s mind, directing it especially to the noble art of war. He also made a particularly pleasant discovery: while Viktor was more likely to decapitate himself with a sword than put up a good fight, he was fairly skilled with a bow and arrow. Viktor, who once was so jealous of Marius for how applauded he was for playing with wooden swords, realized, in a glorious moment of clarity, why this was: they were idiots. The three of them, all his legitimate heirs, though they looked noble and princely enough, what they had in appearances and charm, they lacked in intelligence. And Viktor finally realized he had the upper hand.
It was a turning point for him, who no longer had to cower to the rest of the family. It was far too late for anybody to get rid of him, and he used it to his advantage. He had observed everyone in the castle all his life, he knew what made them tick, what made them angry, and he took every chance he had to do so, antagonizing his half-siblings became his joy in life. Convincing Ola that the visiting Lord from the South was in love with her ad wanted to wed her, or constantly sabotaging Marius’ armor. He once made Marius genuinely believe he was being haunted by an ancient elven princess, and the only way to make it stop was to lock himself in a cabinet, naked, covered head to toe in cheap wine for a week. That was one of the happiest weeks of Viktor’s life, especially because he completely got away with it. It made all of them despise him even more, but what could they do? Viktor knew acceptance would never come, he might as well enjoy himself. At 15, he became a sort of advisor for his father. Not officially, he was a boy, a bastard at that, but he earned his father’s ear with his silver tongue and his brilliant mind. His father still had no love for him, he knew that much, but Viktor had moved on from wanting to be loved to wanting something much bigger: wanting to be invaluable, irreplaceable- and he was on his way there.
Age:19
Race: Human, Northener
Physical Description: Very tall, slender young man, with sharp features everywhere. Thin and not very physically skilled, unlike most of his Northern peers, with long legs to carry his body. Dark, silky hair, going down to his chin, skin pale as the snow, and icy gray eyes. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut through metal, and a bit of a shark-like smile that makes people nervous just at it’s sight. A purposeful off-putting presence.
Title/Rank: No title, bastard of a Northern High Lord
Personality:
With a flair for dramatics and an incessant need to go out of his way to antagonize his peers, Viktor was never very well-liked for his personality. He was a bastard, in the literal sense, but many would describe him as that in every sense. The way he saw it, he had two choices growing up: he could bow his head down in respect when the Lady and the family berated him, waiting for the acceptance that would never come, or he could take advantage of the fact that it was far too late to get rid of him. Quick-witted and with a borderline sadistic enjoyment of watching people get uncomfortable, upset, or downright furious. Going out of his way to ruin somebody’s day quickly became his favorite activity.
With an unwavering sense of self-preservation, Viktor carefully built the walls surrounding him. He could be funny and entertaining, and even superficially charming, when the situation required it, or he could be downright cruel. He’s a bit lazy, having grown with some comfort, but gets easily obsessed and determined when a goal is set on his mind. Naturally mistrustful of all people, he has never allowed a single soul to get too close. Extremely dedicated to the few things he loves and has passion for, like politics, archery, and the history of the kingdoms.
Character History:
Viktor was considered lucky for the fact that he wasn’t left out to die in the cold of the North, as bastards often do. His father was a man of means and influence, a High Lord, part of the council that had the king’s ear. His mother was nobody, and therefore neither was he. This alone was enough reason to let Viktor out to die, and yet, that wasn’t the case. His father took him home, to his lavish castle in the capital, announcing to his wife and his 3 legitimate children that there was another member to this family. Not killing him was the very last kindness Lord Eriksen ever showed Viktor. After that, all his father gave him were cold looks and cruel, distant words. Viktor could count on one hand how many times he saw him a year.
Viktor grew up in the Eriksen estate alongside his father’s family, but all of them made sure he always knew he was not family. Lady Niekene hated him most. He had barely learned how to properly walk and talk, and she still found every reason she could to punish him, humiliate him, to thoroughly remind him he was an outsider and a mistake. She shared this notion with her children, who disliked Viktor’s existence just as much- Lucio, Marius and Ola treated him like a pest, like a limp, sickly dog who sneaked in their home during a snowstorm. He wasn’t allowed to sleep in the same chambers as the members of the Eriksen family, no, Lady Niekene would never approve of it: Viktor slept in the smallest room as the castle, a floor above the underground lodgings of the staff. Viktor was different from them, he knew soon enough, in every possible manner- Lucio and Marius were strong and courageous, they had a love for fighting and brawling, were loud and impulsive and took any chance they had to start a fight and leave people bleeding. Viktor was scrawny, despite towering over both of them in height, he knew he would never beat anybody in a physical confrontational. He was a negation with a sword, something his father quickly recognized and berated him for. But this undeniable inability to fit in, that in his early, formative years, he saw as a curse from the Gods for his unholy birth, would become his first act of rebellion. No, he was not strong, or gifted in the arts of battle, but he was smart, very smart.
At the age of 9, his tutor would approach his father with the information that Viktor possessed an ‘extraordinary mind’- not only he had a remarkable memory, being able to remember any passage from any book after just one glance at it, he had an undeniable talent for strategy, logic. That was the very first time his father, or anyone for that matter, looked at him like he had any value. Lord Eriksen invested in that, this child he risked his reputation for simply had to be useful for something- he hired the finest tutors of the North to sharpen and curate the boy’s mind, directing it especially to the noble art of war. He also made a particularly pleasant discovery: while Viktor was more likely to decapitate himself with a sword than put up a good fight, he was fairly skilled with a bow and arrow. Viktor, who once was so jealous of Marius for how applauded he was for playing with wooden swords, realized, in a glorious moment of clarity, why this was: they were idiots. The three of them, all his legitimate heirs, though they looked noble and princely enough, what they had in appearances and charm, they lacked in intelligence. And Viktor finally realized he had the upper hand.
It was a turning point for him, who no longer had to cower to the rest of the family. It was far too late for anybody to get rid of him, and he used it to his advantage. He had observed everyone in the castle all his life, he knew what made them tick, what made them angry, and he took every chance he had to do so, antagonizing his half-siblings became his joy in life. Convincing Ola that the visiting Lord from the South was in love with her ad wanted to wed her, or constantly sabotaging Marius’ armor. He once made Marius genuinely believe he was being haunted by an ancient elven princess, and the only way to make it stop was to lock himself in a cabinet, naked, covered head to toe in cheap wine for a week. That was one of the happiest weeks of Viktor’s life, especially because he completely got away with it. It made all of them despise him even more, but what could they do? Viktor knew acceptance would never come, he might as well enjoy himself. At 15, he became a sort of advisor for his father. Not officially, he was a boy, a bastard at that, but he earned his father’s ear with his silver tongue and his brilliant mind. His father still had no love for him, he knew that much, but Viktor had moved on from wanting to be loved to wanting something much bigger: wanting to be invaluable, irreplaceable- and he was on his way there.
