Viktor Radomir

Muscular body toned by harsh winters.

Many scars and bruises from previous battles.

Rounded nose, thick beard, fuzzy eyebrows.

Long brown hair and thick beard, short, missing arm.

Missing right arm. Mutated rash on back.

Chainmail shirt, tattered fur cloak, leathers, and light chains hanging from body.

At 16 years old Viktor was a bar brawler and quick with his fists, which attracted the attention of a passerby, Marco Aurelio. Talking with the boy while patching him up, he learned of his tenuous home situation, which took the work of his mother and all his siblings to barely keep afloat. Feeling pity for the boy, he offered him a deal. He would send good coin to his mother regularly, but Viktor would have to join his army and learn to fight.   He agreed, and set off from his home with a bittersweet goodbye to Praag. For the next few years, he had the art of war drilled into him and his body molded into a warrior’s, given personal lessons and guidance from Marco. Once allowed onto the battlefield, he quickly proved himself as a cut above the usual cloth, and gained higher station. At the age of 23, he was ordering around mercenaries who were older than himself, under direct order of the commander.   As time went on, however, it seemed that things were changing. Their clients changed from nobles and lords to warlords and cultists covered in blood. The army had been moving North, fighting side by side with berserkers, Chaos worshipers, and mutants who were more monster than man. They ravaged the small villages and attacked fortresses at the northmost peak of Kislev. These jobs brought great wealth to the army, as well as great power.   Viktor tried to justify these actions, he and his family needed the coin, after all. He had been with the army for so long that he believed they couldn’t have been too far gone, and Marco reassured him that soon they would travel back south. But Marco had changed, there was a dark look in his eyes, and he too had begun mutating. Just from proximity to the warpstone that the army had been collecting, Viktor himself had gained an unsightly, fur-covered arm.   The army suddenly moved South with an enormous force of Chaos worshipers. Horrific monuments to dark gods were constructed out of the flesh of innocent Kislevitians. Men, women, and children alike were put to the sword. Viktor couldn’t bear to see it any longer. He rode his horse, Belka, away from the fight without looking back.   He couldn’t go back to Praag. Not with the terrible shame he felt for not only participating in the slaughter of his own people, but being unable to do anything to stop it. He paid a messenger in a town he passed by to inform his mother of the situation, and telling her to flee. Feeling out of place in Kislev, he rode to the Empire, as far south as he felt comfortable.

MALE.

WOMEN.

No formal education. Was taught the art of war and how to fight. Vaguely recalls his father showing him carpentry techniques. Cannot read or write.

Hired as a mercenary at a young age, Viktor was molded into a warrior to help provide for his family. He spent many years fighting and earned both gold and stories to tell. Unfortunately, all of that fell through when the mercenary army he was part of succumbed to its lust for power and embraced Chaos.

Has been through a countless number of battles in the frozen North. I will add them as they become relevant. (I haven't thought of them hehe.)

Falling from the high station he held in a mercenary army to being an armless daemon.

His father was killed by a Chaos Spawn. Betrayed by his father figure and participated in the slaughter of his own people. His arm was cut off by a Skaven Clanrat. He is now akin to a Daemon in that his home is the Realm of Chaos, and could be warped there at any moment.

Action is better than no action. Often quotes things he's heard from mercenaries and warriors. Attempts to break complex situations down into simple ones.

In combat, the one who is slain was weak, might makes right. However, there is no need for innocents to die, especially women and children. Chaos worshippers, of course, should be slain at the earliest convenience.

Will not tolerate the slaying of innocents. Chaos worshipers should be killed if possible. Chaos worship is unacceptable.

Viktor wishes to reclaim his lost honor and eventually return home. He feels that to do this, he must inflict a terrible blow to the forces of Chaos. To do such a thing, he requires as much power and as many men as he can get his hands on.

LIKES:

Booze

Honorable Combat

Gold

Carpentry

Power

DISLIKES:

Chaos

Dishonor

Rudeness/Insults

Rats

(most) Mages

Despite what many may think on first glance, he tries to be as polite as he can be. When treated with respect and generosity he will return it in kind. Loyal to those he considers friends.

He gambles, he drinks, and he indulges. Prone to instigating violence when disrespected. Can take things too far when emotional.

Bathes maybe once a week.

FATHER Bogdan was stout and muscular, exactly what you might expect a follower of Ursun to look like. His days of battle long past, he was a pillar of Praag’s community and often repaired parts of the city using his knowledge of carpentry and stonework, sometimes for free. He sadly met his end at the hands of a dreaded Chaos Spawn while venturing too close to New Town, the abandoned and dark district of Praag.   MOTHER Mariya was beautiful, and beamed like the sun, even after her husband’s death, though with no small amount of grief. She worked around the city at many odd jobs, putting food on the table for her children. A devout worshiper of Dazh, she tried to instill as much manners and politeness into her sons and daughter as possible. Viktor hopes she is safe.   BROTHER Lev, the eldest brother, worked at the docks. He was honest to a fault, and would often break up whatever trouble the younger siblings were up to. Being the eldest, he knew their father better than any of the children, and Mariya says she can see a lot of him in Lev. He went off to join Kislev’s military a long time ago, and that was the last Viktor had seen of him.   BROTHERS Vitaly and Pavel were twins, and tied for second eldest, though both would swear that they were slightly older than the other. The two were practically inseparable, and were always scheming up a way to make easy coin. They ran scams, pick-pocketed, and stole. Viktor would join them on these schemes, much to his own detriment. Last he heard, the two ran up a lot of debt with the wrong people and fled to the Empire.   SISTER Anna was the youngest, born a few years after Viktor. She spent most of her time running around the Noble quarter of Praag. Too frail and kind for manual labor or crime, she worked as an assistant for a librarian. At home she would always have her nose in a book, telling the others about the land of Tilea or of the High Elves and their customs with a delighted look on her face. Most of what she taught Viktor didn’t stick, but he always appreciated the stories about great heroes she would read to them. Last he knew, she had run away from home very suddenly, leaving behind a note that Viktor himself couldn’t read, but had apparently said that she was going to travel the world.   COMMANDER Marco Aurelio is a Tilean, proud and strong. He started his mercenary group in Tilea and travelled far to gain as much power and influence as he could. He picked up young Viktor because he thought he may be a valuable asset one day. He fed Viktor, clothed Viktor, and taught Viktor what he knew. Once Viktor was finally ready for combat, and readily proved himself, Marco granted him higher and higher rank. Eventually, the boy grew into a man, and was stationed almost directly under Marco in the chain of command.   Viktor thought of him like a father. He went to great lengths to impress Marco, staring death in the face many times. Which worked, because he was quite fond of Viktor. Perhaps he knew of this in some subconscious sense, but it was never said out loud.   For Viktor, this just made Marco's descent into madness more painful. Once the army had started taking jobs from Chaos worshipers, things rapidly spiraled out of hand. They not only offered money, but warpstone, weaponry, armor, and more, all more powerful than Marco had ever seen. As his power grew, so too did the evils he committed. The last time Viktor had seen him was before the horrible siege on the towns surrounding Praag. He was standing in a tent, mapping out an attack strategy while fiddling with a piece of warpstone in his hand. The skin on his back sickeningly boiled and popped as Viktor left the tent.

Most closely follows the scriptures of Dazh, taught to him by his mother. Also worships Ursun, but not as devoutly.

Most nobles would be put off on principle, but a soldier would find him good company. Regularly rough houses with other muscleheads.

Often calls people "friend."

Secretly whittles wood carvings.

Greets people politely, and will insult them if they're rude in return. Occasionally will be witty, but most often just threatening.

The gold in his pocket.