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Viktor grew up in a small village a days walk from Sanctum and if everything had gone to plan he likely would have died there surrounded by his family. Clever hands gave rise to being an apprentice for the village smith and he was in line to take over the Forge when it became time. He mostly made tools for the village farmers and shoes for horses but there was the occasional travelling knight or mercenaries who needed armor or weapons work. It was those jobs that captured his attention. In the way of things he found a sweetheart, and the two decided they were married. Children were had and all was well. The Gods had seemingly blessed the family but as with many things, it was not to last. Viktor never learned if they were bandits, raiders, servants of Tolamar Brand, or what. All he knew was there was screaming, pain, fire, and when he awoke in a tent of the Mercies everyone was dead except for him. The patrol of knights militant had ended the attackers but there was nothing left but grief. Grief which turned to Devotion to the Gods. When he was healed he swore himself to the Pantheon as a disciple of the Sentinel, seeking Justice for those who could not seek it themselves, and began training to join the Templar though he was old enough to be most of the other recruits father. Long years of training and he has come to Arx to Serve. At least now he gets to work on armor and weapons more than farm tools.

While not overly tall he is not short either, reaching the upper end of average for most in this day and age. His blond hair has turned sandy and even brown in places but more noticable is the streaks of white beginning to form making his hair a palette of warm colors in certain lighting. His face is striking for it's hard planes, high cheekbones, angular jaw but what was once marble has been softened by age with lines across his brow, at the corners of his mouth, and deeper at the outside point of his light brown eyes. Age has deepened each line without causing them to sag though, making each line defined and stand out sharper. Physically he is lean over massive, long of limb, but there is a lifetime of battles and forge work on his skin.

Grim determination is the core of the man. Where once there was a man who loved life and all parts of it, content with what the Gods had graced him with there is now a man that has given himself over wholly to the Gods. There are still bits and pieces of the old man in there, a man with a ready smile, who loved to laugh, and who didn't take himself to seriously but they are harder to find now, only showing up amongst those he is close to. The loss of his entire life has created a great emptyness within him that he has filled with Faith and the word of the Gods but there is a part of him that is still empty, that the Gods alone cannot fill. He has learned to live with it, but it bothers him that Faith is not entirely, wholly, enough. Maybe one day he will find what fills that empty space again. Perhaps.