Hyperdron

Viktor was born in 1787 FA to Norlandic parents as the eldest son in a family of 4 siblings. His parents had fought in the Inferi War initially, but after his mother sustained a crippling injury during the Siege of Vanmark in 1785, they both retired to Norsgrad. As a family of hunter-gatherers, Viktor's father made their living off of their expeditions into the wilderness. Viktor and his 2 brothers were integrated very early into this system, Viktor himself joining these expeditions from as young as 4 years old. At first he learnt to forage, and as he got older, his father taught him the ways of hunting. Viktor found a great satisfaction in the hunt, and found himself forsaking traps in favour of chasing down his prey personally. This was also when Viktor began to truly engage in the Red Faith, sending many a prayer to Aelfwynn av Vuttelund 'The Fleet', the Paragon of Hunting. Thanks to her teachings, he holds nature in great respect, and only takes what his family needs to survive.

After the Inferi War drove them to Nyrheim(/Almaris), his family settled with the rest of the Norlandic peoples in the now capital city, Varhelm. With this came the need to learn a new wilderness, and Viktor threw himself into this task, doubling his previous efforts. His sister was born soon after they had settled, and she took over the task of looking after their mother while the men went on longer and longer expeditions, sometimes spending weeks amongst the freezing snowlands. Over the next several years, Viktor found himself improving in leaps and bounds, even surpassing his father's ability. His constant exposure to the cold weather from such an early age had adapted him to the environment to an almost unnatural degree, allowing him to maintain his body heat with an efficiency great enough to conserve an incredible amount of energy for the moments it most counted. He often found himself overheating in more temperate areas, and began to develop a habit of hunting shirtless - much to the vexation of his father, who constantly had to remind him to 'sit by the fire' else he would 'fall into a cold early grave'. His brothers would joke that Viktor's fervent belief in the Red Faith was 'keeping his own fire burning in his heart', but Viktor would take this as a compliment, and only grow more confident.

Sometime when Viktor entered his teens, he began to drink with his father. He cared not for the weak ales and the pitiful mead, but his father's homemade alcohol was another story entirely. It lit a great warmth in his belly, as if his brothers' earlier jokes had foretold this discovery. And it was a comfortable warmth, this time - nothing as irritating as the thousands of pricks he would feel as he sat by the campfire, his skin turning red. When he asked his father what the drink was, he replied that it was 'like whisky, but stronger, for real men'. When he asked if he could learn to make it, his father happily agreed. Thus began Viktor's hobby as a maker of high-alcohol spirits. 

As time continues to pass, Viktor hones his skills in hunting and distillation, trying and testing wilder and stranger ingredients (one of his goals being to get his hands on some ashwood syrup and finally make it taste good). His dedication to the Red Faith grows more and more by the day, now extending offerings of spiced wine to Snow 'The Flamesinger', and delivering his sister's homecooked meals to Athelflaed av Hurth 'The Weaver' when she's too busy. He has also begun to socialise properly in the capital, first going with his father, and then through his own personal excursions to the Ashwood Tavern, where he finds joy in conversing with the somewhat inebriated patrons.

If you were to look deep into Viktor's eyes, perhaps you might notice a flicker of vibrant red dart across his ice blue eyes, like a spark off a piece of flint; or maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you. Perhaps his body seems warmer to the touch than most; but humans have never been a good judge of temperature, so who's to say he is? For Viktor, one thing is for sure: under his imposing yet personable visage, he fans a roaring inner flame, a concentrated soul of his determination. A determination to keep his family alive and happy, a determination to stand against the Long Dark that has threatened the people of this world for so long... and a determination to make the best damn alcohol the continent has ever tasted.