Name Erik "Smooth Face" Torvaldson Viken
Age 31 (Born 7th of May 1866)
Gender Male
Appearance Occupations Farmer. Born and raised on a small town Minnesota farm, Erik knew from a young age how to plow the fields and tend the livestock. Did that for a long time. Until their farm was burned down.
Vigilante. When the bandit bastards burned down his family's farm, Erik sought help from the Law. When the Law couldn't help him, he turned to those outside the Law, they didn't care. That left only him, his horse "Knegg" and his rifle to sort out justice. So who knows on which side of the Law Erik is. Sometimes he doesn't know himself.
Assets Erik doesn't own a whole lot these days. All his possessions is carried on his back and on his trusted horse, "Knegg".
- Knegg, the horse he loves, his last family.
- Winchester modell 1873 lever-action rifle.
- 1873 Colt Single Action Army Revolve
- Knife
- Protestant Bible in printed Danish
- Two pouches of ammunition for his weapons
Personality Erik, the second-generation immigrant from the cold north, is quite the friendly fellow to most people. His father and mother were once strangers to America, and taught young Erik to always to friendly and kind to those around him. Erik is helpful to those he finds in need, be it a minor or greater problem that he can overcome. Sometimes it has gotten him into problems, but his manlier side shows itself. Brought forth by a hard-working childhood and the destruction of his home and family, Erik is not afraid to beat your ass if you deserve it.
History Erik "Smooth Face" Torvaldson Viken's story begins not in Montana, but far away. Across the mighty blue Atlantic Ocean in a country far north, where his family came from. His father grew up in a small mountain village in Norway's middle mountain range, working the land as best he could in the harsh condition of the middle 1800's. One day the mountain sides could no longer hold their heavy burdens of rock and dirt, and let it all slide down towards an unsuspecting village. Few died, but nothing was left to save in the ruins. Some tried in van to rebuild, others moved to the cities in search of good fortunes.
Erik's father immigrated to America. Without a penny in his pocket and only the clothes on his back, life was not easy for a newly arrived foreigner in a strange land, speaking little of the foriegn language. An oppertuniy opened itself to Erik's father in the form of the Civil War, where all able-bodied men were called to defend the Red, White and Blue. He joined up in a Scandinavian regiment, fought valiently throughout the war and learning both the language and the rifle. With the war won by the North, large swats of land were open for the soldiers and immigrants, including Erik's father.
Erik himself was born in early 1866, one year after the great war ended, in his family's new farmstead up in Minnesota. His father had met and married a young Spanish immigrant like himself, quite the unusal couple. Life was not easy on their farm, but it was well-earned. Erik never struggled for food or safety in his youth, only new that a good life required a good day's work. He grew up to learn both the plow and the rifle, like his own father had, as well as learning both his father's and mother's tounges. Life was hard, but good.
That was until the raids began. At first they were only the usual cattle-rustlers from up in the mountains, easily scared off by well-placed rifle fire from the family's duo of marksmen. Then they dared come closer, guns firing in both directions. Then they got close enough for their faces to be seen, and then...Erik remembers that night as clear as a cloud free day, everything. The shooting, the shouting, the blood, the faces of the bandits...the fire. By the end of the fight, both of Erik's parents were dead defending their home. Their home was in flames, the livestock and harvest taken by the bandits heading South, and Erik? Tears running down his cheeks, he vowed to take revenge on his parent's killers, whatever the cost may be.
That cost proved itself to be big. The Law couldn't help him, the bandits having gone far over their local juridstiction as they moved south. Then when he tried to arrange for some guns for hire to help him track them down, they refused. They were just as dirty as the raiders back home had been, refusing to rat out on their fellow comrades. Erik left that meeting in Kansas a few bullets short, a bloodied nose and the Law after him. But he just kept heading after the bandits, on his way helping others in need and taking the law into his own hands when needed. He would have justice. And if the Law couldn't serve it warm, Erik would serve it cold as ice.
His search for the band of bandits, their name changing across the United States as much as they ruined lives on their route, has finally lead him to a small town called Armadillo. Here is trail has ran cold, but his heated blood is sure to warm it up like a river in spring. He will have his justice. And afterwards? Perhaps a new life with meaning?
Additional Info Erik speaks three different languages, thanks to his upbringing: English, Norwegian and Spanish.
Do you have a personal story arc prepared Yes. Revenge and a new life.
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