"An apostate, a dwarf, and a Templar walk into a bar... all we need is a horse and a Chantry Sister and we can do the whole joke."
Nickname:
Al.
Nordy.
Smart ass.
Gender: "Look, I know I'm wearing a dress and all, but I'm a guy."
Age; "22, but I've been told I'm mature for my age...."
Sexuality: "Well, I certainly haven't licked any lampposts if that's what your asking."
Race: Human
Role: "Isn't it obvious? I'm the foot masseuse."
Status: Templar
Hair
- Color and Length: "Short, red, and neatly trimmed. Helps to avoid the helmet hair. Oh, and the most stylish damn goatee you'll ever lay eyes on."
Eye
- Color and Shape: Softly rounded, and emerald green. Tends to have a warming quality to them when he's not smarting you off.
Skin Tone: As you could imagine, people who spend all day in churches, temples, towers, and in armor don't exactly keep good tans. I guess technically this makes him a ginger.
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 183 lbs.
Overall Appearance: In his armor, he only stands out from the other cookie-cutters by his personality and views. Usually only seen without his helmet, Nordin has a light complexion with carefully trimmed facial hair. His soft and fuzzy face and serrated tongue often lead some people to believe that he lacks skill when he comes to a blade. And that's why he uses a mace.
Personality: "Of course I have to mock everything, it's my family heritage! I come from a long and proud line of wise-ass remarks. All the way back to old Reginald 'Big Mouth' Nordin himself."
Most anyone who looks his way only sees yet another faceless drone in armor. It's usually a shock when he starts telling one-liners. His loose attitude, calm head, sarcastic come-backs, and point of view over mages would make anyone wonder how he became a Templar. Especially that last part. Not only does he feel sorry for those in the circle, he can even sympathize with those who run. There's a very personal reason behind that, one he likely won't share.
History: Alfonse grew up with two younger brothers and one little sister in a cozy home in east Denerim, where they lived with two loving (though not always to each other) parents. All was fine till the sister, Angelai, showed magical potential, and sure enough she was swept away to the Circle. The ever nosy neighbor saw her casting "witchcraft", and the Chantry was beating down the door the next day. Out of all the household, Alfonse took it the hardest. He was the last to see her crying face, and all the fear that it held. He took it upon himself to see her safe, and with only one clear option of how to do that. So, with a little begging and pleading, and a whole lot of pious devotion and arse-kissing, he joined the ranks of the Templars. He knew they guarded the Circle's tower, but had no idea exactly why. Upon actually arriving, he found that it was little more than a gilded prison.
He pitied them, as most of them were children with no clue why they were taken. It was almost enough to make him cry when he finally laid eyes on his sister. The two greeted as expected from two long lost siblings, but he could scarcely tell her all that he knew. What the Templars actually thought of these mages. But he pressed on, and kept her in blissful ignorance. They weren't home, but they were happy... and that was enough. Or at least till her Harrowing. Neither knew what to expect, but Alfonse had heard the stories of mages who..... "didn't pass". They both knew nothing of the Fade, as it wasn't allowed for mages to ever enter that dreamscape till their Harrowing. They weren't even told about it, but one way or another they all heard of it. Then they were simply tossed to the wolves.
Angelai looked terrified, but he couldn't tell her. How could he? Maybe if he told her a lie, it'd raise her spirits. Maybe it'd make her believe in herself enough to let her pass. It was all he could hope for, so that's what he told her. He said that'd it was more of a test of her courage. That practically every mage passes. That all she had to do was just be smart and calm about it, and she'd be back before long. She'd come back.
.......She didn't till it was almost too late, and Alfonse had to be forcibly removed from the chamber. He'd even gone so far as to take up arms, but was swiftly subdued. Though, things would never be the same. Alfonse now knew exactly what the Templars thought of mages. To the Chantry, they were disposable. The Harrowing was just a method of separating the worthy from.... the worthless. So much for the will of the Maker, which Alfonse doubted would allow the casting away of any of his children. Especially those born with a gift he granted them. He made his choice, destroyed his sister's phylactery, and forced her to escape. He couldn't let her stay here, and he couldn't know where she would run..
Needless to say, Greagoir was furious. Only intervention by First Enchanter Irving saved Nordin from being demoted. Or worse. Though Alfonse was spared the full furry of Greagoir's wrath, the Knight-Commander had many ways of punishing insubordination. One of them being guarding a certain cage, which held a certain annoyance......
Weapon: Steel mace and heavy steel kite-shield, which bears the Templar insignia.
Mount: "Right now? Oh, just a wagon being led by a terrified horse with a demon-possessed sadist in the back. You know, the usual...."
Potential Interest:'Uhh... well.... you know... I haven't... really looked at anyone... Oh, not that they're not.... uhhh .... you know, I just.... What were we talking about?'