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Irminric Eremon

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Irminric Eremon

New Member
Canon Character
Noble
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
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Name: Irminric Eremon

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: 21 Justinian, 3 Dragon

Occupation: Bann of Waking Sea

Companion(s): Harlow, a young and energetic retainer




At full height, Irminric stands at a solid six feet, but he has a tendency to lean slightly to his left to keep weight off his right side due to old injuries sustained during his imprisonment. While his build is on the muscular side, to old friends he looks like more of a shadow of the man he once was. Years of recovery and the transition from Templar to nobleman have visibly taken their own toll on his once powerful, towering form, leaving him with the look of a warrior, albeit not a great one.

Dark brown hair is clipped around his ears, and a well-groomed beard frames his usually solemn mouth. Over the years gray has begun to pepper his hair, and it’s especially prominent around his ears. Tired brown eyes peer out from beneath heavy brows. Like any Templar, they seem hollow and dark, but not all is lost. Recovery has done some to reduce the dullness that once clouded his eyes and kept his gaze downcast. Now he puts plenty of effort into keeping his chin up, making eye contact, and not thinking about the past enough to bring back that glazed-over look some of his closer confidants claimed used to afflict him.




Class: Warrior

Specialization: Templar (Expert)

Weapons & Armor: With his old injuries, Irminric has no need to don armor for practical purposes. Even so, a set of red steel plate armor emblazoned with the crest of the Waking Sea is still kept for him along with his old steel sword and shield from his days as a Templar.

Languages: Common

Non-Combat Skills:

Master: Military Lore, Religious Lore - Chantry
Expert: Stamina, Etiquette (Fereldan), Historical Lore (Fereldan), Arcane Lore
Intermediate: Leadership, Hearing, Diplomacy, Calligraphy, Might, Riding, Tracking, Wilderness Survival
Novice: Crafting (Woodworking), Dancing, Investigation, Writing

Combat Skills:

Master: Weapon & Shield (Sword),
Expert: Single Weapon (Sword), Righteous Strike, Mental Fortress
Intermediate: Cleanse Area, There is No Darkness, Two-handed Weapons
Novice: Blessed Blades, Holy Smite,

Armor Proficiency: Medium & Heavy



Irminric never had what most people would call “presence”. He could never fill a room quite like his sister, nor could he stand out in a crowd. Irminric thrives in the shadow of others, a role that suited him quite well within the Templars but now never ceases to bite him as a Bann. He takes criticism seriously, though, and while he gives an honest effort to improvement, his gentle voice and often gentler orders and punishments have given him the reputation of a pushover.

Earnest is how Harlow, Irminric’s closest retainer, would describe him. No matter the task, Irminric tries to put his best foot forward. It can make for awkward conversations and even more awkward situations, especially when Irminric suddenly lacks the spine to follow through in more challenging situations. Fear and guilt often hold him back from his full potential even as he strives to push past it all for the good of his people.

Years of addiction and recovery have left Irminric reluctant to touch alcohol of any sort. He is woefully afraid of returning to the man he used to be, especially for his son’s sake. He loves the boy more than anything else, and he makes an effort to ensure his son will never see him the way he used to be before the boy was brought to him.


As the elder son of the Eremons, plenty of pressure was placed on Irminric from a young age to take over the Waking Sea. From rigorous education to even more rigorous martial training, Irminric was well aware of what was expected of him from the start; the problem was that he wanted none of it.

Irminric proved to be a poor student, one that enjoyed tales of knights and dragons far more than the bland histories and laws he was pressed to learn. Although he showed promise as a swordsman, that was about all there was to him. He was an obedient child that rarely raised his voice and preferred to keep to himself whenever he could. It was a relief when his younger sister, Alfstanna, became old enough to require more attention from his educators, leaving him to his own devices more and more often.

Even as a child Irminric could tell Alfstanna was going to be far more capable than him. His tutors delighted in her presence, and it was obvious she was picking up on the material faster than he ever did. People were drawn to her in a way that they never were to him, but the development came as more of a relief to him than anything else. There was no need to be jealous over someone taking something he never wanted in the first place.

Irminric fell behind in his studies, much to the frustration of his tutors. No amount of reprimands from his parents nor begging and pleading from his tutors made him put more effort into his studies. Instead, he focused more on his swordsmanship as an idea of how exactly he’d get out of his fate started coming together.

At the age of seventeen, Irminric was quickly running out of time. His father was on his deathbed, and preparations were being made for him to take over the bannorn. It was obvious to many how little he cared for the title, so when he announced at his father’s bedside that he was joining the Templars, there was palpable relief in the room. Nobody argued it. Instead, there was newfound vigor as the staff prepared for Alfstanna - strong and shrewd Alfstanna, not quiet and meek Irminric - to take over.

The day after his sister’s coronation, Irminric left for the Circle Tower. It was there that he began his training as a Templar, and he took to it like a fish in water. He was already moderately skilled with a sword, and his quiet, detached personality made him perfect at executing orders without questioning them. For once he was being praised as a valued recruit, one of the best in his group. Even so, he kept his head low to avoid the attention his prowess was getting for him. By the time he’d taken his vows and had his first draft of Lyrium, he’d made sure to be completely average.

It was his average way about being a Templar that caught the attention of his superiors. His unquestioning, unflinching personality along with the way that he never seemed to get close to any of the mages made them believe he would do well beyond the Circle Tower. He was trustworthy and handy with a sword, and paired with a skilled tracker, they decided he would excel at hunting down apostates.

At the age of twenty-five, Irminric was partnered with a young but seasoned hunter and sent off on expeditions to hunt down apostates. Sometimes they would only last a few days, others would see him and his partner away from the Circle Tower for months. Either way, they always found their mage, and they always found a way to deliver them, dead or alive. During those years, the only constants in his life were his partner, Blair, and his Lyrium, a combination that he never could complain about.

Throughout his service as a Templar, his Lyrium meant more to him than most anything else. It was always there, always keeping him steady, always keeping him in a haze that veiled him from the true horrors of Templar life. It also was what helped keep his personality far more subdued than normal. The dreams of a noble Templar were dull and grey now, replaced by the grim days and nights spent hunting mage after mage with Blair, a woman that never ceased to be an enigma to him.

At first he thought she was just like him: obedient and dedicated. Despite her youth, she excelled at chasing down even the most slippery of mages. It was obvious she didn’t need him, but she would always claim that having an extra sword around never hurt. She would often talk and talk on their excursions to fill the silence as they traversed Thedas, telling him tales of her home in the Free Marches, each more confusing than the last. Her family was large, full of cousins and second cousins and everything in-between, all with enough of a noble claim to create too much squabbling, so she’d left for the Templars and never looked back.

She liked that he listened - that’s what Blair would tell him at the end of every night. Had he not been in such a daze from the Lyrium and the long days of travel on top of his generally detached demeanor, he might have developed feelings for the young woman, but rules were rules within the Templars and no emotions were going to betray that. They spent years hunting together, always the same days and nights of her talking and him listening until one night it wasn’t just that.

Their latest mage had proved to be more challenging than they’d anticipated. After a fight that involved far more close calls than they were accustomed to, it ended with them taking the ashes of an abomination home instead of a mage. The thrill of the fight pulled Irminric out of his haze enough to finally do what he thought he never would with Blair that night. He woke up beside her the next morning, but as badly as he wanted things to return to business as usual, he couldn’t shake the feeling of shame and disgust that settled on his shoulders.

When they were tasked with hunting down Jowan a few fortnights later, Blair claimed illness and suggested Irminric could handle it on his own. With that as his blessing, he sought out the mage only to be captured by Loghain’s men on the way back to the Circle Tower with Jowan in tow. He was sent to Denerim where, for the first time since he became a Templar, he had no access to Lyrium.

At first, the withdrawal put him in more of a haze than he’d been in before. Brief moments of clarity would come to him, moments where he would remember what he’d done in the Circle, all the mages he’d hunted down. He felt emotions he didn’t remember having - anger, sadness, joy - in extremes that made him bite his own tongue lest he draw attention to himself. Memories mixed with dreams until reality became nothing more than a muddled mess on top of the torture he was already enduring from his captors. It was enough to drive him to a madness that, had the Warden not found him, would have consumed him whole. Fortunately, the Warden found him in one of his moments of clarity, just enough for him to think of giving the Warden his ring so his sister might find him.

Much to his surprise, it worked. Alfstanna had him out of his cell and on his way back to the Waking Sea. His injuries sustained while he was imprisoned made him incapable of rejoining the Templars, so he settled in back home to figure out what he could do next.

Although life was settling down after the Blight, Irminric wasn’t. Lyrium withdrawal left him irritable at the best of times and downright intolerable at the worst. He took to drinking to temper himself on difficult days, but those became more commonplace as time wore on and he had more time to think of all he’d done for the Templars and how he’d done it all without so much as a second thought. He became a thorn in Alfstanna’s side, nothing better than a tired man leeching off what remained of his family.

A year later, Blair showed up at the Eremon estate. While Irminric was surprised to see her, he was even more surprised to see the toddler in her arms. After welcoming her into the estate and trying his best not to grab the first bottle of whiskey he could find, he listened to her explain how she’d deserted the Templars not long after he’d set out for Jowan. She’d found her way back home to the Free Marches where she had the child, Percival. She then went on in her talkative way of everything that had happened at her home, but Irminric stopped listening. He knew the child was his, a fact that Blair confirmed like it was obvious before jumping back into her story.

Blair and Percival were put up in the estate as Irminric sorted out how he wanted to handle the two. After everything that had happened at the Circle Tower, he doubted that the Templars would be too concerned about searching for a deserter. She claimed she’d returned to Ferelden simply because she couldn’t stand her manipulative family, but there was still the lingering danger that an old Templar would remember her, would want her to pay for deserting. His own hazy mind wouldn’t let itself admit that he still loved her as much as he did that one night, so he put on airs of logic and reason and convinced himself that only marriage could give her enough diplomatic immunity to protect her from any wrathful Templars.

Blair accepted his proposal as if it was obvious from the start, and not long after they were married. Irminric stopped drinking altogether, instead throwing himself into taking care of Percival and Blair. For awhile life seemed blissful - his nightmares were less frequent, Blair filled his ears with story after story, and watching Percival grow and learn never ceased to delight him.

Not all was perfect for Blair, though. Irminric watched her grow anxious and agitated as each day passed, until finally she admitted that she couldn’t stay. She’d spent so much of her life on the road that staying in one place just wouldn’t fit. As much as she loved Percival and Irminric, it didn’t stop her from leaving one night and never returning.

Irminric tried not to let it show how badly it affected him, more for his son’s sake than his own. The announcement a few months later that Alfstanna would be taking over as Arl of Denerim only made him that much more determined to focus on home instead of her. He accepted the offer to take over as Bann in Alfstanna’s stead despite his own doubts over his capabilities. Still, fears of what would happen to Blair on her own never ceased to plague him, so he subtly sent a few of his own men to search for her. In the meantime, he splits his attention between caring for Percival and learning to lead the Waking Sea as best he can.
 
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