Tempar training? Anders throws his head back and barks a laugh at the very thought. "Me as a templar--I can see it now. Swing a sword, extol the virtues of the Chantry, jump at every whisper of blasphemy... be boring and completely devoid of a personality. Sounds easy enough."
Chuckles continue to bubble up like the residual fix from a popped champagne bottle, but once they die away, he nods at the king-shaped indent in the snow Alistair had left behind from laying in it. "That explains why you're so comfortable in the elements."
And it goes to show that Anders isn't the only one whose rump had befriended the ground. They're even. Even.
"I won't hold it against you for missing my artistry with the ice. You were mostly blind at the time. I think my skills speak for themselves," he says with a lofty wave of his hand. "And since I'm nice as well as talented, I forgive you for sneak attacking me, by the way."
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Chuckles continue to bubble up like the residual fix from a popped champagne bottle, but once they die away, he nods at the king-shaped indent in the snow Alistair had left behind from laying in it. "That explains why you're so comfortable in the elements."
And it goes to show that Anders isn't the only one whose rump had befriended the ground. They're even. Even.
"I won't hold it against you for missing my artistry with the ice. You were mostly blind at the time. I think my skills speak for themselves," he says with a lofty wave of his hand. "And since I'm nice as well as talented, I forgive you for sneak attacking me, by the way."