Al is a lean, wiry 19 year old with chestnut hair that stands in tangled tufts like a bird nest. His eyes are wide and bright blue, sparkling with a manic intensity that never seems to dim. He wears worn leather armor patched with wolf fur and carries two notched shortswords. A perpetual, gap-toothed grin occupies his face, even when he is staring down a monster or walking through a storm.

Relentlessly cheerful and possessed by a warped sense of logic, Al views the world as a wonderful, dangerous playground. He is immensely confident in his own luck and has a habit of finding inspiration in the most gruesome circumstances. He talks to inanimate objects and animals with the same frantic friendliness he shows to people. He treats combat as a delightful game of tag.

Al was lost to the wilds as a young child after his traveling caravan was ransacked. Most children would have perished, but Al psyche fractured into a shield of blissful madness. He grew up believing the whispers of the wind were jokes and the predatory growls of monsters were songs. He survived by mimicking the chaotic movements of the forest, developing a fighting style that is as unpredictable as it is frantic. He emerged from the woods at age nineteen, not as a scarred survivor, but as a man who genuinely believes the world is a beautiful, hilarious riddle. He holds no malice toward death, viewing it as the grand punchline of the joke called life. This perspective gives him an unnerving bravery that others find strangely magnetic, despite his obvious lack of sanity. He now wanders the civilized lands, looking for the next exciting game to play and the next person to share his chaotic joy with.