"You still have all your pieces, yeah? Quit your complain'n." - Alphonse, to a wounded solider

Appearance:

A tall, fit man with brownish red hair that is always kept short. One less thing for someone to to grab on to, he would say. Green eyes that almost look like emeralds, if they weren't dulled with time. Never clean shaven, always keeping a bit of stubble. Dresses quite well when not wearing his red and white gambeson. His own little creation to tell people out in the field who to can go to for healing. Usually carries all his supplies on him in a backpack and two satchels on either side of his person.

Backstory:

Some people go to war to fight for king/queen and country. All of them say it's the highest honour someone could have. To die for what you believe in. Alphonse would call them all idiots. He's spent a lot of time on those battlefields, and knows that a dead soldier isn't winning any medals...but no one's winning anything anymore.

He was a soldier during the Reckoning, but he didn't carry a blade. He didn't need one for his work, for he was there to make sure those patriotic and devoted morons kept breathing. Not through magic. Not through faith. But through medicine, herbalism, and hard grit. Now though? He heals those who survived. Those that want to continue living in a world after the Fall. And there was no better place to apply his skills then with The Guild. At least he won't become rusty.