Lord Jourdain Wyrmguard
That we suffer is not a choice. How we endure the suffering, is.
Description: Despite having the stark white hair and blue eyes which are common among his kin, Jourdain Wyrmguard is a missable personage in a room, though that owes much more to an active intention to be unobtrusive than to any actual lack of presence. His demeanor blends patient weariness and a sort of bleak, gallows confidence. His eyes bear a watchful perspicacity that suggests a well-read, measured nature, though it would be an error to mistake his ethereal looks and quiet reserve for martial inexperience. He wears his sword as if it is an extension of himself, and his hands wear the calluses of having used it often.
Personality: A dour, reserved man, Jourdain Wyrmguard listens a great deal and speaks comparatively little. This is perhaps reflective of a personality which prefers to observe, process, and think about the knowledge he gains from the world around him in great depth before coming to any conclusions. Many people would call this kind of person "humorless," but Jourdain is not without his own brand of humor; it's just so dry that most of the time it flies by unnoticed as humor at all. Typically calm and even-tempered, he is difficult to ruffle, though it is an open question whether that indicates deep bravery and valiance, or simply a chronic lack of desire to get worked up about most trivial matters. He seems like the sort of person who continually has "more important things on his mind," which inclines the answer towards the latter.
Background: The only son of Clement Wyrmguard, who was himself a younger son of Ubald Wyrmguard, Jourdain Wyrmguard never knew his mother, who left shortly after his birth. Some witnesses claimed to have seen her walking along the mountain paths in the early morning, the day she did not come back. Tracks led up, but none led down.
He was raised by his father alone, and by the family retainers. As they lived a little distance from Blancbier proper, where the forests gave way to the mountains, life was marked by continual and intermittent clashes with the Abandoned tribes who inhabited the hills. This push-pull against nearby Abandoned was a fact of existence; he saw his first shavs from an early age, and with regularity over the course of his life. Conflicts arose frequently between the Abandoned and his family and people, who shared a small amount of space on mountainous land which already had little to give.
Descended from an oft-overlooked cadet branch of Wyrmguard, an important cross-family match was not particularly sought for Jourdain. He married close to home, to a younger daughter of Count Philippe Blanchard: Isabelle, who he fell for at the young age of eighteen. His father let it pass, as Clement let pass most things which did not unduly disrupt the avoidant state he lived in ever since his wife's disappearance. It was a decent enough match.
Jourdain loved his Blanchard wife, and he loved the daughter they had, who was always asking questions, exploring, reading, and wanting to know -more-. He loved them enough that when disease took them both after eight years of marriage, they took with him much of his strength and zeal for life.
Duty became a replacement, for a while. His father dealt less and less with family issues, and more and more things were left to Jourdain. When the Silent War broke, it was Jourdain who faced the main of it, and not his father. Despite his grief, he took these duties on. There was business to take care of, and his father could or would not take care of it anymore.
A few short months after his wife and daughter's passing, Jourdain rode out at the beginning of the day with two men-at-arms, and returned at the end of the night alone. By the next week, with very little said, he left his family lands entirely, and was not heard of again for years.
It would be two years before he appeared again, in Arx, swearing himself to the Faith to do a yearlong penance. At the end, he gave his sword in service as a Templar, though to all accounts he does not seem to believe his absolution stops there.
|Bianca||My guard, my cousin. My Ward of Creation. He is devoted, if perhaps a little over-serious, and for that I am happy to have him at my side -- but it is the source of devotion that troubles me. We cannot cloister ourselves in our cages of guilt forever. ... It is a fact I know all too well.|
|Briseis||A noble templar who sees to a higher duty of protecting the Legate, and worthy of great respect! However, I believe I offended him... perhaps I was too familiar, or my merits too common...|
|Gerald||A most skilled warrior. And not quite so stuffy as many Oathlanders!|
|Katryn||A quiet, penitent knight. Still, I can sense his devotion, and I've heard his sad, sad tale. He bears his pain like weights upon his face, bearing down the corners of his mouth and spirit both. Take heart! Take heart, sir! The day will grow brighter after the night falls!|
|Kritr||He doesn't look like much, but he knows how to fight. And that sword! I'm going to ask who made it for him.|
|Philippe||I know all who have mingled with the blood of Blanchard, no matter how distantly. I know what it is to lose a child; the profound defeat, the echoing silence in your heart. It takes the heart of a champion to press on in spite of such crushing agonies. That the young lord has managed to find focus and purpose within the Faith is a joyful thing. He has my deepest respect and profound gratitude.|
|Richard||I believe my cousin would agree: What is there to say?|
|Verity||What are the odds of Legate Bianca choosing a Templar guardian who is as fun to tease as she? Though, his frowns are mighty enough to give me occasional pause.|