Fading Memory — Roleplayer Guild

Salve Regina - A Templar Chant

"The quest is most righteous, good Duke. I will ensure its success."

Name:Aldwyn Ser Hugo Le Guen
Sex:Male
Culture: Born in England, Naturalized Breton
Age: ~28
Physical Description:
Hugo is a relatively average man, all things considered. He is no hulking behemoth, no short and spindly thing, no gluttonous mass... He is simply a man who has been honed by years of training and combat into the strong and quick being who stands before you. His head is shaved, but he does maintain a patch of facial hair around his mouth and chin. His height does not rise above that of five foot eight inches, and his weight is a respectable ~150 pounds, primarily of muscle. This makes him lighter than most other knights of his size, but he is quick on his feet by comparison. Considering his propensity to opt for dagger-fighting or horseback lancing, this has served him well over the years.

His body has a number of scars, some more vicious than others, and a few he seems to consider badges of pride for surviving what gave them to him- especially a particularly wicked scar on his chest that he claims he scored from a pagan druid shaman while in England.

He typically has several daggers on his person at a time, as well as a longsword and shield of his stature. He also carries a lance for horseback combat.

The longsword carried by Hugo Le Guen is no ordinary blade- it is a blessed sword, anointed with holy waters and instilled with the blessings of a holy man truly capable of wielding miracles. He rarely wields this blade. It shines, even in the darkest nights, and Hugo claims it can pierce the flesh of even the most unholy of fiends. The blade also seems to confer some limited protection from magical ailments to its wielder.

Occupation/Skillset:
As a knight, Hugo is most skilled in the combative arts required of his stature. He has a unique mastery of the art of lancing and fighting from horseback, as well as a strange fascination with the use of the dagger while on foot- leading him to be considered one of the only knights to have mastered the short weapon that was usually neglected in the stead of a longsword, and he usually carries several on his person at a time- occasionally wielding one in conjunction with the longsword in the stead of a shield, even. This has tarnished his reputation as an otherwise exemplary knight just modestly, as other knights scoff at the use of a dagger due to its dishonorable connotations. Hugo is swift to defend his honor in these situations.

As a Templar, Hugo is also well versed in the bible and catholic law, as well as secular law for the region he calls home: Brtitony.

On a less serious note, the man also fancies himself a capable cook, having had to prepare many a meal while on the march or while travelling. It's a secret passion of his that he enjoys being able to do.

Due to his chosen home being the island of Belle-Ile, Hugo has also found himself enjoying fishing and sailing, though his skill is somewhat laughable at these endeavors if he is unassisted. 

Personality:
Hugo is a devout and strong man, but also a fiercely loyal one. He has many apprehensions within himself about mages and magic as a whole, seeing them as cheap replicas of God's power and blessings to the clergy, but he does not speak out against mages as he still sees them as fellow men. Men who study things he himself cannot comprehend.

He is, perhaps, one of the calmest men you will ever meet. He does not rise to anger easily, nor does he lack a sense of humor- and from his years of battle, little surprises him anymore. These things all combine to make him into an almost serene man, gentle in action and word unless he is driven to action.

Backstory:
Years ago, Hugo lived a life very different than the one he does now. His mother was a slave-wife, worse off than even a concubine, to the Saxon lord of Sussex. This meant that Hugo- back then called 'Aldwyn', his birth name- was a slave-boy, his lot in life to obey or die.

"Aye. I remember the time well. My mother, abused and bloodied by the man she was forced to love by pagan law. He'd won her, she had no right to disagree to anything her husband demanded. She did everything she could for me, to shield me from their wrath. I sought it out sometimes, I admit. I was a firebrand in my youth. I wanted to fight back."

Indeed, young Adlwyn despised the Saxon Lord of Sussex. Absolutely hated the man, and while he was afraid of punishment and this kept him in line for the most part, occasionally his hatred would broil over and he'd act out; throw a spear to the ground rather than put it away, knock a plate of food off a table, spill a cup of wine on the person he was delivering it to on 'accident', and many similar small acts of rebellion.

Every time he did, he saw his mother gather more bruises. Every time his mother gathered more bruises, it made him more angry. He was too young to understand that it was his actions hurting her, too young to understand that she was being punished in his stead. Too young to understand anything besides the hate in his heart.

And so the young boy continued to act out, his mother continued to be beaten, until one day his mother came to him and grabbed him by the hand, dragging him out of bed and rushing him out of their quarters.

"My Aldwyn... My sweet, sweet, Aldwyn. You mustn't look back. You mustn't."

Aldwyn didn't understand her words, but he nodded along dumbly as children do when they don't understand. He couldn't comprehend her meaning, why couldn't he look back? Where was he going?

His questions were answered soon enough as his mother sprinted him through keep, then down into the castle town, and finally onto the docks- where she rather unceremoniously threw her young child onto a ship.

"Remember your promise, Frodryr, you swore you'd get my boy to safety." She said hurriedly to the man on the small boat, a fishing vessel. 'Frodryr' nodded dumbly and licked his dried lips as she spoke.

"Aye. Ye sher this is the thing ye want? Ye'll sherly per-"

"I know, Frodryr, but he deserves more. I care not for myself, now go!"

The simple fisherman nodded and began to almost lazily set his ship to sea. Even as he  moved lazily, Aldwyn could hear the familiar shouts of the guards he often scorned. He moved to try and get to the edge of the fishing boat, to look back and see his mother, but a resounding kick to the side of the head from Frodryr sent the boy sprawling and dazed, incapable of rising.

"Keep yer hed down, kid. Yer mama's saving yer life." Frodryr said quietly, not realizing the boy had already lost consciousness.

"Old Frodryr is dead already, these days. The sea is a dangerous mistress and the insane old man sailed alone. Before he died, I asked him what happened to my mother that day. He told me she got onto a different ship, and lead the guard's suspicions away from the vessel carrying me. She died getting me out of pagan hands. I consider her sacrifice the first step of God's plan for me... Though, at the time, I was nothing if not sad and angry."

A young Aldwyn was deposited in the land of Bretons without much more than a pat on the back and a meagre some of money. Frodryr told him to seek out an abbot or holy man, and that they'd listen to his story and give him the guidance he needed. Being a young boy, no more than the age of seven by this time, he didn't have any other ideas, and thusly wandered for a few weeks until he came across a town, and people helped him find a church.

It was at this church that he met a priest by the name of Fransez in the county of Leon. Fransez took the young, angry, boy in and fed him, clothed him, and taught him the words of the Bible. Aldwyn was deeply confused by all the things Fransez tried to teach him, but as the years went by Aldwyn became a fervent believer in every word of the good book, and at the age of ten he was baptized by the holy man.

"I still remember walking to the river with Fransez like it was yesterday. The frigid waters...it was autumn, nearly winter, when we did it. He offered to wait until more pleasant times, but I denied. The bible said that baptism was a rebirth, that it cleansed you of all sins. I didn't want to wait another minute, I wanted to be clean, to have a fresh start, to leave the name 'Aldwyn' behind."

When Aldwyn rose from the waters, Frasez declared him reborn- and his new name was 'Hufo Le Guen'; Hugo the Blessed.

When they returned to the church after the event, Hugo felt better than he had in his entire life. He looked upon father Fransez with new eyes, and Hugo swears to this day that father Fransez was a truly blessed man who could perform the miracles of God.

A month later, Fransez spoke to Hugo of an order he felt the young man would be well suited for. An order of knights, heroes of the church, men who would go to far off lands and fight for the glory of God- the Knights Templar. That one conversation was all it took to convince Hugo to become a squire in the order, and eventually a full fledged knight himself.

"Fransez did me a greater service by pushing me towards the Templar than I ever realized at the time. I had spoken of joining the clergy back then, spoken with him about the possibility of becoming a priest like him, but he had always seemed hesitant- seemed as if there was something about me that wouldn't make it work. Now that I can look back on it, I was angry still. I was reborn anew, and felt cleansed of all that came before, but that sin of wrath still clung to me like a stain that you can't scrub out. The church couldn't get that stain of rage out of me, but, as God wills it, the Templar could."

Many years later, Hugo Le guen found himself on a ship sailing back for the land he was forced to flee as a child. Surrounded by compatriots, his fellow Knights Templar, speaking jovially of God's will and God's plan and God's glory.

Ordinarily he'd have been engaging in the revelry as well, but he was focused on the rocking of the ship and the bad memories it surfaced. He was cleaning and sharpening his knives as the boat sailed. This was many of his compatriot's first time to England, they simply knew the pagans lived there and the Pope wanted them to kill pagans and claim land in God's name. Hugo knew what the men and women of those lands were like. He knew they'd turn the very land itself against the invaders. He knew that didn't have nearly enough men to pull this off.

But he crushed those doubts as he sharpened the third dagger he carried, moving on to the fourth. if the Pope called for a Crusade, then this was all a part of God's plan. He knew that deep in his heart, and that bolstered his resolve. With his fourth knife now sharpened, he moved onto his longsword, cleaning and taking care of the elegant blade he rarely used.

He thought about how much his fellow knights thought ill of him for forsaking the longsword in favor of the dagger- claimed it was dishonorable to wield such a clandestine tool. Hugo's counterargument had always been that he was hardly clandestine with his use of the tool; he carried them openly, wielded them openly, and stabbed his enemies in the front rather than back. He was quick to challenge such nay-sayers to duels, and had developed a reputation amongst the Templar as an insanely good knife-fighter. Few dared challenge him on the issue these days.

But he still carried the longsword. It had been a gift from Fransez, blessed and anointed with holy water, when he had become a knight. Fransez had told him that should he ever come across a foe so unholy that it turned other blades from its flesh, to use this sword and strike true. He kept that message from Fransez in his heart, and the blessed blade on hand at all times just in case he comes across a fiend his daggers won't kill.

He looked to the shores of England, which to him seemed far too close yet also quite far away all at once. He returned the Blessed Blade to its sheathe and rose up, finally joining in the revelry with his companions now that he was certain his weapons were in order.

----

When they made shore, Hugo immediately mounted his horse and was tossed a lance by one of his fellows. It felt good to be on dry land again, and Hugo Le Guen was to be the point of the vanguard, leading the way towards the castle town of Sussex. As Hugo trotted up the barren coastline, and turned back to gaze upon the small army gathered, he couldn't help but feel unease rise in the back of his mind once more. He knew the full might of England would eventually be upon them- and the number he had gathered here was comprised almost singularly of the ranks of the Knights Templar, who, while elite and dedicated, were few when not supported by the lords of Christendom.

Well, few lords of Christendom thought England was worth saving, it seems. Hugo once more crushed his doubts, and with a resounding cry of...

"Deus Vult!"

he hoisted his lance into the air and turned his horse to lead the way towards the castle town of Sussex, encouraged forth by the return cry of his fellow Templars.

---
"We crusaders marched for but a few hours before the contagion appeared. I seemed to be spared the curse thanks to Fransez's blessing, but I watched as my fellows grew colder as they walked, as spots blemished their skins, and as they grew weaker and weaker with every step they took. Not all of our number suffered the contagion, but enough to make an already hopeless war entirely futile. But still we marched, determined, with God's Might in our hearts. We could tell it was foul magic at work, for no mortal disease killed as quickly as this contagion did. Pagan shamans, some of my fellows cried.

They were wrong, what haunted us was far worse than a shaman of the Saxons. What haunted us was a druid, defending the county of Sussex. We were not prepared for her wrath. What she did to the horses is what secured our defeat."

After a few hours march, where Hugo ordered sick and dying to return to the boats and make them ready in case a retreat was needed, the company was set upon by forces most unnatural. As the horses trotted forth through brush and clearing alike, it was a sudden lurching of the earth that alerted Hugo to the coming danger. He immediately set his lance and turned to let loose a warning cry- but he was too slow.

Thick vines exploded from the growth, twisting and lurching to reach the horses and their riders. The beasts panicked, whinnying at the sudden and unnatural plant growth, but most, if not all, of them found themselves tangled and toppled, trapped on the ground and a number of them crushing their riders under their weight.

Hugo was not one such rider. He toppled to the ground with his horse, dropping his lance. HE drew a dagger from his many sheathes and swiftly cut the vines tying him to his horse, efficiently freeing himself and allowing him to regain his footing as his horse cried in fear.

"Druid!" He cried out. "Ambush!"

And before the company could truly recover, score upon score of pagan soldiers streamed forth out of the wilderness surrounding the company and began to do battle against the greatly hindered knights. A few knights were beset upon by several attackers at once before they could cut themselves free of the vines and overwhelmed, others were already on their feet and forming a battle line, overcoming the pagan warriors with their far superior skill-

But in a silent moment of horror, Hugo understood they had no chance, and steeled his heart to meet his God should he fall here, today. He braced himself and turned, dagger in one hand and shield in the other, to face an onslaught of attackers. Hugo doesn't fully understand how he survived the onslaught he did, but he can only attest it to God's Will. Deus Vult.

Hugo slew dozens of attackers, at some point in the fight losing his shield and drawing his Blessed Blade, its light making the vines coursing around him wilt and wither, the blessing in the sword cleansing the foul curse upon the wood. With blazing sword in one hand, and bloodied knife in the other, Hugo forged his way through the combat back to the battle line with his fellow Templars, and began to chant a prayer- the fellow Templars joining in, creating one moving mass of battle.

Crucem sanctam subiit,
 qui infernum confregit,
 accinctus est potentia,
 surrexit die tertia. Alleluia

As the Templars grouped up, no longer isolated and easy pickings, the pagan warriors found themselves outmatched by the elite knights of Christendom. The heavy armor, fine steel blades, and unwavering belief in their cause made the Templars fight as if frenzied against the berserkers and wild men of the Saxon soldiers- but mass numbers will turn the tide of any battle. Without the advantage of their heavy cavalry, it was only a matter of time before the Templars found themselves being routed by the Saxon warriors.

By this point in the battle, Hugo was fighting like a man possessed, a whirlwind of light and steel as he fought to hold the line so his brethren could retreat. Soon it was only he and a few stalwart knights left on their feet on the field of battle, the rest of the Templars retreating behind them-

but the Saxon warriors didn't charge. It was strange, Hugo thought, that they refused to attack. Then he heard it- A feminine call, a voice that seemed to echo from the trees themselves, resonating around the few remaining Templars.

"That one wields a blade blessed by one who possesses true faith. Shall I show them how little that faith matters?" The feminine voice whispered through the wind. The Saxon Band yelled a resounding affirmative. Huge set his jaw and whirled about, looking for the source of the voice, and he soon found what he was looking for;

walking out of the trees was a woman clothed more in flowers than in clothes, and she seemed smug, the very plant life around her growing in her footsteps. She smiled coyly at Hugo, lifted a hand-

and a bolt of white hot fire struck him through the breastplate he wore, piercing through his chest just above his heart, and spearing him through and through. He fell back into the arms of one of his colleagues, the woman's visage burning itself into his mind's eye as the world fell black around him.

----

"I owe much to Fransez. Without him, I'd have died an orphan boy in the streets, and without him I'd have died of that druid's wicked magic. I didn't wake up, I learned, until nearly a month after that woman's lightning struck me. Fransez says it's a miracle I'm alive. I told him that the miracle was from him, and that God had a plan for me still."

Hugo, awakening nearly a month after he suffered that grievous wound, found himself back in Breton land, under the roof of the same church he grew up in as a young boy. He was informed that his friends had carried him back to the boats, then sailed him back to Leon to be under the care of the miraculous priest Fransez, whom was as close to a father the Templar had in this life.

He spent some time in that cathedral, the church having grown under Fransez's tenure as priest, recovering his strength and learning of the happenings in the world he had missed out on.

The crusade was a resounding failure. The druid's magic, combined with the lack of support from the Christian lords of Europe, had completely handicapped the Knights Templar and repelled them. England had reinforced its power and faith, and scoffed at the Pope all the while. Christendom was in trouble- and even more so, the Knights Templar.

He learned that the order had immense troubles in France- the king of the Gauls had taken a particular hatred for the Knights Templar due to the king's debt to them, and it seemed that the order was having troubles staying on its feet after the failed Crusade. Between the troubles brewing in Gaul for the Templar Order, the failed crusade, and Hugo's recovering strength... It left the man solemn and he sought out an isolated place to stay, a place he could recover and meditate in peace, until he had found himself once more.

And this is when Hugo Le Guen sought out a home on Belle-Ile, an island south of Brittony's shores. He established himself there, and spent some months and years on that island building a church and attracting a small band of the Templar order to the island he now called home. With time, the island of Belle-Ile became known as a Templar Stronghold under Hugo's guidance, and he attained the rank of Templar Master and Commander, making him the highest ranking Templar in Brittony. Resolved to maintain his faith and convictions, Hugo took this title to heart- vowing that Belle-Ile would always be a haven to the Knights Templar, even if Gaul turned them out.

"I was Master and Commander of my own Commandery. An immense honor, to be sure. I answered directly to the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, and with the growing tensions in Gaul he found my stronghold to be of particular interest to himself. The island of Belle-Ile had become a veritable stronghold, strong yet small and isolated. Perfect for Templars such as myself who wanted time away from the world and its worries until my services were needed once more.

I hadn't expected the Duke of Brittony himself to be the next man I was ordered to assist. It seems the Grand Master was seeking to bring retribution on the king of Gaul for his rabble-rousing with the order. I was more than satisfied with assisting in the Duke's endeavors, especially since it was at the Grand Master's behest. Gaul would learn to fear the Knights Templar, whether it be for transgressions against us directly, or against God's Plan for his people."

Hugo received a missive from the Grand Master himself one day while he was seeing to the administration of the Stronghold of Belle-Ile. It was directing him to leave the stronghold under the care of his Marshal, and that he should seek out the Duke of Brittony and assist him in any way he could.

Hugo accepted the charge given to him by the Grand Master and set sail for the Duke's lands, leaving behind his Stronghold under the capable care of the commandery he had grown over the years. He knew Bell-Ile would still be there when he returned, and knew that God's Plan would carry him forward until he could come back home.

Rescuing a princess is most righteous work indeed. Crossing Gaul would be dangerous and hard work, especially with the secrecy required and the rising hostilities against the Knights Templar. Hugo welcomed the quest, brave and steadfast as ever.
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