The 13th age of Midgard
A ranking member of the Sol Invictus, the witch hunters of the Knights of the Undying Sun
Primary Motivators: Play, fun, enjoy life
Sense of humor: Gleeful
Quirks: Humming, sleeping in odd places
Hobbies: Embroidery, weaving, research, combat competition
First crush: Paucius Stultus, who left Desi to be with Captain Kora!
“The Knights of the Undying Sun aren’t all heavy cavalry charges and banner waving,” explained Brother Iago, “there are things in the darkness that require a more subtle approach, a surgical snip before it has a chance to grow. We are the silent footfalls of Khors; we are Sol Invictus, the witch hunters. I know that you this, Desdemona, because I’ve been tracking you. You’ve seen these things. Hell, we, my fellow brothers and sisters of Khors, once thought you were one them. I spared you because I thought you were different. I know you’re different, different from all this. You have power, Desdemona, power for good, to keep the shadows at bay. When you’re done doing whatever it is you’re doing, come and see me at the Temple of Khors at Zobeck.”
These words had cut through her stupor caused by a night’s—a week’s, no, more like months’, she didn’t even know anymore—binge of pleasure.
After the ceremony during [whatever that adventure was named]the aftershock of magic had stripped away her nightmares. No longer, whenever she would close her eyes, was she haunted by the sight of other-worldly beings, masses of tentacles, tooth and claw, seeking to rip open a passage into this world. It was her job, and her’s alone, to stop them. But now, since that day, the visions were gone. She could sleep; she could dream; she could live her own life!
She was no longer a 30 year old forever trapped in the body of a 13 year old, frozen forever in time. She now had everything she wanted: a freedom of responsibility, the fate of the world had been lifted from her; and, during a very awkward and painful week, she had grown into the beautiful woman she always knew she would be. Gone were the nightmares; gone was that strange power that allowed her to manipulate fate and time, gone was that haunted little girl with the sunken, bloodshot eyes, who clutched onto the doll her mother gave her. Desi, was gone; but, from that little girl blossomed Desdemona, who now wielded a new power—one of arcane magic, of flame and fire.
Desdeomona, though, buried this knowledge deep. Fleeing from every responsibility, seeking to regain what had been taken from her—her youth, her life—she traveled, binging on every sort of vice and pleasure she could find.
But a stranger’s words had stuck with her, a robed man who claimed to be part of a secret sect of the Knights of the Undying Sun, Sol Invictus. When the pleasure had jaded her, when the wine had lost it flavor, and the lips of men and women had lost their sweetness, those words would return to Desdemona.
Tiptoeing around the slumbering bodies of the men and women who adorned her room at the inn, those lethargic from wine, food and debauchery, she lifted a secret floorboard and dressed in her adventuring clothes, pausing as her fingertips lightly caressed the face of her doll, Jubjub, smoothing the fur around its face.
The doll blinked up at her.
“Oh, I thought you had left me,” Desdemona whispered, her eyes welling with tears.
“I’ll never leave you, Desi.” The doll said through its unmoving mouth. She quickly snatched up Jubjub, hugging it tightly to her chest, the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Let’s go to Zobeck. There’s nothing for us here.”