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Desdrin von Borelius

The cost for this cursed sight was far too great. The humor of the gods' is far too cruel ...

0 · 163 views · located in Avarice

a character in “Sins of Our Dear Father”, as played by Asterisk

Description

Age: 24

Description: Like many of the proud sons of Arcadia, Desdrin towers at 6’2” as was the norm of many Arcadian men. He has various scars on his back from when he fled from the area between Demacia and Nubradia, which would soon be known as the Great Line. He has the rich, brown eyes of his mother and the brown hair of his father. As customary for any refugee, his body was initially well under-nourished, but months of finding work, it became toned and strong.

Image

History: Before his ascension to the Chosen, Desdrin came from a poor family of farmer’s who moved to Nubradia’s borders when the great famine swept over Arcadia. Though of Arcadian blood, Desdrin learned to embrace the culture and speech of the Nubradians who’s background contrasts heavily against the high, reserved society of Arcadians. Where the Nubradian dialect was that of slurred speech, the Arcadian’s spoke with fine, fair cadence.

In his youth, not only was he active as an able farm hand, but his prowess within the Nubradian Sand Sentinels won him much favor within the country. As with all boys of his age, all were required to drill with the regular Sentinels, for the call to protect Nubradia required all men — regardless of status — to fight. Initially, Desdrin hated the service. It was only after several victories within his sparring matches did he realize his talent. In time, he learned to love the struggle of conflict. It was when he turned of age did the Sentinels offer him the position of Sand Warden. To the surprise of many, he declined instead deciding to remain in the reserve and returned home.

It was when he reached his twenty-first cycle did the great war begin. His town, residing on the Nubradian-Demacian border, was the first of many homes decimated. During the feeble defense of his home, he received the gift of the blessed sight. Within every being, an aura enshrouded them. When he fought with the sight, the demon’s soul could not hide away from his gaze. When poised to slay a demon, not only did the foul beast’s body disappear, but so did its soul. Different from the brothers and sisters of the Holy Order, upon slaying a Fellous, Desdrin may choose to consume the demon’s soul or simply cast it into oblivion. Both have their respective gains and losses.

After that fateful day of receiving the sight, Desdrin didn’t fight. He ran like a coward, for the Fellous were like nothing he had ever encountered before. When he should have fought with his fellow Sentinels, he threw his name in disgrace as he struggled to move his family to safety. It was all for nought, for his mother and father were lost to the beasts. With nothing left for him, he traveled farther away from his home country and into Arcadia where he resides presently.

So begins...

Desdrin von Borelius's Story

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The Holy City of Veir. Stories about its tall cathedrals and its cleanliness couldn’t even prepare him for what he witnessed in the flesh. Being his first time, Desdrin looked from building to building in wonder. Street merchants, unlike others that he’d seen from other towns, wore the holy symbol of the old gods as they sold their wares. Guards dressed in white and red battledress stood at spaced distances. Desdrin swore he could see suspicious eyes move to and fro from underneath those elegant helmets of theirs.

“We’ve been searching for quite some time.” The hooded old man in his crimson robes — more specifically a priest — walked at a slow pace. He had shown up at Desdrin’s modest abode several weeks past near the Arcadia-Nubradian border. The Nubradian native almost mistook him as a Nubradian Seeker. “The gods spoke of a pair left behind to correct the wrongs of the mad king. Praise the old ones. Praise them that we’ve found you.”

Desdrin frowned. Their steps took them ever closer to the grand cathedral. By the gods, he was going to meet the Goddess! A deserter like him didn’t deserve such an honor. Even if he was this … ‘chosen’.

“I still believe you’re mistaken,” he said. “How could you be so sure that I am what you say?”

The old man chuckled. He heaved as he climbed a flight of stone steps. “Adhere to the litanies as much as I have,” said the priest between breaths, “you get this sense. Spiritual of course. Those who practice daily have it stronger than those who don’t. For example, take a paladin for example. There’s a … force with them that even a lay person can feel. Such is the strength of their spirituality. You, on the other hand, are something very few in the Cathedral may ever feel.”

Though interesting, the priest did little to assuage his inquiries. It confounded Desdrin as it rose a plethora of fresh questions. He noticed the old man stop as he looked ahead. There before him were two large finely carved wooden doors that towered almost to the heights of the Cathedral’s walls. The Order certainly spared no expense flaunting its extravagance.

“Here we are,” said the priest. “Whatever happens within, remain firm in your faith. We’ll see, now, if you’re truly who I claim you to be. May the old gods smile upon you.”



The priest guided him through the large chambers within. Devotional was already underway. When he fled Nubradia — even within Arcadia — the teachings had been abandoned. The land was ruled under military law as soldiers marched to the front. Each time he saw a marching column, the soldiers poorly outfitted grew younger. How many had passed away while these people knelt before the priest conducting sermons? Desdrin looked away as they exited the large chamber.

Another pair of gigantic doors stood before him. Several unmoving guards stood before it. Desdrin already knew who they were. The Inquisition’s paladins. Their deeds ran rampant in his mind as his body tensed instinctively.

“Wait here,” said the priest. He walked to the nearest guard as they exchanged greeting and words. Permitted, the old man disappeared behind the door.

Desdrin waited as instructed as he felt the eyes of the guards bore into him. His skin crawled as instincts from long past kicked in. From being out of practice, he wondered just how strong the Inquisition’s paladins were. Were they just normal guards garbed in pretty armor or worthy opponents? He entertained the thought until he heard a pair of footsteps from behind.

A woman with deep violet eyes and bronze skin walked behind a priestess. Desdrin was intrigued to say the least. He had seldom seen anyone with eyes like hers. The bronze skin was common in Nubradia. The eyes were not. She couldn’t have come from the Eastern Edge Desdrin thought to himself. Perhaps the Western or Southern Edges?

The stranger was told to wait like him before the priestess disappeared behind the doors. Desdrin blinked as his eyes turned from their normal sombre brown to a more luminescent variant of its color. His vision as well. Instead of the bland colors of normality, he saw the world bathed within bright colors. Several of the paladins appeared with the purest white while others bathed in the darkest of black. He had long since learned what the colors meant. Though he didn't remember how he obtained this ability, it had saved him on occasion. He remembered his run in with the thieves. He shuddered from the memory.

He turned to look at the woman. His intrigue transformed into keen interest.

“How strange,” he said more so to himself. She had no aura! His gaze lingered before his manners kicked in.

“Pardon me, Madam,” he said in accordance to Arcadian customs. Nubradia’s culture may be … to foreign he concluded. He looked back towards the door. “I assume we’re both in similar circumstance. Did the sister tell you why we’re here? The brother who led me here answered in … riddles. I forget my manners. Desdrin von Borelius of Nubradia. A pleasure madam.”

A few moments later, before they had time to converse, the doors swung open as the priest and priestess came back out. “Her Holiness shall see you,” said the older priest. “By their will, through her Holiness, may Avarice prosper.”

“By their will, through her Holiness, may Avarice prosper,” spoke the paladins in unison as their posture stiffened.

Desdrin merely made the sign of respect as he walked forward. His heart hammered against his chest. An audience with her Holiness. This was a chance few ever received he thought to himself.

He steeled himself for whatever may transpire as he emerged into the large audience room. Paladins lined to each side near the base of the pillars that reached from the floor to the ceiling. Each one bathed in white. The Goddess — as the Holy Order of the Inquisition called her — rested on a bright, blue crystal throne as sunlight spilled through the stain glass high above giving her Holiness an ethereal shine.

Desdrin dared not meet her eyes as he stopped at the bottom most stair and kneeled. “Through the old gods will, may Avarice prosper,” he said in greeting as he awaited her response.