Path

[*witchinghour]

\\More to come! And I'll always welcome people to post their point of view of Danae as long I'm asked :D

But death was her curse and her gift, and death had been her good friend these long, long years

Themes: Lullaby , Credence, How to deal with the death of a loved one.

  

Basic Information
Name: Danae Gren
Aliases: Da'nae, Dan'ae, Blondie, Little Elf
Gender: Female
Race: Half elf, what elven lineage is unknown
Age: Early 20's? Who knows with elven blood.
Profession: Mortician or Physician, Witch
Affiliations: Factotum of the Sign of One. Dual Chief Medical Officer and Dual Overseer of the House of Healing.
Languages: Common, Elven, minimal orcish and draconic (still learning) have only been heard from her.
Accent: a slight faerunian elven accent. Shes been picking up a little bit of Sigilian now

Physical Information
Height: 4'11"
Weight: never
Body build: buxom and a bit pudgy. She isn't one for physical activity
Skin type: Soft, colder to touch than most mortals.
Hair style: Held up in a bun with loose tresses. Sometimes braided in rows. If ever down, it has a kinky and thick texture, akin to 2c or 3a type hair.
Scars: None visible.. that you know of.
Tattoos: None as of yet
Hair: Very light blonde
Eyes: Iris purple
Skin: Deathly Pallid
Mental Information
Alignment: Lawful Neutral, heavy leanings towards neutral
Philosophy: Death is apart of everything, and it comes for everyone, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't enjoy life. Losing your life is not the worst thing that can happen. The worst thing is to lose your reason for living. Death is just another path, one we all must take.
Sign of One sect philosophy: We are all connected, we all made each other. From one another, living and dead. From the waking world and the realm of dreams. We share and yet are alone all in one breath. The meaning is what you put into the multiverse, and what the multiverse gives back.
Deity/Beliefs: Kelemvor. Sign of One.
   Personality:
Compassionate She tries to sympathize with most entities she encounters, although not always successful
Passionate She approaches most things with an all in fiery attitude and loves what she does
Machiavellian To an extent. Normally coupled with her passion for things and a "the end justifies the means".
Martyr She won't hesitate to be the wounded dog when she believes she has been wronged
Loyal She is loyal to her loved ones and authority figures to a fault
Sense of Humor Loves puns and dark humor
Avoidance When a stressful situation has taken it's toll, she runs. Often uses her humor to escape
Endurance she may not be physically strong, but it takes a lot for this tough nut to crack, emotionally, mentally, or physically before she breaks down
Fierce When moved, she can be a powerful force to be reckoned with. Although it can often lead her to brashness
Additional Information
Gear: A small and very old symbol of Kelemvor. Billowing and comfortable robes, a scarf, a crystaline dagger
Jewelry: She has multiple earring holes in both ears, yet wears none at the moment and a very worn and tarnished ring of unknown metal on her left middle finger. It appears shes very connected to the ring.
Now seeming very attached to her starjewel, a rainbow gem set in silver and platinum vines
Habits/hobbies: Reading, History, the Supernatural. The lute, interested in harps. Little bit of drawing? 
General Health: Not unhealthy, but she is squishy and relies on her own healing
Favorite Drink:She would prefer water, but alas. Sigil isn't the best of places to get it. Shes taken a heavy liking to Ethereal Purple Brew.
Weaknesses: Despite being in the service of Kelemvor and on her way to Doomguide, she absolutely abhors undead that has been dead a while, vampires and ghosts do not horrify her. Particularly Zombies, Ghasts, and Wights.
Danae is vulnerable to spirits attaching themselves to her, as most are drawn by her empathetic and hypersensitive nature. Because she is so vulnerable, it could lead to annoyances, attached spirits, or in very extreme situations, even possession.
Misc. Traits: Danae is an empath, and sees auras. RP to find out more for these abilities
Spouse: Factor Argent Tsukito

Pulvis et umbra sumus

[*witchinghour]

The small girlÂ’s hand hung limp in Mother AgarÂ’s own as they stood around the freshly dug grave, the coffin lowered in by a large older man and dwarf. Mother Agar side glanced at the child worrisome as the coffin finally hit the ground, six feet down. Her heart lurched out to the girl with a tight squeeze of her hand, and not letting go as High Priest Gren began to read off the last part of the funeral rite and closing prayer.

For the first time, in what seemed to be eons, She did not pray. Hells she didn't want to listen. This had been one of the most perturbing funerals in all her life as a priestess. All that clouded the priestessÂ’s mind was the horrible manner of which the man was found. No less than a week after the elven man arrived with his dead wife and child in tow, he had hung himself from a rafter in his and daughterÂ’s assigned sleeping quarters. Mother Agar could still hear the girlÂ’s screams that jolted her out of sleep a few days agoÂ’s morning.

As the final prayer had concluded, both Mother Agar and the small girl stood hand in hand still, utterly silent as dirt was shoveled over the plain coffin until it was completely submerged and the remaining clergy left for the temple.

“It's time to go my little one.” The priestess had tugged gently at the girl’s hand, trying to make the girl understand what she meant.
“Ro uma il- merna amin a' kela” the girl responded and clung to the priestess’s skirts in a desperate embrace. Mother Agar fell to her knees and took the child into her arms, perhaps one of the most warm hugs the child felt in the past two weeks. The priestess cradled the child and began to rock back and forth comfortingly, beginning to hum a childhood lullaby as the child began to weep into the priestess’s shoulder.

[*witchinghour]

A faint whistle echoed off the walls of what was only a large expanse of glittering black. It was familiar and yet so distant. A long forgotten memory that had been buried with all intent for it to never resurface. The soft melody rang again, begging for the sleepingÂ’s attentions with the bittersweet pang of feeling it brought so many years ago. The sleeping stood there, watching the world change and twist into the halls of her home, placing her right outside the door she's known all her life.



The echo bounced and bounded from the dense stone walls, beckoning her further with a longing touch of her chin. Naked feet moved in a dreary step along the elongating hallway with a dampened pippap of flesh hitting carven rock. The song always out of touch as it continued its longing loop. The sleeper grew panicked, picking up resounding pace, trying to capture the dear melody before she lost it again.

The halls melted away before her hurried feet, abandoning her in the center of a massive cemetery. The whistling ceased, leaving nothing but the fondness the spirits felt for her there. It was like greeting an old friend. An odd solace took over the night time sky as the cemetery stood still around ancient willows swaying in the cool breeze drawing a sigh from her lips. The overwhelming urge of nostalgia tugged at her ankles, threatening to consume her as she looked around for the beloved melody.



The sound rang from her left, beckoning the dreamer ever over to the youngest willow, hanging wearily over two graves illuminated with a ghostly light. Two graves she knew too well, but with two people she hardly knew compared, but there they stood. Smiling.

Danae~ Â…. Danae.

The familiar voice beckoned the dreamer from behind her, shaking her out of sleep. There was never anyone calling her.

[*witchinghour]

Signings of a Signer; Danae's activities

A collection of deeds and reflections. The path expanding out beneath one's feet in a smoggy city's street. She turned down this corner months ago into the undiscovered, but known.




-----
\\Linking for the sake of organization.

[*witchinghour]

Impact in Ten!

Melethkanara was driving down to ram into a five ton Deathspider near realm space. The grappling claws screeched across the ship as they came to an abrupt halt.
...
...
Upon the enemy vessel emerged a sprayer cannon, washing their view in flames as Vash raced to back up before totally consumed. Danae aiming a bombardment spell through Mel's helm at the spraying cannon to crush and cause malfunction. The fumes taking the place of the fiery outlook. The enemy ship facing the collateral damage of a gaping hole and fiery gas.

One such creature emerge out a hatch! Clicking its stick legs as its neck flailed around on fire until utterly perishing.

They were at their mercy. And there was no mercy. Captain Vashtalla ramped their impending speed to ram into the ship again as Danae fired off another Bombardment, the rocks crashing into the ship as their final blow came flying in.

The ship suddenly becomes sitting duck, no propulsion system waiting for inevitable. They ram, their all vessel shuddering before bursting through it, the spider ship breaking into pieces. Three to be exact.

As they sweep around dipped on wing curving around to survey the wreckage. There appears to be three remaining crew members. One wrapped around the grappling hooks of its ship, Course they do not hear the noise other then creaking of metal.

Anthriel Luthias:*Sly tone* Like to finish them off Danae? Easy pickings. They long forfeit the right for any help.
Danae Gren:*She seemed to almost give a pitying look melding with no remorse. How oxymoronic.* No one is going to come for them, leaving them will be picking off enough.
Danae Gren: Unless you'd like to set them on fire. *she tilted her head, eyebrows going up in a matching sly way as his tone had been.*
Anthriel Luthias: Fire makes the best purifier. Do it!
Danae Gren: Well alright. They are awfully spider like. You know what they say to do with spiders. *A slight and crooked grin at the elf before she would cast three single target Inferno spells on the beserking spider.. things...*

Anthriel Luthias: they wouldn't be feeding any hapless people to their deathmachines today.

It was as if mini fireworks began to spark at the realmspace's properties took effect as the elven ship sped away.

All just a beginning as they made their way back to Toril, to Danae's temple and home.

[*witchinghour]

"I hope you're alright."

Early before peak. The two signers had run out of bread. They could just believe in more, but Danae rather believe in the Greenhouse's bakery getting more business. Which she happily provides. Wrapping the long, red, and scaly cloak Argent had gotten her like a scarf; she headed on out to the Lower Ward. Always taking the long way, always the long way. Its been a turn and a half, maybe two now since flesh was ripped away from bones down that street by The Temple of The Abyss. The memory briefly emerges in her mind every time she passes. Its flitting, but there. It passes even more quickly when she remembers the Greenhouse's scones. The taste could make most unpleasantness drip away.

"Got any cherry scones?" Danae, perhaps a bit excitedly, asked the baker. The lumbering spirit in his obnoxious colors matched the enthusiasm she had as he too, waited.
"Fresh just some hours ago," the baker answered.
"Great, I'll have four and a loaf of sourdough," out she fished the greens. "Have a good cycle," She chimed as she made her way down the stairs, pushing Mozo's muzzle from the bundle. "Back off, you don't even need to eat," She chuckled. But she baited the spirit with the bundle of baked goods toward the shrine to Obad-hai in one of the alcoves. She gave an end piece to the spirit, whom seemed just content to have it rather than eat it. She then placed a one of the precious cherry scones on the altar, as is customary for respect. Other trinkets and foods from nature lay there as well. She took a deep breath.
"I hope that you accept this offering, Obad-hai. Or atleast hear me now and be kind to check on one of your faithful. As I haven't been able to reach her. Tell her.. Its been a while, Cherry. I hope you're alright."

Mozo nuzzled his muzzled under Danae's left hand, the piece of bread just held by a few teeth. She smoothed out the shining tendrils of energy that made up his 'fur'. "Yes we can go now. And don't you let that bread get moldy in some corner, even though its an offering," She teased the bear.

[*witchinghour]

"From my heart, a view of close friends ~Ulanshio"

"Miss Danae, that pink haired patient left something for you outside the office," The volunteer at the front desk told Danae as she entered the building. "All her works are really quite wonderful, this one is really cute." The nurse chimed with a little giggle. Danae quirking a brow but smiling.

"I suppose shes finally discharged herself now?" Danae asked with some curiosity. Ulan was due to leave when she felt well enough after the surgery and all.

"Indeed so."

Danae nodded, turning to her right to open the door. The stool with a few paint brushes was first to be seen, then the easel and canvas. There was something written on the back panel. Artists still normally sign back there, Danae thought, but it seemed longer like a message. She peeked.

"From my heart, a view of close friends ~Ulanshio"

Danae smiled, it was such a sweet sentiment from a friend who is leaving for some time. Just even that one sentence. She stepped around the easel to peer upon the work of art that Ulan so often does. A soft gasp escaped from her lips when the painted vision was shown.

It was almost a sad giggle Danae gave when her eyes scoured the composition. Though Argent's personalities never really fought too much over her, it captured their emotions and personality vividly. Perhaps Danae could call this one of her few true treasures. It certainly meant quite a deal already with only a few moments looking at it. Danae would miss watching Ulan paint. But she'd miss her friend much more...

~~~~

The painting would be found on a wall within the House of Healing's main office.