Sigil: City of Doors

Basic Information
Name: Danielle Alen'danyth (Public Name)
Aliases: Alehs'ielle (House Name)
Gender: Female
Race: Fey'ri - Tanar'ri / Sun Elf
Age: 366 (Mental Age) + 6369 (Stasis -5000 to Hellgate's Fall +1369) = 6735
Profession: Imbuing Specialist \ Tanar'ri Sentry
Languages: Elven, Abyssal, Common, Infernal (Know your enemies well!)
Accent: A thick, harsh variant of an elven accent. (Somewhat Romanian)

Physical Information
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 135 Lbs
Body build: Trained but still curvy. (36-22-36)
Skin type: Tanned, Resilient, and Warm to the Touch
Hair style: Lush and un-tamable
Scars: A small stabwound at the center of her chest, a slice that nearly missed her left eye, marking her brow and cheek slightly, and several stabwounds across her lower body, almost as if made ritually as they appear runic. Those runes would glow red if angered.
Tattoos: House Dlardrageth's Symbol; A black Draco-Pheonix winding and coiled over her left shoulder and upper arm

Colouring:

[b]Hair:[/b] Raven Black [b]Eyes:[/b] Hazel with Orange Speckles [b]Skin:[/b] Coppery Tanned [/li]

Mental Information
Alignment: Chaotic Evil (Harsh ends justify stable means)
Philosophy: "I won't be bound by fate, nor will I be a pawn in another's game. My life is my own; And I'll fight or die to prove it. What better place than here? What better time than now?"
Deity/Beliefs: Xiiltharra Dlargrageth - Founder of House Dlargrageth

Personality:

[u]Hedonistic[/u] [i]You love a good time. You party too much, drink too much, and eat too much. You have trouble resisting an invitation to join someone in a drink and sometimes shirk your duty if offered a more enjoyable time elsewhere. [/i] [u]Merciful[/u] [i]For a villain, you have a terrible weakness--you don't like to hurt people. Given the choice, you'd rather exile your deposed brother to another country than do him in. Whether this is because you want him to live knowing that you beat him, or whteher you just have a small soft spot down in your heart somewhere, the result is the same: your enemies keep coming back again and again. [/i] [u]Battle-ready[/u] [i]Seeks advice on an upcoming duel (or other confrontation) with an old enemy[/i] [u]Cautious[/u] [i]Tries to always have back up plan, and not get killed.[/i] [u]Stubborn[/u] [i]You don't change your mind very often, if at all. Once you've decided on a course of action, you follow through no matter what. Attempts to convince you that you are wrong roll off your back with no effect.[/i] [u]Efficient[/u] [i]Wants to cut to the heart of the matter, resolving it as quickly as possible[/i] [/li]

Additional Information
Gear: An Abyssal Axe is almost always hilted at her side, both very ceremonial and practical, fitting for her position.
Jewelry: N/a
Habbits/hobbies: Enjoys reading, tasting (Food or drink), Magical study, theory, stories from afar.
Favorite Drink: Firewine / Summer Wheat Ale

As Told By Fate
The Black Omen - Zonaria


"The preperations are set then?"
"Indeed, this has been as forseen. all that remains is the sign of the mark."

The countess stared down into the ceremonial hall with a weighted sigh. Chitterings and ghutteral cheers of Abyssal tongues echoed through the hall as a swollen Quessir rests on an alter at the center with her Alu-fiend lover. Her eyes looked to Xaxsus as he'd comfort his elven lover, and Isinyth greeted him in turn with a loving, confident smile in turn.

"And will he ever suspect?"
"That matters little, he's taken moreso from his human seed. He'll raise the child with pride no less, even if he is lesser. She'll survive."

The countess would consider those words a long moment eyeing over the masses of Tanar'ri and Ar-Tel'Quessir. A pleased smirk creased her lips, only to fade into something of a worried frown, eyes falling shut as her wings would lurch outward in a sort of shrug.

"Father, there have been plenty willing in the past.. what makes her different?" She'd ask with skeptical eyes roaming over the elf. A shrill cry would be heard in the midst of the conversation as the elf would start to deliver the child.

"Her soul is mine to read, Sarya, her eyes matched the ones I saw." The balor would reply cooly, looking down to her, observing her body language. "Your undoing is inevitable with all that reign here, but her kin is key, have faith."

Cheering echoes through the hall as the crowd would praise the latest addition to the House. Xaxsus held the child in his hands and raised the newborn for all to see while Isinyth weeped tears of joy. So few willingly submitted to the Dlargrageths mating habits, and even fewer survived the trials of labor.

An almost sad sigh would pass Sarya's lips, before looking up to her father. "She has your eyes." Smirking lightly, before drawing again to sorrow. "A shame I'll never know her..."

A heavy hand rests lightly at Sarya's shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. Anywhere else this sort of behavior would be embaressing for a mighty being such as he, but this was company that no hell could offer; Family. "Seperate yourself, Sarya. Fate would only have it this way."

Sarya would shrug off the contact, turning away from the scene with a knowing nod, silently exiting the overlook to retreat to her chambers. Gorgaroth shrugged his mighty shoulders and peered down. The mark was at the babe's left shoulder, a vague wrapping shape of the grand winged phoenix. The Balor would grin rather smugly, nodding in approval.

"So we begin, Alehs'ielle."

Legend of the Leaping Lady
The Last Relapse - All Shall Perish

Aye, so a passing traveler wishes tah' hear a tale over their pint? Plenty of tales cross around the north, but none such as this one.

Some locals n farmsmen mention that the ghost of a forlorn lass wanders the hillside, a lass rumored tah have been slain, robbed, n murdered by bandits while on her way tah her true lover. Others say she was a witch that tormented the region fer' quite some time! Lurin' in lasses with her looks only tah devour their souls... like a hag would! Some have told that whomever looks to her eyes turn tah stone, but I find that rubbish personally.

Such is all skepticism though, the real dish in the story is that few have followed the ghost on her forlorn trail and stood at the end of the cliff over Chisel Peak... stares fer a while wordlessly out over the valley.. until finally leapin' right off! We get odd cases of this every now n then.. mayhaps once er twice a year, when the ol' Selune shines high with Mystra's stars.

No one really knows 'why', but whatever drives a ghost tah' relive that last die over n over again has tah' be a pain few deserve tah' hold! Whatever the ordeal is, the lass is otherworldly.. elven even, stricken with darkness of some sort.

Only way tah' know, is tah' take a look fer' yer'self.

A Long Way From Home
To All Of You - CKY

The Fey'ri would step into her abode and toss her bag lazily next to the fire, before disarming a few belts and hanging her cloak on the hook nearby, making herself at home as was routine by now. She'd reach to draw a simple looking tome from the bag and splay it on the table nearby, marking an entry hastily, occasionally looking over her shoulder to the emptiness of the house.

..."She came to me again; " -She- would be scribbled out, to be corrected. "It still torments me, and this time in the form of a darkened, crumbling spirit. The more I ponder over the circumstances, the more worried I get. It is healthy to be wary of subjugation, but to what degree of fear? Every time it arrives a chill stiffens my spine, yet my blood boils with rage... Perhaps the sheer idea of what it plans to accomplish. The verse may burn, but I'll be the last to go down if it comes to such ends."

Danielle would blink, looking over those words, watching them, studying their even angry curvature from those hasty scrawled letters. A long sigh drew from her lips, the words made her sick.

"Monster... Did I become? Or was I one all along?"

The tainted elf would shut her eyes and seek council in her memories, reaching to trace the scar along her eye to invoke a fond memory.

---

Those eyes would open to small, dainty hands, holding a crudely stitched doll, thumbs nurturing over the lacy hair and over button eyes. There was an immense love for such a simple, innocent thing. Such was only one of many gifts mother would of brought. Those hands squeeze the cloth being close to hug it warmly to my breast, smothering it adoringly. Shadows dance along the floor; wings bobbing up and down slowly, only to perk at the sound of a reverent voice.

"Alehs (Alice) ! Come in here for dinner!"

Youth would make that hunching posture into a fleeting memory, as a childish jolt of energy sprang my legs to stand, and dash toward the source of that voice, giggling merrily all the way there, and half pounce to Father's leg, hugging it as if life itself depended on it.

Such would earn a hearty fit of laughter from his lips, raising me in his hands to spin me around and draw into a close hug. That warmth.. that sheer joy of simply being there. The father knew love, and the child knew it well. Almost reluctantly he'd set me down, even if I'd bounce slightly in place, brimming with energy. Just then in the chair the confines of my tail is felt, batting away left and right almost like some excited puppy.

"Easy easy, little one! Don't want you falling away now"

Then, those words would of been idle banter.. but recalling...

---

The vision fades as the Fey'ri gasps softly. Tears would well up in her eyes, such innocence, such love, things that once were. Her spirit would wrench and twist, guilt washing over her for the deeds she had done all in that moment... if she "Was" such a loved child, so happy and content... then she had "Become" this monster. Had she fallen away?

"Mama... Papa... What have I done?" She'd murmer out softly, pressing out of her chair to the other to grip and hold a pillow closely, yearning for that stitched dolly, or her father's chest, or her mother's breast.

...And all ceased to be
Desolate Ever After - Peccatum

The young girl jumped from her bed at the sound of a loud crash echoing through the main hall. Her hazey eyes blinked in confusion, attempting to grasp the ruckus, before a call would echo out through the catacomb walls.

"To Arms! They're trying to break though!"

Had the day of reckoning finally come? The tale her mother feared for the worse? The girl's father rushed through kitchen, quickly arming himself in his black chainmail, and wicked fist talons. The girl blinked solemnly, such dress only marked the acts of raids, but the screaming down the causway only made things more unsettling.

"Papa? What's going on?"

He looked to his daughter with equal sorrow, dipping in to press a loving kiss to her forehead. "Stay with mama, alright? I'll be back soon..." He spoke perhaps to reassure her, yet having little faith in such things.


"Hurry, Alice, come with me" Her mother's eyes were in tears as she tried so hard to keep composure, giving her that beloved stitched dolly to perhaps tempt her daughter to follow.

Yet, she was struck, so confused and lost. Her mother would lean in to carry her away, heart racing as she clutched her tightly. The girl's wings fluttered slightly, nervous, as her tail would cling to her mother's arm. She tried hard not to weep, as did her mother, biting into her lip quietly. Pressing down to the main hall, the younger and woman were escorted to a safer exit, while the strong would stand before the hammering gate.

The girl opened her eyes to a thunderous crack, as the heavy keep doors were torn asunder by a brilliant flash of yellow light. A mage had delivered a final blow to those heavy wooden doors, splintering it, as armed elven kind stormed valiantly through the hall, cutting away at all that opposed them. Those young eyes saw hatred, malice in such vindication she'd never even contemplate before, her innocence cut away with every one of her family that was cut down.

"Corellon! Light the way!" An elven man called out, as his staff pointed a blinding beam of light into the cooridor. The stunning light left many exposed to attack, and the girl's eyes witnessed her father falling to the floor with a defeated groan. The man's eyes met his daughter's, as he reached out so longingly toward her, before his shape would crumble into crisping ash, banished by the column of light.

Tears ran freely from the young girls eyes as the scene of battle grew smaller and smaller, her mother holding her tight as she'd run toward the alternate exit. A large group ascended the steps to the surface, a trapdoor hidden well in a rotting oak would be their way out.

The group poured from the stump, stumbling slightly, weeping even, until only a gargled groan would be heard to silence them all. Ponderous eyes looked around for the source, as a younger daemonfey was shot through the chest by a sparkling arrow. The sniper revealed himself, as many others did, approaching their prey like a trained pack of wolves.

"Fire!!" A woman would call a pace away from the group, before arrows would fly through the group, piercing through, cutting down the flock as a scythe through a wheat field. One by one they'd fall, and the girl wailed in pain as several of those shots would pierce her wings, pinning her to her falling mother.

"Alice... I'm... Sorry..." She'd whisper to her daughters ear in a last kiss goodbye. A final arrow would pierce her spine, a pained grasp signaling her end. Few survived the flurry, as only a few pained cries and groans left the pile of dead.

"Gather the survivors, ensure the rest are dead." The maiden would speak in a cold voice, before walking away from the scene. The pack would close in tighter with blades out, sifting through the bodies and slicing the fallen, plucking the survivors and lining them up at knifepoint.

The young girl was stricken with emotion; loss.. shock.. trauma settled in as she could barely keep herself from shaking. "Such is the sins of a father. Be still, little one" A man would call, before slowly drawing his knife, taking a full swing at the girl's pierced wings.

The child screamed as all went black, the last images pouring through her mind as her life flashed before her eyes. Her mother's loving eyes, now cold and gone. Her father's valiant gaze, stricken with fear as he fell away. Even those button eyes of her ragdoll would weep, stained with the blood of her friends and family.

---

"Circle them here. Check the runes, I'll have no mistakes!"

The girls hazy vision would return to her misfortune. The room was black, and her senses were dulled... exhausted from the trials earlier. Was it a dream?; she thought. She hoped so, but any attempt to move was met with staggering pain, as those roots from her wings fluttered helplessly against the air.

At the center, the almighty Sarya was already sent into stasis, as a brilliant beam of blue energy kept her in place. Her face was twisted, defiant even, as her entire was frozen in place, writhing, preserving her struggle for all to see.

The maiden would approach the young girl, cupping her cheek in an almost motherly way, drawing the youth's head up to meet her matron gaze. "Listen not to these heathens; You are alone. Your kind has nothing to be proud of. You're monsters, and you'll be left here to be forgotten and alone for all time."

The Matron stepped back slowly, leaving the girl to her tears. Just as the humbled leader of the house, the girl too, was frozen in place, her grief open for all to see, until the end of time, as she slipped into the confines of her oblivion.

Oblivion's End At Last
Misery's Introduction (Song for the Damned) - All Shall Perish

The chamber had long since been buried by the rubble and chaos on the surface. Generations have come and gone since the Fey'ri and remnants of House Dlardrageth was imprisoned and doomed to be forgotten forever.

Yet fate would have it otherwise. Fate had other plans for these beings...

---

The girls eyes winced as they finally opened, stumbling from her floating cell as its runes collapsed. The sorrow of her loss still prevalent, preserved in that stasis of the arcanic runes. A voice rang slowly, calmly from near, calming even to the young woman.

"Rise little one, there's much to be done."

The girl slowly blinked her eyes, such was a blur, but she could make out a darkly robed figure with gleaming orange eyes. There was confusion as she glanced around.. that chamber she was no more than a moments ago staged in had dusted over, rodents and vermin crept in the corners, chirping and chittering over the scene. Even looking over, the mighty Sarya was still trapped just as she remembered.

"I've done all I can to break these chains that bind you. You must now free your kin and leave this place. Leave this place, and seek out the city of doors.

The girl tried to speak, but no words came from her throat, only a soft whimper, her body almost seeming out of practice... how long had she been out? The darkly robed figure walked away slowly, ascending passed the larger stairs that left the chamber.

A loud 'boom' shook on the surface, as the cries of battle could be heard even from such depth, cannon fire and magical blasts ripped the surface, crumbling loose stones from the ceiling. Quickly, the girl scurried up and tried to walk, yet her haste was met with soreness, stiffness even as she nearly fell, stumbling over herself to gain balance, like a new stag gaining its legs. She glanced quickly to her own runes and studied them close... she knew them, and knew the disruption that granted her freedom, than repeated such with her fellow kin, freeing them one by one, until lastly, Sarya was free from her bindings.

"The Quessir's runes have failed? Hah! We rise again, brothers and sisters, we..."

The House Matron's eyes set along the traumatized young woman, the very same she had been told to keep track of even. Her eyes went soft, and even her wings wavered somewhat at the sight of her sister in secret. What her father had taught her had come to pass exactly as described.

"... Let us take to the surface, brothers and sisters. We claim our place in this world again."

The group scurried from the surface, dodging the fierce taint of combat above, Hellgate's fall was at hand, and the scourge of the Tanari's and Baatezu's battle there would be finally brought to an end.

---

High along a bluff, the darkly figured woman gazed the battle ground as the treants closed in around the field. A Blinding light blasted the tainted land, not causing the witch to flinch in the slightest, almost as if she'd seen a hundred battles of such scale before.

She simply smirked to herself smugly, knowingly even, as she saw a few loose figures take to the sky, taking that as a final cue that her work was done.

The Long March
Vanishing Light - In Flames

"Seek out the City of Doors..."

Those words burned burned in the young woman's mind. It had been millenia since the fall of of her home, yet only a few years since its rise. Existence had come and gone since, and to her, it was only a lapse, a breath, a blink.

A sleep.

Such had happened all so quickly, but with her friends, both new and old, she stabilized and harnessed her innate abilities with vindication, yearning for a child's innocent idea of an existence without such persecution or exile.

"Seek out the City of Doors..."

The figure was cloaked in tattered leathers, only her glowing eyes stood out from the shadows that walked behind, before walking away before time itself could be bothered. The witch would show in her dreams, she looked at the corner of her eye, swearing to see the orange glow of her eyes, only to be met with disappointing silence. Such an enigma, this witch.

Yet her adventures led her away from home, straying her north toward Silverymoon, renown elven territory. It was difficult to sift through patrols, but with some cunning she managed, filing down her horns and allowing her hair to grow, and using heavy robes to keep her tail from sight. She looked like any sun elf ironically. It made her think... If I look so close, what makes me so different from them?

The veil gave her access to archives, libraries even where she was to find information on the Ring. Silverymoon's libraries were renown for their thoroughness, a true jewel of the north, that had yet seen the plague of disease of war directly.

---

"Planning to leave already?" A friendly voice would ask.

"Oh... Well, in truth this was more of a stop along a longer, greater path I walk." She responded with cool, lowering her eyes away from his shyly.

"Journey to the center of existence, Mm? What a thought... You know, I heard a lot of people don't like what they see, once they stare infinity face to face. Makes everything else seem so... bland. He would chuckle merrily, leaning over to skim over the pages she had opened.

"Well, I have a calling that leads me there." She'd afford him a little smile, he was kind enough to deserve it, she thought.

The man brushed in closer to her side, brushing a finger along the edge of her splayed hair curiously. "Truly? I had a calling too, and it led me right here...

She swallowed a breath as he leaned in to press a kiss to her neck, such a feeling was foreign from anyone beyond blood. Her body tensed at first, before melting into the contact, welcoming it, her guard let down for that moment.

A hand insisted his way to brush the hair from her eyes, eager to see her own, but her eyes widened at the realization of this. Her eyes met his, as he stared. Those fingers parted those bangs away to reveal the stub of her filed down horn.

"You... " He murmured, turning to the side to spit away that kiss he'd stolen. "Abomination! Guards! Gua! . .. .

Blood gargled groans silenced the man as he fell slowly to the ground, a blade had sliced clean at his throat by the young woman. Her heart was pounding from her chest, she'd never had to resort to such a thing before, but her cover was blown. Swiftly she gathered the tome and dashed from the library.

---

She didn't have enough time to pack her things, but she was bright enough to prepare an essentials satchel, quickly snatching the bag before sifting through the crowds of the market. The shimmer of the Silverymoon Rainbow-Bridge started to fade, as a deep horn bellowed from the barracks tower. The hunt was on.

There'd been some hints in the tome, something vaguely familiar, but it rushed through her mind as she dashed through the pale countryside. Calvary was already preparing at the gates of the city, while blood packs were assembling with bounty hunters and other specialists.

Those images from the tome flashed through her mind, words piecing together. Ring... anything can be a portal... anything can tear a rift...

She pressed her way up a hill as the sounds of barking canines can be heard behind her, chasing, hunting her down, as mounted sentries followed close for the kill.

The girl made a fatal error in disregarding the slope, finding herself at the edge of a cliff, while the dogs slowed to surround her. A mounted hunter smirked smugly at the sight, going as far as to dismount and slowly approach the woman.

"Well well... murdering monster, you fit the bill quite perfectly. Shame yeh' got such a pretty face there, lass."

The young woman's eyes narrowed at the soldier, edging back slowly toward the edge as the canines growled and barked viciously, only awaiting the order to pounce.

"Yer finished lass! Give it up an..." The hardened hunters eyes widened in bewilderment.

The young woman stared cold with defiant eyes for only a moment, before her patience would end. Those lashes would draw shut, and in a moment there was serenity as she leaped. Falling away from the cliff she plunged to her demise accepting nothing less than death.

Free fall seemed so slow in certain death, yet all was not as it seemed, as an overhang of branches started to glow and spark violently in anticipation to the falling woman, a rift had opened, swallowing the young girl.

---

A ploom of feathers littered the air as she landed, causing her to sift around in complete surprise, finding herself in an endless urban sprawl, a market no less.

"Make the chase, Berk! Or I'll make ya' buy the whole wagons worth! Lousy jumpers, all of ya!

She quickly scurried away from the mouthing merchant, slowly padding out toward the center of the square, surrounded by strange creatures and foreign odors all around. Looking up, she saw the expanse of the structure, the road ahead curved upward, looping around into a magnificent loop in the sky.

"The City of Doors..." She muttered to herself, mixing herself into the passing scrawl.

Setting the Stage
A Dying God Coming Into Human Flesh - Celtic Frost

The witch strode through the hills of the Silver Marches, the cold seeming not to affect her, as her drag cloak did plenty to keep her from the elements. Her orange eyes blinked slow, as all seemed frozen in place, frozen was the soil, frozen was the sky, and even frozen was the sun. Time had ceased as she walked uninterruptedly across the field as if she'd done this time and time again before.

Padding through the streets of Silverymoon, she awaited for the sound, a shout of the chaos to come. Even hearing the call over and over, it had always brought a smirk of approval as it died down to a gargling slur. She watched the younger woman dart out and run down the street, unwaivering by her panic-prone sprint.

Yet the witch was prepared. Sentries came and investigated the library, while the witch slowly padded up to slide an iron bar over the handles, barring them in. Then, within another blink, she was gone again.

Not even changing her frozen pulse, she followed down the street as commotion followed, another set of guards preparing themselves to make chase. Yet the cursed witch would strike again. Only a wave of the hand would ignite a chemist's workbench aflame, the roof exploding into a plume of brilliant blue flame. A necessary casualty.

Frozen was her heart long ago, moving over the icy hills following the younger woman's path, almost as if death chasing to snuff out life itself. There were more canines, but those numbers were thinned when those shadowy hands pointed way toward the alpha, shriveling the once proud creature into a wreck of mangled flesh and bone.

Only a few of those canines would keep on the hunt, the bounty hunter following suit. All was as planned, the young woman was surrounded, but evenly so. It appeared she still had chance.

"Well well... murdering monster, you fit the bill quite perfectly. Shame yeh' got such a pretty face there, lass."

The young woman's eyes narrowed at the soldier, edging back slowly toward the edge as the canines growled and barked viciously, only awaiting the order to pounce.

"Yer finished lass! Give it up an..." The hardened hunter's eyes widened in bewilderment.

The young woman's eyes stayed closed, gasping faintly as a palm was set to her chest, giving her the final push over the edge.

"...A ... Fiend?" Fear widening the hunter's eyes further looking to the vague apparition that was the witch.

"She leaps again." She smirked smugly, before vanishing into the mist of the settling night.