RPGDanse Mors
God of Death
a character in “Apocalypse Over Coffee”, as played by CrashMe
Last seen at: A small coffee shop on Earth.
Groups
Description
Begrudgingly, Danse agreed to submit his form into human shape. Once an intimidating figure of doom, Danse appeared to humans as a great darkness; cloaked in shadow and carrying a large scythe. However, on this plane he chose to appear as a common boy, wiry and slouched over. Black hair, swept over an eye, draws jagged shadows over his face. Heavy black lines frame the only visible eye, staring out in a mixture of awe and apathy. His clothes are uniformly dramatic. Today he chose to wear a black t-shirt of some inscrutable metal band only he has heard of topped with a thick, gray and black striped scarf. Skinny jeans and checkered converse, he makes a typical representation of his favorite subculture. Piercings punctuate his pale lip, an eyebrow and a string of silver down his ear lobes. On his right hand, he wears a leather cuff with a silver skull.
Personality
Danse frequently comes off as pretentious, unintentionally, with his fascination with nihilism and periods of brooding melancholy. Underneath, he is quite amazed and disgusted by his own amazement at Life; his natural opposite. The gradual shift in his opinion of mankind is unsettling to one of absolute resolution. He has become more indecisive, irritable and antagonistic about the human race and becomes irrational if his harrowing contradictions are pointed out. Almost impossible to talk to, he blends in perfectly with angst-ridden teens. Yet his deep compassion for those who suffer brings an almost-fatherly aspect of his nature.
Equipment
He carries with him an iPod with ridiculously over-sized headphones around his neck, a book on nihilism and a composition notebook in which to doodle bad poetry and significant song lyrics
History
Death is inevitable for all Things. He has always been and always will be; the only constant. One usually assumes Death to be a bad guy. However, his own opinion is quite the opposite. From the beginning of the first universe, he often sided with the chaotic gods, believing they were merely bringing out innate properties in human nature, not adding to them. He was proven right by the continuation of the destruction and chaos in the second universe. He was quite willing to claim all the fallen for himself and end the entire process once and for all. Death does not gain by Life but his motives weren’t entirely without compassion. Death comes for everyone; young and old, good and bad. At times, he was seen as a relief and took joy in coming for those in great pain and sorrow. He felt for the suffering of humans and believed their unfortunate natures were tragic and continuing to “fix it” only perpetuated their despair. However as he walks among the living for the first time, breathing, heart beating, he finds his opinions muddled and confused by the human condition.
Danse Mors's Story
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Danse Mors test
Danse Mors looked back at Cassius for some support, hoping in vain that she recovered herself. Instead he got a blank stare; one of introspection. Maisie was struck down as well. He sighed. It seemed like everyone he touched came down with that same blank stare. Danse could hardly be blamed. The end always seemed to cause others to look back. He snapped his fingers quickly, searching for the barista. He needed another jolt to his system. His outbursts were leaving him exhausted. "Oy!" he said. Yet she was nowhere to be found. He left the others to hunt down caffeine.
Danse Mors hears his name from the back of the store and with a moment of heavy silence, rolls his eyes. The tone was unmistakable. In all of Creation, every human being possessed the same tone, usually followed by a tirade; an anthem of the oppressed. He took his sweet time, abandoning his efforts for sustenance and instead, opting for a moment with his own thoughts. Danse forgot how stifling it was in such close proximity with his kind. So much activity and tension as if they could not come together without tremendous force and equal repulsion. He walked back into the room, dragging his feet just to hear the sound of scraping rubber against wood. And there was Quagmire, obviously livid, prepared to give Danse a “what for”. If Death were ambitious, he would have a catalogue of “what fors”. Not only did humans plead for their lives or barter but they yelled at him. They yelled at him for what was natural. If he thought that would change once he put on a skin sack, it didn’t. Even as a human, he was yelled at. Not because he simply took a life that was ending but because he was “creepy” and “kept to himself”. Everything he did seemed to antagonize others. So if Quagmire expected a shudder of obedience or shock, he would never get it. He dragged himself up to Quagmire and looked down, breaking apart the barrier of personal space. “Let me guess,” he snarled, “You don’t agree?”
Danse Mors laughed with such force that he felt as if his host was splitting at the seams. He threw his head back, clutching his side, unable to contain the uncontrollable and joyous absurdity of it all. With a strange delight in his step, he swept over to Maisie, keeping his eye on Quagmire. In their true form and being, Infinitous had always mildly impressed Death but in this host, he couldn’t only help but be amused. The true architect of the universe was sputtering like a common mad scientist. “Why don’t I?” he said, hoping to break the spell that both Maisie and Cassius were under. “You’re right you know. I can’t really kill a god but you don’t seem to realize, Quack-I mean Quagmire, that I don’t really kill anything. I’m not the god of killing, murder, disease or whatever suitable deity that actually puts the little trembly things in my hands!” He knelt down to inhabit the same level as Maisie, speaking close to her ear. “I’ve never told anyone this…”he said, more to Maisie than Quagmire, “but Fortune has given me a lot of business over the years. When Fortune does not favor, those little trembly things fall at my feet,” he turns to Quagmire, to include him in his point, venom dripping in his tone, “I claim these little infants and guide them to the great abyss, heaven, hell and every other name they have for it. I take them from a place of being to a place of unbeing. I suppose it’s easy to misunderstand the great art that is Me… but no, I can’t bring a god to the place of unbeing…” he laughs again, but mournfully. He shakes his head, overcome in grief. “I give comfort from immortality but we don’t get that comfort, do we?” he snaps bitterly, tone rising along with his uneven temper, “Or a cage! How about that?! Isn’t that what we do with our own kind? Why don’t I stick our little Goddess inside a cage because I just don’t like her!” He charges towards Quagmire as if to attack, teeth clenched together in a brief moment of rage but the moment dissi
Danse Mors dissipates before he reaches him. “You have no idea what I am or what I’m capable of. I am not a being to be compartmentalized and disrespected simply because you can’t possibly understand what it is that I do!”
Danse Mors looks down, holding himself with a sense of righteous insecurity. His mood tempers at the sound of someone understanding him. "I vote we do pull the plug... If the other gods insist on excusing the flaws in their own creation, how can we have an honest discussion? The chaos gods did NOTHING to those pests that they wouldn't have done anyway... To punish our own kind..." he scoffs with such disgust and anguish that one might see it as sympathy for his brethren. "It's unforgivable..."
Danse Mors nods in agreement, taking a seat facing Cassius to appear, somewhat, like a united front. It was two against two and Danse wondered how humanity would feel, knowing that the fate of their existence lay in the hands of a quiet librarian and a mad scientist... "This has become about our sins as well... not just your pet project."
Danse Mors was almost surprised by Maisie's audacity as he met her gaze. He raised a brow at her, studying her words with great care. He hadn't a clue how to respond and that singular fact disturbed him. She was right and whether she had the courage to keep to her conviction or not didn't matter. She was right and if she knew what of the others? He had always felt sorry for human suffering and gladly returned them to a place of absence. More often than not, the souls that reached the end of their life needed his help to cross over. They looked to him with a fondness that a child gives to their parent and he smiled on them. They understood. And more than anything, Danse wanted to protect them; protect them from themselves and the gods that believed they knew best. How could he do that if the fragile little souls were constantly pushed back into being, born again and molded to a world that existed only to exploit them? Extinction, oblivion was the only way to protect his favored. “Think about what you’re saying. Does a human being sympathize with a spider or do they swat it once the little bugger starts creeping into their homes? You ask me if I sympathize with a glorified insect? Ha! If human beings truly have no source in me then why would I want them around? You don’t make a good case for them…” He hung his head low, disconnecting from Maisie’s uncomfortable gaze. Instinctively, he held himself, feeling utterly exposed by her declaration.
Danse Mors banged his fist on the table. He banged it again just to make his point. Tragically, he had no point. The most frustrating part of Maisie’s argument was that he actually agreed with her. It was infuriating! He was so absolute in his agenda but he could not help the tiny idea that welled inside his throat. When his host came to him and pleaded for his life, admitted his mistake in casting away his existence, Death he was offended, insulted! He would have extinguished him right then and there if he didn’t need a vessel to make his way to the damn coffee shop. So he gave the boy a riddle to solve and if he did, he’d return to his body. So far, no one won. That was the point of death. But he had his vessel and it was as excruciating as the void and yet full of life. Danse had never experienced life. Immortality was like a stasis; a perpetual state of merely being. The humans flitted from one state to another but as they lived, they lived beyond measure. The way music sounded in his ear, the way food tasted in his mouth, all the emotional responses in his body when he interacted with others. It was an explosion similar to the one he felt when he became Death. It was all so new and fragile. But he couldn’t deter. Death was absolute. What he was doing was right; he needed to remind himself of that. Yet his human heart fluttered in panic. In shame at his own betrayal, he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came. He couldn’t trust himself. Whether it was his own experience or an echo of his host, he recalled the mother of this being, stroking his hair and giving him words of comfort. Without thinking, he lightly touched his forehead where she had kissed him. Suddenly, he realized what he had done and looked around the room, terrified at being found out as if his thoughts could be seen. He stormed off, releasing a guttural scream, “Let it all rot!”
startles at Cassius's touch, unused to human affection, even now. "Why did we bother even coming? No one's going to listen. This universe is just an exercise in vanity... And I'm just as bad, Cassius... This shell has got me all confused about my own purpose... I don't know what to do," he says mournfully. He shakes his head, holding back the swelling of grief at his throat. But it was fear that troubled him the most. He had never known fear before.
felt disturbed by the closeness of Cassius, patting her shoulder in an awkward way but pulling away as soon as was polite. Her embrace was so hard and strange. His host's mother was so warm and tender that he could feel her affection for him, right in his skin. It didn't feel that way with Cassius. He wanted to feel sorry for her and in some way he did, but she wasn't acting herself. As Cassius put distance between, Danse felt more at ease. "I know... You're right, we have to end this once and for all. I'm..."he began, unsure of how to bring someone comfort, human or otherwise, "I'm sorry..."
reaches out to her and pauses before he actually makes contact with her skin. "I know, I'm sorry. It's not fair. It's not fair that humanity has taken priority over us. It's not fair that only a select few get to make the decisions about the universe. But you do have purpose and you will show them that,” his hand continues to hover over her shoulder, as if deciding whether or not to risk contact. "I don't know how to make this better, Cassius. I usually extinguish things that are tired of living... I don't know how to help you yet,” He turns away, ill at ease with being in the role as comforter. “If I could release the other chaos gods, I would. The last time they put an end to the universe… I don’t know how to do it this time…” he said with a great, heaving sigh.
Danse Mors Danse almost walked out of the room again at the sight of Justice. Her very energy, like a worker bee, exhausted him. And there was the pen issue. If he could snuff her out, he would have a looooong time ago. However, he had no issue with her ethically but it didn’t suit his needs to ally with her either. As Justice made the comment about the oppression of Cassius and her weight, he had to bite fist hard to keep from laughing. Justice was clearly oblivious to who she was dealing with. “I’m going to sit this one out,” he said, choosing to take a seat. Then suddenly he realized the room full of animals. There seemed to be animals everywhere. The barista looked as if she had noticed but dared not to mention it. She asked for his order and he paused for a moment. “I think I’ve gone insane… oh, black coffee for me and a stale biscuit,” Then he caught sight of Nyama and all was explained. Yet he couldn’t resist, “So nice of you to cater tonight, Nyama. They look delicious,” he grimaced again, unable to quite get a handle on natural facial expressions. He felt somewhat at ease and in control in the presence of more gods. His own problems could easily hide beneath the ensuing arguments.
Danse Mors found himself actually flattered by the term "Reaper-man". He softened towards Jerry but he would watch those adorable cats. He didn't trust anything that cute. “I’m all for getting this meeting under way,” he said, nodding slightly to make his presence visible, “I have a Norwegian death metal concert to get to… I can’t physically pronounce the name but they are apparently “awesome” and “will make my ears bleed” He leaned back in his chair, propping a foot against the table, sipping his coffee. He felt a sense of calm for a moment and he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because it was easy to hide amongst a crowd than be opened up by a few. “Reaper-man,” he muttered under his breath, “Sounds like a cool name for a band,”
moans at the incessant yapping of Justice. “We’re here, aren’t we? Is taking roll necessary at this point? We’ve been here ages. Let’s just get on with it,” he snapped. He leaned his head back, looking at the opposite wall with a quiet notion of just abandoning this body and leaving. He could sense a conflict rising within him and for once in his existence; he wasn’t absolute in his opinion. He was determined, however, to give Cassius her due. It was important to him to make it up to her. He understood suffering. Danse couldn’t stand not being able to end it.
Danse Mors laughed at the sight of Quagmire, stumbling over himself. “If you weren’t such a nerd, I’d agree with you. But since you are, I’d like to add that the gods made humans thus the humans are only as flawed as their creators. It’s not just humans either. Doing it all over is not going to fix the problem. The problem is this incessant need to create than blame our own creation for our own faults,” he said. He paused a moment before continuing, surprising himself at his own point. What was he actually saying? Forgive and forget? No, the room was unbalanced now. The gods that were out of touch with humanity were outnumbered by the gods that actually enjoyed humanity or at least appreciated them. And here Death was, on the fence. He looked to Cassius, trying to remind himself of resolution. The universe was an open sore, it needed to be healed and the only way it could be was by total annihilation. “As shocking as it may be, we aren’t qualified to create. This universe is too wounded to continue and a third universe won’t be any better. I think we all know what we should do,”
Danse Mors leaning back in his chair, head towards the ceiling, he finds himself drawn in a quiet mood. “Not qualified to create?” he says, more to himself than to anyone else, “Look at the art during the Black Death and you can see I created a lot. You couldn’t find a tapestry or woodcutting that didn’t have me in it… Those people appreciated my artistry. No peasant, no king was above me or even each other…” he smiled, going back to a time when he was almost constantly earthbound. “Even the music was better…” he mused, “I had style. Today it’s just depressing. People don’t even talk about me like somehow I’ll forget they’re there. And all the stupid begging and pleading, it’s undignified…” Danse perks up a little, slowly meandering his own consciousness back towards the table. He lowers his head, towards Justice, shaking his head at the little upstart. “Don’t blame Maisie for the plague, if anything she was trying to help ease their pain… Dying is not an easy thing but you wouldn’t know that, would you? If ringing bells or lighting candles give someone comfort, what’s the harm? These fragile little things, life is so hard for them,” he says, lowering his head mournfully, “At least these little superstitions give them a little hope, as fruitless as it is…” Danse looks off into the distance of his own memories, broken only by the suddenly realization that a bird has landed on his shoulder. He blinks at it, unsure as to how to handle a bird touching him. The bird simply blinks back. “Ok, but for only a second,” he relents, “I am Death, not a perch…” At the moment, he resembles an gothic pirate…
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