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SA | Mary |

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Original Design by sansatine  Thankful


Mary


You stabbed the devil in the back.



A6b4bffc19007a5a269e7a047ea2952a by MusicalMagpie   9a83454595392f3bcad49ff004e5cc37 by MusicalMagpie   746556b56a73865e0d7c4eaf8373bd50 by MusicalMagpie   0d776b7f7f02e4ca06918270226f9a0d by MusicalMagpie



General

Name:  Mary

Other Names: Bloody Mary

Gender: Mare

Age:  39

Breed: QH Unicorn

Height:  15.3

Orientation:  lesbian

Phenotype:  Sooty Blood Bay Tovero

Voice:  Calm and motherly.  When agitated, it takes on an intimidating tone and raspy quality.

Alignment: Chaotic Lawful

Drive: To Protect

Herd: Vagabond, abandoned the Cult of Digend

Rank:  Mercenary



Personality:   | Maternal |  | Gentle |  | Protective |  | Overbearing |  | Coarse |  | Uninhibited |  | Unreasonable |  |  Authoritative|  

Maternal -  Much of Mary's motherly trait comes from before the Cult.  She is deeply protective of youngsters almost to the point of violence toward a threat.  This extends to animals.  Lost fawns can find comfort in the mare's presence until the doe arrives.  Despite this trait, Mary has no intention of having a child of her own.

Gentle -  A trait only displayed to the young or innocent.  Underneath her cold exterior is a warm heart, so desperately clung onto during her time in the Cult.  When not on a job, her interactions with others are typically kind.  Unless she once chased you as a Disciple, it would be hard to guess she was ever part of the Cult.

Protective -  Mary holds her friends close, for a number of reasons.  Even if you are capable of fighting, if you falter for a moment and she likes you, you can expect help in the form of an angry Mom.  This extends to general well-being.  While Mary does not travel as part of a group, she has an excellent memory.  If the next time you meet you're looking down, she'll ask what is wrong and try to help. 

Overbearing -  Mary does everything she can to keep those she protects safe.  She's going to make sure you're okay even it it's just a scrape.  She'll walk you home after school if you mention someone was bothering you.  

Coarse -  A gentle voice can only do so much.  Mary's words can be harsh and she's very blunt.  Life with the Cult hasn't helped much when it comes to positive social interaction, but she tries.  Mary will attempt to apologize for any comments she deems rude after saying them.

Uninhibited -  Both verbally and physically.  Verbally, Mary says what she thinks and it isn't always nice, even though she doesn't always mean it.  Physically, Mary is prone to react with violence.  Unexpected or unwanted touching is met with kicking and biting and maybe a bit of yelling.  She will also likely attack any Cultist she recognizes on sight.

Unreasonable -  If you've managed to get in a bad spot with Mary, don't try to talk your way out.  It won't work.  She sets her mind to things and she sets it hard.  A bad idea is an idea no less and an enemy made is an enemy for life.  Her one track mind can leave others she is working with in trouble which then pushes her over as she'll go back to help.  Just... try to keep up.

Authoritative - Keep Up and Listen.  Mary doesn't ask, she tells.  She's caring, but unknowingly unsympathetic.  A byproduct of her parent's cold turn.  She won't understand why you can't do something, just that you somehow won't do it.



History:

Childhood

The story preceding her birth is largely unknown, as is much of a vagabond’s wandering.  The product of the pairing of two bards was a small, but sturdy filly, red as the blood her mother shed during the birth.  Twin bumps on either cheek  followed right in line with her parentage.  

Early life would prove largely uneventful, but not without excitement.  The filly was constantly enraptured by the tales spun by her parents.  Stories of creation, life, and love.  The world was painted a beautiful place and the red child would hold it as such.  The green meadow they called home was a perfect place to tell these stories.  In the spring the grass and flowers would burst into life after a long winter hiding beneath blankets of snow.  Deer would greet the family, unafraid of the cheerful bunch.  Life was beautiful and life was perfect.

This bliss vision of the world, with it a healthy respect and fear would not last for long.  It wasn’t long before a cultist lulled the red child’s parents into a daze.  Their poison tongue however, did not reach the child’s ears.  The cultists had changed her parents.  They were once captivated by the beauty of life, but now longed to hold within their eyes the destruction of it.  The child dared to speak out.  “Mother, you will bring floods with your words.”  A mother once so loving had no mercy on the girl.  She never mentioned her old teachings again to her parents.

Teen - Young Adult

 As hellish as life was in the cult, it could have been worse.  The red filly’s parents didn’t do much in terms of violence, but instead exercised their powers of speech to gain followers and preach the word of chaos.  She was however, taken in as an apprentice by another Disciple.  The twin horns that had finally sprouted from either cheek had taken on a wicked shape, a shape they saw fit for killing.  

 She was never given a weapon.  Her teacher saw the blades on her cheeks to be useful enough.  Her stout frame made close-combat tolerable.  Able to be closer to large targets which was necessary if she wanted to cause real harm.  By 12, the red child fought like a bear.  She was hard to knock over and could bite like a snake, add onto that, her horns could cut through some of the toughest hide.  Her proving was at 13.  She couldn’t remember if she ever had a name to begin with and it unnerved her to think her parents had been tainted from the start.  

  For her proving the unicorn was pitted against a wolf, what seemed to be a common sight at these events.  The brawl started off one sided.  The red one doing all she could to keep from being torn apart by the angry animal.  She thought of the early days, when things were peaceful and animals were kind, and it kept her from fighting back.  It was only until she gazed through the thicket at her parents.  Their eyes had changed.  They looked as if they already accepted their one child was dead and had moved on.  And it brought a fury on the filly like she'd never had before.  A ragged scream ripped from the stocky unicorn as she closed her jaws on the scruff of the wolf and like a dog with a chew toy, shook her head from side to side.  The child and wolf's screams melded together as the body was lifted from the ground.  Her teeth had ripped past the scruff and her horns had drawn seeping lines over the body.  The blood that covered the white of her face could hardly be distinguished from the rest of her coat.
  
  After she sulked from the poor animal's corpse, her parents approached baring pleased smiles. 
"What is your name?"
  What is your name?  She'd never thought about it much before.  Trying to remember the old tales from the light meadow, the only name that could come to mind was Mary.  It was from a gentle story about a childless mother and her lambs.  
"I am Mary" she spoke with tired conviction through blood soaked teeth.
  And with that, Mary's mother gave a kinder smile.  "Ah, I remember that one."
Mary's eyes had lit up.  She had been in there this entire time.  They still remembered the times in the meadow.  But hope was dashed away again when her mother whispered.
"Will you also kill your lambs?"

  Years would pass, all the same.  Traveling with in a small band whose job was only to kill, her poison-tongued parents had all but disappeared from her life.  Mary was not like the others.  While they would preach Digend's word while slowly tearing a victim apart, the red unicorn was silent and made quick work of the job.  It wasn't something she delighted in, but it kept her busy.  

  In her 30th year Mary found an open field of flowers during a solo excursion.  The smell brought her back to her youth and time before the cultists.  She saw what she could only make out as a walking beam of light.  A unicorn, gold as the sun's rays, danced about among the daisies.  It was a sight that made the red mare tear up, something she hadn't done in so long.
"Why do you cry?"
The golden unicorn's voice was infinitely soothing.  It was a simple question.  Why did she cry?  The better part of her young life was snatched away at its most important time.  She clung so desperately to warmth when her parents turned cold that she found comfort in the warmth of blood.  Everything about what she had done felt wrong, but it was how she lived.  And she didn't want it anymore.  
  She would return to this field time and time again to see the mare named Daisy.  Her time spent with Daisy began to rival that spent with the Disciples and it was starting to draw attention.  Mary was happiest when she was in the field with Daisy in the early morning or afternoon.  All association with the cult was lost each time she crossed the treeline to their meeting place.  Life was returning to her in the most unexpected way.

Recent

  Seven years into these secret meetings, Mary abandoned the cult.  There were no goodbyes to be had, she just never met up with the gang of Disciples for a few weeks.  Finally free, she would make her way back to the field she knew and the golden unicorn she loved.  Arriving, the air was not the same.  In the middle of the field laid a motionless gold and red lump.  Fire billowed from her soul as a scream split the sky above the clearing.  She should have known better.  The cult always found a way to take her back by stealing something away first.  Surrounding the body was the group of Disciples she had traveled with, each wearing a wicked stare.  There was no coming back, they were going to kill her too.  For the first time in over a decade the red mare ran away from trouble.  She ran for her life

  This was final nail in the coffin.  Mary had effectively been ostracized from the cult and was now a hunted figure.  The hunt would continue for nearly three weeks before, tired, Mary fought back. (wow grammar?)  For three weeks, she had been chased and for three weeks she had been planning.  During a night when both moons were new and the forest was pitch, she made her move.  The two disciples that followed her had split up in the dark.  For as blinding as rage is, it makes for excellent night vision.  The red mare was hyper aware of every step and breath taken.  The encounter with each was short, but bloody.  Throats slit by sharpened horns, the disciples were displayed gruesomely below an old oak in a bed of wild daisies.

  Following the killing, Mary would visit the field of flowers one last time.  Her hunters dispatched, she could at last say goodbye to her love.  Something was wrong with the bones that still laid in the flowers.  It was a small skeleton, devoid of any of the citrine that made up Daisy's horns.  The body that laid before her was that of a deer.  She had been fooled.  Some illusion magic had been used to trick the mare.  Daisy couldn't be dead.  Someone had taken her away.  Rage boiled up in the red mare and came out as an explosive scream.  She cursed the Cult, her words like fire.  The blood from her bitten tongue burned like lava.  She was going to kill them.  

She was going to kill them all


Relationship Status:  GF is missing and she is PISSED


Skills: Killing, wow

Blessing: Force Fields

Talents: Weapons Master

Items: 

Iron Short Sword, Iron Dagger, Six Throwing Knives, Ignacio Prayer Idol



Notes:

  • Mary is mostly done with gods... ignacio is on thin ice

  • Screams/Yells a lot

  • Just wants to find Daisy

  • Has escaped the Cult twice now and is so fucking done with them

  • Numerous scars, if drawn none have to be exact.  generally a rough face

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sansatine's avatar
MARRRRYYYYYYYYYYYY