Scroll Seeker

By Magpie

• September 7, 2014

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Species: Unicorn

Appearance: Thin and Lanky, but muscular. Athletic build. Very long purple mane, and tan fur.

Cutie Mark: Cutie Mark of a partially opened scroll with a quill

Personality: Determined to better himself. Generally friendly, but a bit cocky. Can get caught up in his own heroism. Hard to hold down to one place. Wants to see everything the world has to offer, to satiate his curiosity and to make himself even more knowledgeable.

Backstory: Coming from a small village, Scroll Seeker showed a potential for magic at a young age. He came from a small family, an only child. He bonded much closer with his mother, a wizard, than his father, who was rather distant. He studied hard, but in his own way, preferring action.<br /><br /> One fateful day bandits showed up to his village, ransacking the town. Most of the people were spared, thanks to a local veteran, who managed to defend them with his life. He passed later than day, his wounds horrible. Scroll viewed him as a hero, someone to strive towards. He grew to hate those who preyed on the weak. <br /><br />He lived somewhat normal life for a while afterwards, a few romances came and went, nothing too serious. He never devoted himself to a deity, finding the idea ridiculous at the time. His middle-class family could afford to send him to university to study magic and the arcane. Taking with him nothing but his money to survive off of and his scimitar to defend himself, he left his friends and family for the city. <br /><br />After he finished his schooling he set out to learn more secrets of both martial and magical origin. He wanted to make himself strong, to not let himself fall prey to anyone. He worked as a mercenary for several years to fund his adventures. <br /><br />Now, he has earned enough money to leave the city and hopefully adventure full time, for glory, for power, and for riches. His early missions were mostly mundane, not exciting enough for him. But they were reliable and a good source of income. As his spell list increased and his swordplay grew stronger, he became more and more ambitious. He seeked to make his name known. <br /><br />He took a job defending another small village in the area. The village seemed safe, almost boringly so. Until one morning, when he heard a scream. Bandits were approaching, and he recognized their leader. It was the same stallion that had ransacked his village. Filled with fury, he charged forward, swinging wildly. The bandit leader was less than impressed. He quickly knocked Scroll to the ground, and his men took him captive, and he watched as they began to pillage. This enraged him further. Breaking free of their grasp, in a magical frenzy, his horn shone brightly, as his blade became bathed in magical energy. <br /><br />Utilizing all the techniques he had learned, he struck the bandits down, the leader escaping. He had saved the village, but his quest for revenge carried on. He questioned one of the survivors about where the leader had left to. The bandit, terrified, said he was heading into the mountains. Scroll chased after him, through the harsh, snowy terrain. Finally he caught up, outside of the bandit hideout. "So, you want to die that badly?" the chief said. "Fine, Ill finish you off. At least I'll get something out of that village." Scroll lunged at him, and the two were engaged in a sword duel. But Scroll had his magic on his side. Blasting the leader down to the ground, he exacted his revenge at last, wounded, tired, and freezing, but successful at last.<br /><br /> He returned to the village a hero. His recovery took a long time, badly wounded from the fighting. But as he tried to stumble back to his post, he collapsed on the ground, his adrenaline rush running out. He passed out, exhausted. He awoke in a bed, near other wounded. He couldn't walk. His legs were bruised and torn, one broken. His chest was slashed up as well. He lay in bed, wounded, when he heard a sweet, kind voice echoing through the halls. A young woman was coming down the hall, tending to the wounded. It was a small village, he was unlikely to be in any sort of hospital, so when she came by, he asked, "Excuse me, where am I? Last I remember I was heading back to my post." She responded with "I saw you wander into town, wounded! You collapsed, your wounds were horrible! so I took you to the church, with the other wounded. My name is Star. Shooting Star." A church, definitely unexpected. But, he decided he would make the best of the situation. "A church, huh? So, you must be the angel?" His lack of charisma was showing, but she blushed nonetheless. She checked his wounds quickly, and moved on without another comment. <br /><br />Before long, he was strong enough to walk on crutches, at least around the church. Day in, day out, he would hear the prayers to Celestia. He watched as the villagers devoted themselves to a goddess they had never even seen. He began to question why. When Star came by again, he asked about Celestia. She responded with "Celestia is a caring, loving, warm mother to us all. She watches over her little ponies." As the time went on, he began to sit in on the church meetings. He still never quite bought in to all of this, but gained some more respect for it. He would see everypony come, and donate to the church, even the poor. Those who could barely support themselves.<br /><br />He no longer needed the crutches at this point. He was strong enough to head out adventuring once more. He had developed more than a respect for Celestia, becoming even a passive follower of Celestia. He believes in some of her tenets, anyway. Saying goodbye to Star, at least for now, he headed out, searching for new adventures to come.