Marjory MacLellan
Marjory MacLellan
Portrayed By Sophie Turner
Gender Female
Parentage The Morrigan; The Tuatha
Alignment ???
Date of Birth 1997
Age 16
Mission Kill The Wolf
Known Relatives Dead
Significant Other None

With more vengeful passion than she has years and the blood of the powerful Morrigan running through her veins, young Marjory will go to the ends of the earth to hunt and kill the monster who slaughtered her entire family: the Wolf, the mad Titan.

Birth and Rebirth in Blood and Dirt

When the Morrigan felt her desire to affect the world more deeply growing in these modern times and chose a mortal man by the name of Russell MacLellan from the shores of Suffolk, England, to impregnate her, even the oracle did not anticipate how intertwined the fates of her earth-bound bloodlines would become. Then again, perhaps she suspected; she warned this man that their daughter was destined for greatness and war, and would be tempered in blood. When the goddess bestowed the tiny, precious red-headed baby onto him and vanished, he couldn't help but be left with the feeling that he had been touched by something unusual; even something divine and that the child was, in some way, special.

For all this, and the natural grace she bore from the youngest age, Marjory grew up humble and wide-eyed. Her father soon met his future wife Cora, a Canadian on a walking tour of the English countryside — as fate would have it, she was from a small town just miles from Russell's own home-town in faraway Canada. She took to young Marjory as if she were her own, and the feeling was mutual. After some years of travelling back and forth, the budding family settled down in the small town on the coast of Nova Scotia, Canada, where Cora's family had lived for many generations.

There, they married, and were welcomed as full-time residents of the town with the jolly, welcoming arms of small-town Nova Scotians and became instantly surrounded by salt-of-the-earth community and warmth. Marjory's aging grandparents moved in with them, and aunts, uncles and cousins from both sides were never far. Marjory was just coming out of the years of being a bright-eyed toddler then, and was becoming a bright-eyed, active and wholesome child ready to explore at an age when one year felt like a whole lifetime of experience. She was seasoned by colourful teachings from this young and eager age, growing up in a magical world richly entrenched in her Celtic ancestry, of traditions, where her family told her a great many stories about heroes and history, of adventures at sea and through traditional song. Her grandfather told her tales of the faerie folk and how to find them just as seriously as he'd speak of the ways of the creatures in the forest and the neighbours next-door, while her grandmother mumbled of spirits in the old Gaelic tongue before dutifully attending church.

It was a place where time had touched but did not change.

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Even Marjory's vivid imagination didn't need to stretch to see her surroundings as magical: the emerald green land, lush and rugged mountains and beaches shaped by the all-powerful waves of the sea. Not every neighbourhood is a quick run away from the cliff that falls away into the water's edge, surrounded by the pure salt air and occasional raging winds off the Atlantic ocean. While her father was working hard during the days at the fishing job he'd taken up, and her step-mother busy in the house, she'd go on great adventures, pretending she was a hero in a story or a great magical beast, gaining many a scraped knee but never minding. She was fascinated by books of mythology and history, drawn to those old tales of war and valor and impossible feats. She embraced her potent blood with aplomb before even knowing she was a daughter of a goddess, but she was still a little girl.

One day, her bloodline caught up with her.

A monster from a story made its way to her town; it crept around her house at night. Except this monster was worse than every beast in the stories, because there was no hero to cut it down, and it had the face of a man — a face that would haunt her nightmares and drive her onward for years to come.

As she tried to hide, a frightened, confused child of eight years, the terrifying Titan hurt her, and took her away from her house and family, where he dug a hole in the ground and buried her as she cried.

When she dug her way out, she discovered that her family had been slaughtered.

She was reborn that day in violence, her grief matching the vengeful rage that grew even in her child's heart. The strengths from her divine parentage rushed forth, powers she did not know of yet could feel swelling inside her. The mortal world had other plans. While her extended family were immediately there to hold and flood her with love, her aunts and uncles were old, or dying young, and as much as they tried to take her in, they could not, and Marjory was dragged away from her bloodied home-town and everything she knew, buffeted from foster home to foster home, town to city. The soft and innocent girl became hardened and intolerable of every family she was placed with; even the nice ones. The worst of them got retaliation. She was caught in a cycle of running away and being lassoed back until she escaped for good.

By then, she'd started researching the monster who killed her family and discovered that she had powers beyond the norm. A mother beyond the norm. She was special. She would be a warrior. She embraced it in full, finding her way in the world of demigods and living myth.

A girl alone in the wilderness and cities alike, she travelled. She learned, and found a name for her monster: The Wolf. She honed her skills. She hunted.

She's going to find him, some day. She's going to kill him.

The Hunt for the Hunter


Marjory's travels have taken her in and out of Toronto in the past, and now she's here again, living as well as she can with hardly any money to her name, tracking murders.

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Daughter of the Morrigan

Eyes and Heart of a Warrior

Visions of Violence Past Walk A Mile on the Battlefield
Marjory has an intense connection to places where battles have been fought and extreme human, or divine, violence has taken place, especially in which there was a flood of emotion. She can sense when she is extremely close to such a landmark, but has no way of determining its cause or nature that way; it is only when she finds the precise, strongest spot and opens herself up to the past that she is swept into a hyper-realistic vision of the event itself, as if standing in the midst as an observer. The experience does not last long, a few minutes, at most. She gains a rush of energy and confidence from scenes of epic battlefields and victory, and can even handle the brutality of war in the heat of battle, but scenes that express the dark nature of humanity and cause her to witness harsh and twisted acts of violence take a mental toll on the girl's psyche. She often gets faint and withdraws or even suffers small breakdowns afterward. As an extension of her main power, and more rarely experienced, Marjory can see through the point-of-view of past figures and even begin to feel what they felt, when she encounters certain circumstances; stepping into their exact footprints or shoes, holding a weapon that has been used in a legendary battle or intense scene of violence.
A Will for Weapons Mind, Mythos & Musing
Marjory has a natural aptitude for weaponry of nearly any kind. She likes weapons, they like her; she has a kind of kinship with them. It's not exactly a supernatural power, but may speak to the Morrigan's power running through her. She learns how to use them quickly (as long as she can physically wield them), and has a slick instinct for how to attack. But she's always learning and training to be better. She has even fashioned her own favourite weapon out of several. Through her research and travels, tracking the Wolf, encountering and learning from various figures, Marjory has gained quite a bit of mythology information (as well as street-smarts). Nothing compared to her elders — there are still large gaps in her knowledge — but she has the mind for information, and a thirst for it (which, when it comes to her target, is obsessive). She's retained the vivid imagination of a child and visualizes her goals and whatever story strikes her fancy on a regular basis; without it, she would probably fall into darkness. She loves that myth is real, but hates one sole figure in it. She is constantly, unstoppably imagining and her mind fuels her along with her vengeance.

Faces Along the Road

Marjory has never considered herself, since she was a small child, to have friends. She has contacts.



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Marjory keeps a well-used notebook describing every single detail she's learned about The Wolf, marked for rumour, fact, and theory. It's only matched by her collection of newspaper clippings and print-outs referring to murders she believes he has committed. She has several forms of digital back-up copies.


She keeps all of her belongings compact and ready to be mobile at a moment's notice. She is very nearly always armed.

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