(Archive) Mercy

*"Do you know why they call me Mercy?*
*It's what you'll be begging for when I'm done with you ~ ♥"*

## Background

Most children are the product of love. Nocticula's children are not.

Mercy is the product of a brutal ritual orgy that culminated into the death of her father; an up-and-coming cambion demon who thought he could usurp some amount of power from Nocticula's realm. Left to gestate at the heart of the island created from her father's essence upon his death, many thought Nocticula had abandoned the child. This was not the case and after exactly six months and one day, Nocticula returned to whisk the now fully grown daughter to the House of Silken Shadows.

While undoubtedly beautiful, there was something off about Mercy and in most ways she paled in comparison to her sisters within the House of Silken Shadows. Mercy's magic was channeled through song and dance, and barely a scrap of it resembled the inherent magic of succubi. This disconnect left many questioning if Mercy should be considered a succubi at all or if she was some entirely different bastard child. Most thoughts on the matter were only echoed in hushed corners, as no one wanted to earn the ire of Nocticula who seemed to have taken a special interest in the girl.

What Nocticula saw that others couldn't was the simple fact that Mercy was impossible. Mercy was, for all intents and purposes, a demon whose soul was not one with her flesh. It rattled around inside her like a common mortal's, and in this Nocticula saw promise. Mercy could be exactly what she needed in order to establish a strong and lasting foothold on the Material Plane; an unbanishable agent to unite her scattered cultists.

Nocticula saw to it that Mercy's time in the House of Silken Shadows was well spent. Decades of tutelage under master seducers, manipulators, and zealots left its mark on her, twisting the pseudo-succubus into a perfect minion for her mother's ends.

## Appearance

Written by Labrat

Gleaming, stiletto heels cap dainty feet that forge the way for long, athletic legs. Lacy stockings wreathed in bows and buckles squeeze at muscular calves and thick thighs that bloom into hips that would make a broodmother envious. Such a figure makes wearing anything but her signature bodysuits a pipe dream, and pairs perfectly with the plush, doughy rear that bounces and jiggles with every step. A scandalously thin strip of fabric swallowed by plump cheeks pops triumphantly up to ascend a trim torso, shrouding (almost) every inch in a silken caress.

A comparatively pencil thin waist with its slight hint of muscle leads many to wonder just where she keeps her innards. Most who speculate believe the answer is found in her heaving, bountiful bust that barely stays bound by the clutching confines of a spidersilk bodysuit. Indeed, it seems she aims to leave as little to the imagination as possible while still truly baring nothing. Slim shoulders and a petite neck as porcelain and blemishless as all the rest of her are wrapped in that same spidersilk, though a steel ring is set into the throat as though waiting for the proper leash.

Cupid's bow lips stained a luscious rouge curl up in a coy smile below a button nose. A dreamy, delighted gaze lounges in her softly glowing blue eyes to match an eternally relaxed expression. From her crown erupts impossibly long periwinkle locks nearly brushing her knees when not bound up in intricate styles. Were her features were so unadorned, she would look like a mere breathtaking mortal beauty. Instead, she has been graced with demonic heritage of the most blatant degree.

From beneath her painstakingly kept hair sprout twin spires of ebon horn that jut aggressively skyward. Slender, leathery bat wings stretch from each shoulder blade adorned by a gleaming steel spike upon the apex of each. Equally brutal metal spikes tip each finger in a wicked claw and scale the length of her tail from plated base to spaded tip.

On the whole, Mercy looks like a master sculptor's magnum opus of a succubus so beautiful as to make her more mundane sisters look like common streetwalkers. That is, if said sculptor had a fascination in overflowingly lewd depictions.

## Personality

Mercy's personality seems to be infused with the chaotic energies of the Abyss. She's jumps emotion to emotion, topic to topic, hobby to hobby, and man to man. She forms attachments far too fast, which often pushes people away, and upon facing rejection she's just as likely to kill in a fit of rage as she is to burst into uncontrollable tears.

## Aspirations

Mercy is constantly working towards furthering her mother's reach on the Material Plane through recruitment and uniting the cult under a strong leader. While she fully believes this to be a righteous cause, much of the reason she pushes this goal with such conviction is simply to earn Nocticula's approval.

Contrary to all expectations, Mercy's personal aspirations are simple and wholesome: she longs for love and the tender affections of a man who will treat her right.

## Gallery

Thelgaleth, island of Mercy's gestation. Art by Fabio RodriguesPriestly vestments. Art by ZiyoLingDaydreaming of love. Art by ZiyoLing
## In Fiend's Reach

*This section contains notes of Mercy's canon antics and encounters. Anything here could be considered a rumor easily learned. Please don't hesitate to use anything here as a roleplay hook!*

* Mercy was spat out of a gaping maw of chaos and conjuration right into the waters just off the shore of Fiend's Reach. She was quite unimpressed by the lack of fiends present.