Basic:

Real name: Shena Artemis Tal' esedrin
Alias: Artemis of the Nightshades
Moniker: Oriental Isis, China Doll
Race: Celestial deva Haioth ha Qodesh (order of the heavenly Seraphim as had been mentioned in the bibles) though due to some circumstances she is more appropriately known as an Anino ng Divino (Shadow of the Divine)
Alignment: swings from lawful to chaotic neutral depending on her mood; the ultimate borderline
Gender: Female
Age: looks to be ageless; rumors say she has lived for two centuries though in truth she has lived for longer
Measurements: 90-60-91
Height: 165 cm
Weight: 51 kg
Body Type: trim
Hair: platinum silver
Eyes: right: emerald green - left: amber gold
Skin: tanned
Etceteras:
A black obsidian stone embedded on her forehead and a necklace with an almost identical stone around her neck.
A tattoo of a flame on the back of her neck, hidden by her mass of hair.

Prelude:

Excerpt from the 'Seer of Vel' egard':

And she was doomed, no matter what anyone tried. For the wolf that had bared one's throat to its chosen pack leader must fall with him, or stand against him. She had chosen to fall, for that race which had sheltered her in her need, abandoning her place with her Father in the Heavens for that on earth.

Fallen but not Forgotten.

And so she grew, a child of those free riders from the south. Human she looked, though she touched the divine...was the divine. An army, a country, a queen she had served until times changed around her, abandoning her in eternity.

And the wars between the clans came, Hell's Bloodshed and Quesyrus' brood. To save one sacrificed for a useless, worthless victory she had made a pact; Nightshade his name was, Nightshade he claimed the right. Right but not his own. Renegade he called himself; Warlock; God.

Falling further.

And so the Fetch was born, a shadow of her own self. The Divine, and the Fallen. A touch of Heaven and Earth. Separated and paid for in her own blood and soul. One half to live out eternity in the light of heaven, yet chosen to walk the path of the fallen, the other to live forever in the shadows, reaching but failing. No touch of heaven for but a shadow.

And then the Shadow walked the Earth; and Heaven cried for its birth.

Used first as a tool, a spy for another private grudge with a clan, the fetch had grown its own soul, a personality. A name. Artemis of the Nightshades. Sponsored into the clan by The matriarchs Veronica and of Angel, prodigy of Lord Zandar Tolkein, taught and trained, in sanity and madness; heaven's promised truce to Magnus Kricheck. Spy, sage, student...fool. Succored by that of the Old blood, yet an outcast among them, learned in their ways and madness, in their darkness, their power...their pain.

What she looks like:

Anyone who ever meets Artemis for the first time will be faced with the inner question ofwhether the mesmerizing being in front of him is either male or female.

It's useless to try to hold on to the usual gender indicators applicable to standard human beings. Just at first sight, she is a vision of rare and intoxicating beauty.The other traits of her physique do nothing but emphasize the impression she's a living and breathing China Doll.

A China Doll not only because of her mysterious beauty, she can stare at you with her intense piercing glance, give you the polite trademark smile she reserves for close friends or the seductive smirk that's meant to melt your heart down, yet you'll never be able to guess what's going on beneath that facade.

Her half-lidded eyes stare out at the world in still, nearly patient indifference. Almost as if she considered herself a spectator, a visitor that's only due to interfere whenever a new soul in search for hope and dreams dares walk through her door, deliberately requesting his participation. Almost as if the patient wisdom her mismatching pupils carry suggested she's just here to play an entertaining pastime.

She stares at people in all-knowing gentleness, captivating all the attention of their nervous glances. Perhaps letting a devious smirk show up to gift the cold smoothness of her porcelain face with a touch of evil playfulness, as if she knew a nasty secret about you that could keep her giggling all day.

But that's all what ordinary people temporally passing through her life will ever see. The face of a doll: beautiful, delicate, charming, yet empty.

The game she plays:

Together with the choice of hiding human emotions so comes Artemis' taste for acting them out. She enjoys toying with drama and beholding the effects her faultless performance produces in her occasional audience.

Though the humble, polite yet incredibly seductive drinker is the role she has the chance of practicing the most; it's surely not her absolute favorite. That's probably because she never gets the chance to enjoy herself or have as much fun as when she's playing the weak, defenseless damsel in distress or the voluptuous, irresistibly dark and sensual figure of the femme fatale.

That amazing actress' capacities are what turn her into an unpredictable being.

One second she can throw herself gracefully into your arms desperately crying for help or faint in shock with an artistic, over-feminine style. The next she can be indifferently watching you being torn apart by your enemies while calmly sipping martini or becoming the epitome of the hysteric spoiled brat and yelling the hell out of you with a shrilly voice capable of shattering glass cups.

You won't know what will come next unless you have the most delicious sweets, or the most expensive wines which is the only thing in the world that can drive her to a totally predictable, overjoyed reaction. This might be either a really entertaining game for her or a handy way of confusing those around her so they can never guess who the real her is.

Who sleeps in her bed?

Amazingly Artemis' sexuality is far more obvious and easier to understand than the rest of the enigma that constitutes her mysterious personality.

Apart from all that, just by regarding the way Artemis acts and the company she chooses can tell you she feels attracted to men of the very, nearly aggressive virile kind, which is a common trait in all the known male individuals she had claimed as family. Thanks to her mesmerizing and androgynous beauty, she has been the object of admiration of more than one extremely handsome male, and she has never seemed to discourage their advances in any way. Apart from the mandatory weak and effortless struggle that goes with the frail feminine role she just loves to play out in a relationship. Though in most of the cases there were also ulterior motives for her to let them go on. Leaving that aside, she does seem to enjoy being courted by very strong, very passionate men who can be violently rough and innocently tender at a time. That's what we could call Artemis' type.

Like we can tell by the many blatant hints we catch about her taste for roughness, Artemis is surely a ravaging hurricane in bed, and is more likely to take the first step and appear dominating, if only for her seductive femme fatale demeanor. Yet she's more likely to just play a very active, very aggressive role and allow her partner to take her violently and passionately instead of the other way round.

Building a mystery:

Everything about Artemis suggests an unearthly, almost unreal nature that won't go unnoticed even to the less sharp-eyed: going from the odd color of her eyes to the way she speaks as if she knew how the entire enigma of the universe works. (Which spending too much time with her mentor, Zandar Tolkein, had brought about)

Then the inevitable question arises: What is Artemis in the end?

She doesn't seem to age, her androgynous beauty preserved throughout the years of her apparently long existence. Whenever she gets hurt, her body will heal and self-restore itself.

Artemis is capable of reading a human heart like an open book, toy with their minds at will and know their deepest hopes and fears.

No matter she declares herself a hearty eater Artemis doesn't seem to feed on anything other than alcohol and sweets, yet she seems to wholeheartedly enjoy licking blood out of her long lacquered fingernails whenever she uses them as a deadly weapon. Blood appears to be a sporadic nourishing need that had earned her the reputation of being a vampire herself.

And yet, amidst it all she's a fountain of life in itself. She had been known as the Sleeper's Chosen, fought by factions of kindred during the Shadesport invasion, where her blood had awaken that which was never meant to walk the world again.

Despite that divine characteristic and the fact she is far above all the mortal creatures on earth, she does have a lot of earthy weaknesses such as fear, arrogance, too much love, physical lust or even her hopeless sweet tooth. That turns her into a much more carnal creature than what the idea of a divinely touched suggests and so makes her even more mysterious still.

And as it happens with nearly every preternatural being, her nature is deceiving and difficult to classify. She can't be called evil, because deep in her heart there's a deep love (or at the very least, indifferent tolerance) for every creature that inhabits the world. Yet her methods of justice are more than mercilessly, severely fair. There is a dark side in Artemis' personality we only come to see every once in a while. One with a twisted cruelty that can make human blood freeze. But fortunately that part is rarely seen, as if the dark angel slept within her heart waiting for a moment that really deserves to come to the surface.

Blessed be the child of the Dark, She of heaven who to earth came, apprentice of He whom Heaven wept for; heaven's lost and the Darkness' gain.

Afternoon, manor in the Highland of the Oriental Peninsula


How long have I remained here in the privacy of my self imposed exile away from the world outside, I had lost count. A century? Two? More? I truly no longer know. The days have blurred from one to the next, with but the occasional variations when one chosen companion or another have gone and succumbed to the ultimate sleep. I have lain in quietude and safety of the knowledge that my dearest mentor strives onward in his search.

I have, but no longer.

I am in quandary. A part of me thinks must remain here in the East, I who take care of Magnus’ holdings. He who mustn’t be awakened doesn’t have to end up with nothing, and with the lost of his only daughter… I have decided I am the only one worthy to protect him. In hindsight I think I must have chosen him over my beloved mentor out of duty.

The past be damned. This is no duty. I wanted equal power. Enough to protect Him if he ever came in need of me again.

Now though I wake up nights to the voices of his Ancient Chaos, long barred and dammed behind my own mind. I hear them calling to me, whispering sweet promises that reeks of blood beneath the honeyed lies. I can feel the dam start to chip, as if his own mind id filling with so many things that the madness in my soul cannot but be compelled to respond.

What have you, dear Zane?

The phone on my desk has been quietly buzzing for the past minutes now, and I think I know the reason why. Even now I can see the pilot’s wallet on top of my suitcases, and know what’s inside; plane tickets. A hotel reservation. A trip from my sanctuary to His own world. I have seen to the business I'll be leaving, I have made certain of the Games I will be playing. The information have already been gathered, the contacts made… Dresdin will be advised of my arrival, and I have laughed myself nearly hoarse at the idea of master’s companion of the decade. Amusing how he is pretending to breathe for a few heated tumbles in the night with one light skirt.

The old lecher never changes.

Perhaps it is time to return the constant in his existence. The God of all and of nothing deserves his masterpiece by his side after such solitude.  Chaos must not walk alone without his chosen companion. Exile is over now, I cannot remain in torpor... not for another decade, nor century.... not another millennia more.  So then…

I come to you once again, mentor of mine.