Posting something, may still edit a bit as necessary.

[hider=Artemis]
[center][b][h3]Artemis[/h3]

Watcher of the Woods, Maiden of the Hunt, Aegis of the Pure[/b][/center]

A creature of Hellas through and through, Artemis has never borne a name not of this world, even as her duties have never truly been those of her Arithborn predecessor. Where the latter monitored the biosphere of the planet, content to ensure that it did not risk growing untenable for human livelihood and expansion, her new namesake takes a far keener interest in the affairs of mortals. The hunt, the fundamental struggle between man and wilderness, she makes her domain, and even beyond it she jealously works to keep the balance of nature and civilization even, so that both may remain in the form most pleasing to the masters of Olympus. Where life grows and mutates in dangerous ways, she prunes it, and where mortal ambition encroaches too deeply upon the wilderness, she smites it harshly, lest it turn to hubris. In every city, her her temples stand like watchful eyes, even as her bestial emissaries prowl the deepest forests.

[b]Artifacts and Powers:[/b]

[b]Autotheina:[/b] Though the gods are inextricably bound to their supernal nature by the nanites coursing through their blood, for few are these ties as deep as for Artemis. She was not born from a human womb, but crafted from vat-flesh and metal-bone by her creator, a perfect child by artful calculation. The might and grace of divinity are embodied in her without effort; her strength, agility and resilience are preternatural, and, though she is rarely seen wearing more than a plain short tunic and a simple hairpin, her mere presence never fails to inspire reverent awe. Senses keener than any animal make her the mistress of the wilds in more than name alone; she has been known to disappear into the most insidious forests and swamplands for months at a time, only to emerge as flawless as she had entered, with neither a scratch nor even a single hair out of place. If nature had an apex, it would surely be her - were it not that the source of her strength is most unnatural.

[b]The Thanatephore Bow:[/b] Though all weapons are made with the purpose of bringing death, few are as deserving of proclaiming their attribute openly as Artemis’ silver bow, whose unseen arrows never miss their mark, and slay even the largest of beasts without leaving a wound larger than the bite of a mosquito. The secret of this power does not lie in the bow itself, which is perfectly ordinary, but in the unassuming bracelet the goddess wears on her right wrist. When she releases her empty bowstring, it fires a minuscule flechette, strong enough to pierce through armour. Sometimes it is imbued with a quick toxin, or a painful one, or even a virulent engineered disease, depending on the intent of its wielder. The dart can be fired with a simple contraction of the wrist, without drawing the Bow, but Artemis never forgoes the charade to maintain the weapon’s mystique, and keep its secret hidden.

[b]The Apanchomenis Grove:[/b] Hidden deep within the impassable wilds of Hellas, the Grove of the Hanged is the beating heart of Artemis’ power over the planet. Not so much a true grove as a frightful biotechnological factory, whose inchoate sentry-beasts, bound to strange machine-trees by organic filaments, lend it its name, this site contains the genetic records of every animal species of the known world, and, esoteric rumours claim, some from Arith. In the bowels of the Grove’s protoplasmic ponds, these sequences can be combined to create impossible chimeras, or monsters of myth, empowered with cybernetic organs in the same way as Artemis’ own body, or even lineages of entirely new animals, bred to fill a particular ecological niche. Some such terrors are given over to Zeus’ bestiary, while others are turned loose upon those unfortunate mortals who have displeased the goddess. The Grove cannot, however, give birth to human beings, and imperfect attempts will emerge from it as witless apes.


[hider=Notable Creatures of the Grove]

[b]Moon-elk:[/b] So named because of the crescent shape of their antlers, the gibbous heads of these beasts suggest that they have as much in common with moose as they do with elks. Although large and heavyset, they are remarkably agile thanks to their flexible legs, and fond of eating moss and tree bark even in the warmer seasons. Found all over Hellas, moon-elks are sacred to Artemis, and hunters who kill one must make an offering to her temple.

[b]Lystos bear:[/b] Dreaded predators of the woodlands, lystos bears bear some resemblance to badgers or wolverines, with their lean bodies, elongated snouts and vestigial tails. Notoriously ill-tempered and ferocious, they do not hesitate to attack humans who stray too close to their dens, but only rarely approach inhabited areas to prey on livestock. Legend has it that bears were once mortals who incurred Artemis' wrath, and were punished by being transformed into animals.

[b]The Boar of Kalydos:[/b] While there have been numerous boars over the centuries, such was the terror caused by their first appearance that they are still remembered by the name of the region they first plagued. As large and heavy as hippopotami and tremendously strong, these biomechanical monstrosities are the favoured instrument of the goddess' retribution. The Boars have six tusks and quills like porcupines on their back and flanks; fortunately, they are sterile and only ever appear one at a time.

[b]Stymphaloi:[/b] Rapacious birds with steely-gray feathers, the Stymphaloi are known as the hunting-bird of the Watcher, occasionally depicted as taking flight from her wrist to pursue their quarry. Illustrious mortals favoured by the goddess are sometimes gifted with a tame Stymphalos, a great honour as well as an admonition, for they have a ravenous appetite and are quite partial to human flesh. In the wild, they are feared for their sharp beaks and hard, rigid feathers, which astonishingly can protect them from arrows.
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[b]Persona:[/b]

Exacting and intransigeant, the Maiden of the Hunt seems to have been shaped to fit her seat among the gods in spirit as thoroughly as in body. She is meticulous about her duties, yet at the same time dispassionate and detached, as if to underscore that she is the mistress of her divine aspect, and not merely its attendant. All that pertains to the equilibrium of life in the known world is a challenge to herself first and foremost, to be surpassed with aplomb befitting one of her stature. No error nor imperfection can be countenanced, for that would be a failing on her part and a slight to her pride, that inalienable attribute of godhood. Such lofty notions having been impressed upon her since the earliest days of her existence, it is little wonder that she should be disarmingly candid in her superciliousness, and indeed that she expects the same of her peers; few things are stranger and more suspicious than a humble deity.

For all that, Artemis cannot truly be said to be self-absorbed. It is no secret among the Olympians that her greatest yearning is for something she can never obtain - [i]purity[/i], that which neither her ascetic habits nor her chaste life can give her. Ever conscious of her nature as an amalgam of life and artifice, hybrid and commingled, she turns outwards in search of her ideal, to the marvels of the natural world and the human spirit. The beauty of an unspoiled field, of a crystalline spring, of just and clear laws, of unsullied maidenhood all captivate her to the point that she will impose upon the mortal peoples and their ways to preserve them, through the stifling and sometimes arbitrary dictates of her veiled priests. Woe upon those who ruin something she cherishes, even inadvertently; deadly vengeance will inevitably visit them in the shape of a fearsome beast.

Despite the uneasy fame her bearing and fascinations have woven for her, the goddess is surprisingly tractable in person. Aloof but not reclusive, despite her habit of wandering the wilds of the world as much as she resides in the Heavenly City, it is rare for her to dismiss a visitor or supplicant out of hand, and, though stern and inflexible, she has patience to spare even for her most eccentric fellows in the pantheon. Only blatant irreverence from a lesser, or naked contempt for the things she prizes, will rouse her ire, dry, venomous and swift to action.

[b]Background:[/b]

The current Artemis was not the first to take up that name. Originally, it belonged to one of the erstwhile Zeus' crew members, a specialist in ecology who had joined the mission to ensure that the lost colony's biosphere was stable. Having become an accomplice to the Captain's plan, she took her place among the new gods as the keeper of the forests, whose animal population she revitalised with new species bearing her mark. Yet, despite her mastery of life, she could not wholly avert the aging of her own body. It was thus that she devised a successor, neither an offspring, for she had none, nor a clone of herself, for over the years she had come to doubt her abilities in this superhuman role. No, her inheritor was to be an improvement, with none of the weaknesses of mankind. By arts unknown, and most likely not without assistance, she grew the divine homunculus who would become her successor. This was centuries ago; now, little or no memory remains in the world beyond Olympus that Artemis was not always as she is.

[b]Relationships:[/b]

[b]Zeus:[/b] The long arm of the King of the Gods reaches even the most hidden lairs, and for all that Artemis knows, this has always been the case. Though none too fond of his wanton habits, a sentiment that rose to bilious spite on those occasions when he menaced the virtue of her clergy, she saw his authority as indisputable and was content enough to pledge her submission so long as no interference came of it to her own devices, offering him tribute in the guise of savage creatures for his menagerie. The excesses of the wilful ancient had all the same left little room for genuine respect and reverence, and it was not without relief that she met the news of his demise, seeing in the inexperience of the new Zeus a chance to curtail further indignities and perhaps mold greater swathes of the world more to her liking.

[...]

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