Artemis (Quincy)

Name: Artemis Davidson

Age: Ageless (Looks to be in late twenties.)

Gender: Male

Appearance: Time has treated the old Quincy very well, almost as if apologizing for toy with him so much. Brown hair, that was once long, and unkempt, now lay neat, and short, only an inch long with any given strand, save for the bangs, which cover the width of his forehead, and rest just below the brow. While time may have been kind, stress has not. The brown is littered with specs of silver, and once inviting, warm, brown eyes have become cold, and filled with disdain. His face is smooth, minus the small patch of brown fur in the middle of the chin.

His basic attire consists of a pair of loose fitting, blue jeans, the cuffs of which are frayed, and torn. His feet lay in a pair of black and white, vintage, worn, but still in tact, shoes, with white laces. Weaved into the belt loops of the jeans, is a woven, leather belt. Along the belt, there is a leather band, with a snap button keeping it together. Along this one band, a stock of silver rectangles is usually kept. They usually jingle like a ring of keys, unless the stock happens to be running low. Artemis' torso is usually covered in his signature, white button up. These days, though, he wears nothing underneath, but a bare chest, and more often than not, has the shirt buttoned up. Hist left wrist is an odd pigment, almost seeming to be perpetually bruised, internally, with yellow-golden tints in the skin. If one were to look closer, they would see that the yellow bruises take the shape of an ornate cross, and a small chain. This shape belongs to that of a relic he'd long since forgot: His Quincy Cross.
~Height: 6 ft. even.
~Other: While he seems to be a very normal, aging man to the majority of the human population, for those who are capable of seeing the spiritual side of the world, there are two major differences. The obvious one, is his face. He refers to it as the Maske From the bridge of the Quincy's nose, down wrapping around the curves of his lower jaw, and chin, sits a bone mask. The edges of the mask lay where his jawline meet his neck, and under the bottom jaw, just above the jugular. While it's mostly one, smooth piece, there are lines etched near the area that the mouth should be, almost as if someone tried drawing teeth in the mask with a knife. The overall appearance is quite similar to the bandana used by bandits in western films, to cover their face, and conceal their identity. This bone mask does not interfere with Artemis' speech, or breathing.

The second difference between himself and a normal human appearance can only be seen if he removes his shirt. Both of his shoulder blades, and wrapping around ever single rib, is a bone plating, much like his mask. It's almost as if the bones were exposed, but they seem to be much more solid, and tougher than normal bone. Neither the plating, nor the Maske can be removed, or hidden. They are always present.

Personality: He is very intelligent, modest, and able to think very quickly on his feet. Artemis is a natural born leader, and a genius of military tactics. Once upon a time, he prided himself as an inventor. From time to time, those thoughts resurface. But recently, they've been few, and far between. As far as his attitude is concerned, he'd usually very laid back, and sarcastic, even in the heat of battle.

Gone, are the days, sadly, when his sarcasm was genuine. These days, it seems to be as much of a mask as the one on his face. Beneath the witty facade, the Quincy's mind often travels to dark places. While not at the point of drastic actions, there is a self loathing rooted into his subconscious. When with company, he tends to let lighter emotions take over, and his facade, for a fleeting moment, merges with his true face. If left alone, however, the darkness eats away at his consciousness, and dares to swallow him whole. There have been many cold, lonely nights, where Artemis feared he would lose his sanity. The Quincy rarely refers to himself as such anymore. Now he knows himself only as the Maskerade.

(Note: Maskerade, with that spelling is the German word for 'Costume,' or 'Mask'.

History/Background: Artemis was a child prodigy, gaining the ability to speak fluently before his first birthday. He was born to a family of entrepreneurs, in Phoenix, Arizona. During his youth, he was always pushed harder, to become something more, something his parents could be proud of, like his older brother, who was an up and coming lawyer. Artemis succeeded rather early, having cleared his way through elementary school by age eight. He never made any real friends, none that anyone else could see.

After that, he was sent to Pennsylvania, to attend a private school that lay in the countryside around Philadelphia. After six more years, he had obtained his diploma, and made haste for Harvard. During his stay at the university, Artemis took various courses, from simple business management, to advanced electronics, to quantum physics. Even a few semesters of Japanese made it onto his resume. He spent a total of four years at Harvard, and walked away with several degrees at the age of eighteen. Still, the only ones who actually knew who he was, were the ghosts that still haunted the university's halls.

From that point, he set his focus on ruling the Capitalist world. He started a small business, selling phone service. The business took off, as his rates were much lower than the competitors. It also helped that he was honest in his offers, and didn't simply scam people by hiding one of the zeros on the bill. From that foundation, he branched out, developing new technology, and researching better, faster ways to route the world's traffic of information. Of course, his empire would be put on hold while the government sluggishly debated approval of his new concepts. As he began focusing more on his business, there was no more time for the ghosts, and they soon stopped appearing before him.

At age twenty-one, Artemis decided to expand his tentative corporate empire, taking a trip to Japan. Once there, he met with a few executives, most of which took little interest in his developments. His lack of interpersonal skills didn't help matters much, either. It was a futile effort. As if his failure wasn't enough of a blow, he received a call from his vice president, with very grave news. His empire was no longer on hold, but in ruin. As it turned out, he'd made a few 'not-so-legal' shortcuts, and the operation, as a whole, was instantly seized and terminated. Artemis had lost everything, including a way home.

Not even having the funds to pay for a room at a local hotel, he wandered the streets that night, simply looking for a place to escape the wind and rain. Perhaps it was due to his sudden shock, perhaps it was an effect of reality sinking its teeth in, or maybe it was just Murphy's Law, but the ghosts appeared once more, and not the pleasant kind.

Down a particularly dark alley, Artemis was confronted by a strange creature, the like of which, he'd not seen before. The beast appeared to be a gorilla, with a white, bone, mask for a face, and a gaping hole in its chest. Whatever it was, it didn't like him. The creature chased him out of the alley, and a few miles through town. It didn't seem to be capable of catching him, but it was determined to. Suddenly, a golden flash illuminated the streets. That very flash saved his life, piercing the creature's mask, forcing it to dissolve into thin air. The origin of the flash: An older man, more than likely in his sixties, with a hand pointed directly over Artemis' shoulder.

The old man listened to his story, and even took him in, offering shelter, and a home, until Artemis was able to get back on his feet, financially speaking. That first night, Artemis questioned the events that occurred, from the masked ape, to the golden bolt of light. The old man seemed eager to explain that the creature was known as a Hollow, and that he was something called a Quincy. He went so far as to express that Artemis was one of these 'Quincy' as well.

For four years since that night, Artemis stayed with the old man, learning about the world he really lived in, the one with spirits, and those that fought against the evil ones. He also spent a large portion of that time training, learning how to use his new found powers. He'd gotten nearly to the point the old man was at in a very short period of time, respectively. It had seemed that Artemis had an uncanny gift for the ways of spiritual war.

Unfortunately, the old man fell ill in his old age, passing away in his sleep. He'd left a note a few days earlier, when he felt the end coming, for Artemis to take his glove, to seek out the other Quincy, and to defend the weak in his stead. Artemis gave him as proper burial as he could, and took the glove.

Since, he'd spent time in solitude, mastering his new skills, especially Ransotengai and Hirekyaku. He found new ways to use these abilities, such as using spirit threads to fortify areas of his body, cushioning impacts, or strengthening the skin to resist being cut. His Hirenkyaku is now capable of allowing powered kicks, and even the ability to stand on the air, even in the real world.

He had left the past behind him, forgetting about Capitalistic races, and a world rules by money. In the four years he'd spent with the old man, his eyes were opened. His only goal now was to defend humanity from the beasts known as Hollows.

That was the initial plan, anyway.

Quicker than he could fathom, Artemis was thrown into a world of chaos. Fights broke out between the clans of the damned. The once oblivious Quincy witnessed unimaginable things first hand. It was through this constant state of war, that he came to know Shinigami, Vaizards, Bounto, and Arrancar. More often than not, he found himself fighting the Hollow, and their hybrid offspring, only to be told that he was getting in a Shinigami's way. Eventually, he gave up trying to be part of the solution, and feigned ignorance, like the rest of humanity.

While the fighting continued without him, he killed only what attacked him, which was small game, mostly. Still it was enough to keep his skills sharp. In the meantime, he decided to bring his focus back to his own life, and pose an attempt to regain what he'd lost when he'd been stranded. Finding a very nice job as an electronics engineer for Sony, he made himself quite a bit of money, in a small amount of time. Most of it was used to keep himself alive, spent on food, health care, and rent for a run down apartment in south Tokyo.

That was before time had its way with him.

It had started as an average day, waking up, taking the subway to work. However, he would never make it to his office. The moment he stepped off the metropolitan transportation, he stood in ruins. The tunnel seemed as though it had been long since abandoned, and the train that he'd just exited was gone. It was quite obvious that something wasn't right. Making his way out of the tunnel - a task made more difficult by the collapsed stairway - he stumbled into a world beyond his own comprehension. The streets were alive with light, which made the day seem like night, as the ground was so much brighter than the sky. Vehicles hovered above the pavement, screaming past at speeds nearing the sound barrier, and there were robots, as well. Artemis had stumbled his way into a work of science fiction, and he wanted out.

Unfortunately, that wouldn't happen. After asking around, he discovered that he was four hundred years away from home. How this happened, was beyond him, but he needed to find a way back, or perhaps one to wake up. Neither availed itself to him. With no solution to his problem, and nothing to tell him how such things came to be, he gave up hope. The Quincy was stranded.

On the plus side, his bank account was still open, and it had accumulated quite the amount of interest. He now had more money than he knew what to do with. So, he decided to settle into the future, and start associating himself with the modern technology. For two years, he rented out a large workshop, dissecting foreign devices, and reverse engineering his own brands. He didn't sell any of the things he made, rather scrapping them, and using the parts for other gadgets. Eventually, he worked his way from cell phones and hand held computers, to vehicles. And he made himself the masterpiece of his inventive career.

It was a motorcycle, built so that only a Quincy could ride it. It ran purely on spiritual particles, and required only a small amount to start up. It fuel source was nearly unlimited, and it could almost match the speed of top notch, production vehicles of the day. His design, however, had something theirs didn't: Wheels.

Then war broke out, the invisible kind. It seemed that the spiritual worlds were still around, and everyone still hated everyone. This time, though, Artemis had made up his mind, to help the Shinigami, whether they liked it or not. What was the point in being a Quincy, if he only lived a normal human life? Armed with his new bike, and the glove he inherited from his old master, he sped across the front lines, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. It was during this time, that he mastered the art of mounted combat, both ranged, and close quarters. There weren't too many forces that could match him back then.

Then time struck again, this time, in the middle of combat.

It had been a rather heated battle, between himself, and an Arrancar of rather large stature. During the battle, he was forced to release the old man's glove, and resort to using only his cross, which had been used so much, that gashes tore through the Quincy's wrist, and engulfed the object. It would be forever embedded beneath his skin. Such was the side effects of a fight that lasted seventy-two hours. And, suddenly, it was over. He stood in the middle of a desert wasteland, straddling his prized vehicle, and once again, left with a severe case of jet lag. Where he had just been was a grassy field, just outside of town. What it was now, told him that things had changed. He could only wonder when he was now.

Another hundred years, he'd missed. Things were relatively the same, with one major change. Most plant life had been wiped out by a wide spread virus. Humanity did what it could, but it would be a long time before the earth was green again. For the time being, the time traveling Quincy could only cope with the latest jolt, and carry on.

It had seemed that the war had ended in his absence, and that the Hollow had won. Therefore, Artemis took it upon himself, to try and be the sole defender of mortal souls. It was a tougher job than he had thought. From time to time, he was aided by another brave, gifted soul, but for the most part, he was alone.

A year had passed, before a day came along, that would change his life, as well as his death.

For so long, his travel through time had remained a mystery. But he finally discovered the reasoning behind it all. It had been the work of an Arrancar, one who had been stalking him since that day on the subway. The creature was a child, a young boy, who claimed to have saved his life, when removing him from the time stream. It apologized, but said that there was no other way. It spoke, briefly, of destiny, and how the Quincy was meant for something greater than just this. It also explained that it was ill, and wouldn't be able to see Artemis to the time when he was needed. The Arrancar apparently had a few weeks left, before its body would give way, and blow away with the wind. That was the reason for the confrontation. The child wanted, so badly, to see the Quincy's alleged destiny fulfilled, but did not have the power left to send him there. There was only one way for the mortal man to live that long, and he knew that he wasn't going to like it.

Artemis and the Arrancar needed to merge.

There was only one way to do this. The Quincy had to leave his own body, and allow his soul to be devoured by the child. From there, the Arrancar would possess his body, and it would become its tomb. Once the Hollow was dead, Artemis' soul would be surrendered back to its body, with a few additions.

This was all well and good, in theory. But the process took nearly a month to complete. A month that Artemis was unable to control his own body, and watched from the belly of a Hollow that wasted away inside of it. As the Arrancar drew its final breath through the Quincy's lips, it regurgitated, so to speak, releasing all the souls it had devoured, save for Artemis. As it faded from existence, the two souls merged, a combination of corrupt mortal. Upon inheriting his body back, he also gained the child's memories. Apparently, the kid had been just as blood thirsty as the rest of them, before meeting Artemis. Something changed, then, for the better. The Arrancar had stopped feeding then, which was the cause of its demise. But, in its ending, it would assure that the Quincy's story would go on.

But immortality came with a price.

No more, was Artemis alive. He was merely physical, a living body, piloted by a dead soul. He truly was on both sides of the fence now, with one foot in the grave, along with the leg, and arm, and half of his being. While he could carry on with life, he was destined to watch those around him grow old, and die. People always wondered why he never grew older with them. He couldn't give them the answer. Who would actually believe that he was half ghost? He no longer needed food, nor sleep. He simply needed to keep moving, to exist. Before long, he began to question whether or not he really did exist anymore.

After two hundred years, he could bear it no longer. He found himself an evacuated, under ground facility, used in one of many of humanity's wars, and locked himself away. It was during that time, he remained in solitude, collecting his thoughts, reassuring himself that he was still alive. It was an uphill struggle, the whole way.

It's been a hundred years since he locked himself away. Now Artemis has made up his mind, to return to the world, to see how it had changed in his absence. During that one century, he had managed to bring his mind to a stable point.

But stability is a thread that snaps easily under the right weights.

(I do feel self conscious about the Maskerade thing, as I feel as though I'm stealing some of Rive's thunder. But, this is something that I've personally wanted to do for quite some time, and looking over Rive's character made me remember it. I will state now that the Maske (German for 'mask'.) serves no real pivotal function. It merely provides aesthetics, agelessness, and maybe - if stretched a bit - a small amount of defense where the bone is.)

(Also, I will note that I am more than willing to modify the futuristic bits, to match the back story of the RP.)

RP Sample: (I apologize for not having the ambition to type up a whole sample. Unfortunately, just about everything I've done in the past, with Artemis, is in a sea of e-waste. So, I bring something completely unrelated. The following is one post, taken from my own RP, following a character named Tobias. He is a police officer... Almost... And in this instance, he's after a runaway fugitive. We pick up just after he's fired on the culprit, and another person aiding the felon. This post takes place after a reactive post from another person. I realize that it's like to be extremely confusing, for which I apologize.)

The first bullet hit, made known by the mist of blood that followed it. The second one, however, wasn't as fortunate. The sound of a ricochet shot back to his ears. Something had deflected it. Still observing through the scope, Tobias could see a slight distortion around the targets. They seemed to have a few good tricks up their sleeves.

Suddenly, they both vanished, leaving behind a crater. This wasn't good. Pressing a button on his comm device, a green holoscreen flashed to life before his left eye. One red dot pulsed on the screen, not too far away. At least he knew where the Kuryr woman was. There was no telling if the other target would be with her, but Tobias felt that it was safe to assume so. He mounted his bike again, turning it one eighty before giving the throttle and disappearing.

Weaving between halted cars while coasting, his left eye kept checking back to the holoscreen. As he closed in, the radar screen refreshed, giving a more detailed map, showing only one street, now. The red blip was inside a building. Rounding a corner, he decelerated, pumping the breaks. Eventually, he halted the vehicle in front of a large building, which looked rather important, compared to the surrounding establishments. It was much larger in size, and had a large cross emblem in various spots. Dismounting his transportation, he walked up the small flight of steps, wrapping a hand around the handle of the door. It wouldn't give. Perhaps it was locked. That didn't matter. There were ways around a locked door.

Tobias returned to his still running bike, unstrapping his gun. With one well aimed shot, he forced a slug through the visible keyhole under the door's handle. A the sound of a metal on metal collision, at a high velocity, filled the air as he lowered the rifle. Giving the throttle a small turn, he pointed the bike at the now unlocked door. He changed gears temporarily, putting it in neutral. Walking the vehicle backward, he made as long of a stretch he could between himself and the door.

After throwing it into gear again, Tobias cranked the throttle, sending himself at the building's face. Though he was only using one had to steer, the bike kept to a straight line, flying up the short flight of steps. Clearing the top step, he went airborne, angling the nose of the bike up slightly. Slamming into the front door, the obstacle burst open, allowing him passage into the building. Still in mid air, Tobias shifted his weight, turning the bike ninety degrees before crashing down on the carpeted floor, skidding to a halt. As his inertia halted his advance, he aimed the gun at the two, training more on the winged man, as he seemed more threatening.

Of course, now he knew that the man did not belong in this world. The inhabitants of Earth did not have wings. Still, he was fairly certain that his second target was not Kuryr. If that were the case, his rader would have been tracking two targets, as it was set for locking onto the Kuryr signature. Still he was a threat to this world, simply by being there, and had placed a bounty on his head equal to that of the Kur woman. "If you both come with me now, and cooperate," he addressed, "I will not harm you. However, if you resist, then I assure you, my orders are not to take the Kuryr back alive. As for you, sir, no official orders have been passed. As an unexpected threat, though, I am commanded to deal with you as I see fit."

Skill Ranks: (Rank from 1 to 4 you specialties as a quincy) Your choses for quincy are Particle forming, hirenkyaku, Bow Proficiency, Endurance.

1. Particle Control (Especially with spirit threads) Lv. 4
2. Hirenkyaku Lv. 4
3. Weaponry (Mostly Seeles) Lv. 3
4. Endurance Lv. 3
5. Bow Proficiency Lv. 2

Nonsense, there was no stealing of thunder.

As always, a pleasure to read, my friend. Approved.

Welcome back Art.......hope you enjoy it here...