Lycanthrope / Leopard / Homicide Detective Affiliation:
Rogue, since there’s no PrideAge:
61; looks like a woman in early 30sRelationship Status:
Great tragedy and great joy have formed the deepest inner workings of her psyche, moulding Artemis into a woman of great intensity and variance she is today. Life is spent threading through dangerous waters and dipping into tantalizing shades of grey, seemingly utterly unaffected and unafraid, dancing the delicate line between the human and preternatural world set on the inevitable collision course. Her true quality is concealed under stringent control by a poised, sarcastic approach towards people, a plane of smoothness evocative of darkest velvet; dual nature of a woman torn between a human and a cat buried underneath the façade of professionalism presented at work. Her typical demeanor is that of a calm, composed -- eerily so sometimes – person. A highly driven individual, Renard dives completely into anything she dedicates herself to, striving to maintain a level head and her eye upon the bigger picture no matter what is happening around her. Quiet decisive, and at times obstinate to a fault even if she may pause to listen to those she values, respects and trust, there is truly no holding her back once her mind is set. The leopardess has a desire to survive against all odds and come out victorious in any scenario she’s placed in, and ensure others do too. Therefore, she will follow the plan set before her regardless of how hard she has to work to get there, or how long it would take her to accomplish given goal. Never will one find her begging for the help of another, much less begging at all. A woman of dignity and resourcefulness, Artemis will sooner resolve to eliminating all the obstacles by herself, biding her time and waiting for the apex of her subject’s weakness to show itself to her. But as she is intelligent enough to realize another course of action might be better, she can recognize the opportunity and work with others when required. Fiercely proactive but never without thinking, she refuses to back out or walk away without having finished that what she set out to do.
Yet, Artemis is also such a tempest in her own right when it comes to what she stands for, or people she keeps close to her heart. As composed as she generally is, the feline also has a rather wicked temper, when pushed. A powerful collaborator and auxiliary, she demonstrates to be one hell of an opponent when rubbed the wrong way. After all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, especially if the said woman is a domineering lycanthrope, and in Renard’s case that’s absolutely true. There are certain things that can truly enrage the leopardess – threatening and endangering her friends she is protective of, killing the innocents, manipulating her and betraying her trust are the most common causes of her fury. When roused for a good reason, her anger is ferocious and wild like the beast inside her. Possessing a deep sense of right and wrong, her ends in the past might have justified the means in extreme situations, no matter the risk or loss involved. Not only a cop but also someone who wants to ensure the existence of the preternaturals remains unknown to the general public, she has absolutely no tolerance for bloodthirsty vampires and frenzied lycanthropes that prey on the humans, and will put them down like the rabid animals they are. Breaching the oath she’s taken as the cop by taking the law into her own hands, acting like the judge, jury and the executioner in the shadowed alleys after the nightfall, does occasionally weight upon her in moments of solace. She realizes the necessity of choosing between the lesser of two evils, perceives the greater good in bending the law so all hell breaking loose is avoided. It helps her sleep at night, enables her to glimpse at her reflection in the mirror. Perhaps her reasons are somewhat selfish, because what Artemis would loathe the most is to be caged for who she is, herself. Or maybe she doesn't want anyone else to be infected the way she was, losing so much in the process.
Although she keeps most at arms length, that is not to say Renard is an isolationist or socially awkward. The leopardess is no stranger to sharing a beer with her fellow detectives in the local pub; she does enjoy a good laugh and a good conversation when in the right company, possessing a quick tongue, dry wit and knack for coming timing. What Artemis prefers above all else in social endeavors, is for people to astonish her by being interesting in some way, rather than being completely dull and outright stupid, which the feline has no patience for, and will never hesitate to outsmart someone or call them out on their bullshit when she perceives it. When she does find an individual likable and enticing, she can be playful, mischievous, fierce, sensual, sexy without being overt, coquettish and frolicsome as all leopards can get. She is a woman who enjoys flirting and the company of opposite sex, but her relationships with men hardly go past platonic, always remaining at the purely physical level where Renard is concerned. The feline is cautious about who she places her trust in. After all, life has thought her that weaknesses are not to be tolerated, and that ultimately the only person she could ever truly rely on is herself. Allowing someone in would warrant allowing herself to become emotionally exposed, and that’s something Artemis would much rather go without. In truth, she is brimming over with passion on the inside; like a blazing conflagration concealed beneath a layer of frost, she’s capable of loving with wild abandon just as much as she could loathe with acidic bitterness.Physical StatsAvatar:
Athletic with feminine curvesHair:
Brown, reaches shoulder bladesEyes:
Having a penchant to mark her flesh with black ink for different reasons, Artemis possesses a number of tattoos spread out across her body, meaning of some rather obvious while that of others remain known only to her. Certainly three largest tattoos would be those of a leopard done in a tribal style on her lower back, the five columns of incantation written in Khmer upon her left shoulder blade, and a large, black cross on the leopardess’ lower left hip. She has smaller writings inked on the inside of her arms, and on her lower stomach. The feline has also acquired few scars throughout the years, some covered by her tattoos while others are not that noticeable or in plain sight. She has a tiny mole above her right eyebrow. General Appearance:
Entrancing, enigmatic, unique – those are only few adjectives people generally use to describe Artemis, and such words still fall short. The leopardess is a visually stunning woman, if for no other reason then her unconventional yet considerable allurement. Standing at astounding 5’10, Renard is relatively taller than most women, and she quietly revels in the influence and power that her height provides her. With naturally ample bosom, long legs that seemingly go for miles, and a lithe body that possess subtle curves rather than highly voluptuous ones, Artemis has a composure that makes her simply irresistible to glance at as she passes by. A lycanthrope and one who undergoes regular exercises and training, her muscles are feminine and honed to perfection, leaving no curve undeserved and no eyes left unaware of her presence. In spite of being no less than two inches shy of six feet, the leopardess always stands straight, never expressing self-consciousness or shame in her bearing. Quite the opposite. Renard is a feline, pure and simple; her posture is prideful, perfect and often even intimidating, her walk graceful like liquid, giving off a sign of absolute control and a suggestion of concealed strength, whilst not being overbearing or arrogant at the same time. In conjunction with her impressive, statuesque figure, the wereleopard exudes an aura of vigor and resilience that easily separates her from her surroundings, yet she carries an air of sophistication and grace about her that reveals her gentle nature.
Still, it is Artemis’ countenance that people seem to notice the most, which isn’t in the slightest unusual given her rather refined, striking facial characteristic. They are strong yet alluring, sophisticatedly distinctive yet copiously exotic. Lusciously full lips seemingly made for pouting and curling into a smirk might as well be considered her trademark feature, and they’re further complimented by high cheekbones. When a genuine smile curls her mouth, one lightening up her entire face and reaching her eyes, it’s quite a sight to behold. Although those bee-stung lips undoubtedly attract one’s eye first, the leopardess’ own eyes are no less beautiful and dominate her visage just as equally. Resting beneath slender, slightly tapered brows that can easily furrow in exasperation or arc in amusement, is a pair of vibrant, mesmerising orbs that paint a picture of the clearest spring skies when reflecting her compassion, love and kindness, or cold, arctic oceanic depths when the feline is enraged. Piercingly cerulean in hue and surrounded by long, dark lashes, those eyes give Renard’s countenance quite an exotic look with their almond shape and feline slant. Just like the rest of her statuesque body that hides many secrets close to the werefeline’s heart, skin of Artemis’ face is smooth, with a fair tone and a natural, lightest tan to it. The flawless complexion is attractively complimented by chocolaty hair, flowing freely around her shoulders and tumble in soft waves to graze just the bottom of her shoulder blades. When on the job, Artemis tends to keep her hair off her face in some way, yet usually leave it free-falling and delicately wavy during her time off.
Feminine and sophisticated, fashion conscious yet also practical, Artemis does like to look good but she also knows how to dress for the occasion. Unsurprisingly, her job wardrobe consists of the casual, practical articles, yet it is on other occasions that the feline’s sensual and womanly side does shine through the attire which is elegant and flattering to her figure – never in a tacky or vulgar sense, and never intentionally provocative. Renard is a self-aware woman comfortable in her own skin, and cupped with her innate feline grace, this surely gives her the kind of natural sensuality mortal women rarely possess. There is nothing artificial or forced about her. There is no posing to her presentation, no posturing, no flaunting of the gifts nature so generously bestowed, yet those which could unarguably and effortlessly be a power unto themselves. One will never see Artemis using her unique pulchritude to get what she wants, for she is too proud to ever downgrade herself in such a way. Regardless of what she is wearing -- trousers, jeans, shirts with or without a neckline, a skirt or an extravagant gown, flatsoled boots or stilettos – the werelopeardess never fails at managing to achieve just the right combination of chic and classy. Equipment & Skills:
Although not the only type of firearms she is skilled with, or indeed the type of weaponry, Renard has the standard issued 9mm Glock. She also owns an unregistered Beretta.
• • • master stealthBiographyHistory:
Just like all wereleopards, Artemis is naturally surreptitious creature, and she’s had more than enough time to master this talent and turn it into an indisputable art form. As perceptible as she is when merely sauntering around, Sabine can avoid being detected should she desire so, thanks to her superior ability to hide herself. Just like the leopards she takes after, she is perfectly capable of moving around soundlessly, quieting her breathing and rendering herself virtually invisible. A master of stealth, she can easily blend into the shadows or melt into the crowd, find places to ensconce herself in, as well as remain there unnoticed for an extended period of time, up until the perfect moment to strike presents itself, when she can make and finish her move without making so much of a sound. Glance away from her only for a second, and it’s enough for Renard to disappear or pounce.
• • • adroitness
Artemis is a cat, so nimbleness comes naturally to her. The enhanced physiology of her kind enables Renard to be more flexible and agile than regular humans; her reflexes, kinesthesia and hand-eye coordination are exceeding, the movements of her hands and her footwork precisely well thought-out to take the target out quickly yet without getting sluggish or sloppy. Possessing a flexible spine, she is equally masterly and agile on the ground as she is in the mid-air, capable of bending and contorting her body and altering her descent like a cat she is, stretching herself out and leaping high as all leopards can do. Artemis often utilizes these skills in a fight, but she can be defeated by someone, or something, faster than her so that she simply wouldn’t be able to evade the oncoming attack. Yet, just as she’s quick on her hands and feet, she is also of quick mind. A natural born strategist who can come up with ingenious plans and reach valid decisions under pressure, her resourceful, improvising mind is also able to calculate an attack a mere second before rapid execution, which makes Renard quite a formidable adversary in her own right.
• • • combat
Having traveled the world for decades and observed and learned many different styles of martial arts, Artemis has developed her own, rather unique style of fighting. To put it simply, her technique is an agglomeration of everything she’s learned and everything she is – a worldly feline. Some might describe it as kung-fu upon first glance but it’s not fully that, for her actions are much more acrobatic, every movement graceful and elegant as one would expect from a cat, yet speaking of the hidden strength one will surely experience first hand upon their own skin if they give her a good reason. Renard may not always fight fair, or seemingly to her full potential. Depending upon whom she’s fighting and whether she wants them to become aware of her skills that transcend human aptitude, Artemis might just resort to good old, dirty fistfight and scratching, a kick in the groin and breaking the chair over opponent’s back.
World War II and the times that ensued afterwards were not easy for France, or the rest of the Europe for that matter, yet it brought together Varian Shanton, the owner of the small vineyard in Bordeaux, and Dalena, a refugee from Czechoslovakia in search of a better life far from her devastated home. Born in April of 1947 in the south of France, Sabine, as her parents named her, was the second child in the Shanton family, her brother Adrien preceding her two years earlier. Not the wealthiest or most influential family in Bordeaux, Shantons still lived decently and both children grew without missing much, alcohol apparently something that was always consumed by the masses and wine-loving Frenchmen, tumultuous times or not. As he had already gotten the heir he wished for, Varian was rather old-fashioned in regards to how female children were to be raised, and he was determined his daughter be brought up as a lady, thought perfect decorum and utmost compliance. She was to be polite and well-mannered, wouldn’t pry into business of men or talked back, questioned or pondered things that were none of her concern, wondered about what could have been left unspoken, but complied to the wishes of her father and, eventually, her husband as every good woman should. Although in a way it felt as if this kind of upbringing was smothering the real her, Sabine was resolute to be the best daughter and be that what her father wanted of her, if she already wasn’t born a male. However stifling the proprieties education might have been, the part that the girl most certainly didn’t mind was learning to speak English, study all about the well-written literature, learn how to dance and how to play few instruments. Although playing a piano was something every lady simply had to know, it was the violin that truly captured Sabine, her innate passion and free spirit coming through melodies she played.
At the age of seventeen Sabine was already a sophisticated, demure young woman, but having learned all there was to learn about decorum in Bordeaux, Mr. Shanton deemed it appropriate his daughter should also be more cultured. Therefore, Sabine was dispatched to Paris to live with her aunt for a while, in the center of culture, education and – whether her father liked it or not, or even knew as much – everything new and whimsical. Paris was all that Bordeaux was not at the time, and even Aunt Charlotte was so much different from her brother, Sabine’s father. A widow who inherited all of her husband’s considerable wealth after he died of heart attack, Charlotte, the more open-minded of the two Shanton siblings, raised her own daughter, Adalina, in a less strict and less authoritative environment. No, their house was not one for debauchery, Charlotte simply harboured modern views, believing the women should have a bigger role in society than merely having to look beautiful and be obedient. Exposed to the environment where women were encouraged to be more, truly be themselves, it didn’t take long for Sabine’s inner yearning for freedom to latch onto this opportunity, and the young woman soon became sociable in a more outspoken fashion, not hesitating to express her view on certain matters nor being ashamed to inquire about things she wished to learn more of, but those that might have once been labeled as none of her concern by her conservative father. Looking into schools as she was supposed to, Sabine’s passion for learning and the world at large orientated her towards anthropology and history, something her father would undoubtedly consider useless but that currently didn’t matter. Sabine also got along with her cousin wonderfully, since Adelina was only couple of years older, and she found the life in Paris to be thoroughly liberating and exciting.
Three years went by and Sabine did meet someone -- a gentleman by the name of Olivier Claverie. Having finished the university himself only a year ago, Monsieur Claverie was invited to attend an assembly organized to honour the latest generation of graduates. Initially capturing his attention with her substantial allurement, their conversation would quickly come to discover the many mutual interests the two shared. A history scholar himself, his own desire for knowledge and all the world’s secrets resulted with Oliver also taking up the studies in archeology. Both drawn to learning about cultures and civilizations, albeit in somewhat dissimilar fashion, the two recognized the same passion and adventurous spirit within one another, finding a stable, mutual ground founded on the things they had in common. Olivier wasn’t much of a musical person, not having much of an ear for it, but in all the other spheres of interest the two were rather compatible, their many discussions on matters they both considered significant something that Sabine enjoyed immensely. Their friendship grew steadily, slowly mounting to amiable fondness. Yet, the situation back in Bordeaux hadn’t altered much in her absence, nor has Mr. Shanton mellowed his conservative views even a bit, and Sabine was cognizant of the fact that now it was only a matter of time before her father started parading her around for all the eligible suitors. Not wanting to relinquish her freedom and return to the dull life she hoped to have put behind her, when Olivier proposed in the late 1848 Sabine accepted. Father wasn’t entirely pleased, thinking his daughter could have been married into a much better family, but by then Sabine was fully matured, self-aware woman who preferred thinking for herself and making her own choices. Sabine uttered her vows without second guessing her decision even for a moment. Only couple of months into their life together, Olivier informed her that museum was sending him to Africa, and more than eager to embark on this adventurous trip, Sabine escorted her husband to another continent. They were happy in Africa, life never boring as there was always something going on, always something that needed to be done. She loved it there in Tanzania, almost to the point of coming to think of Africa as her second home, studying the history of the region, observing the local tribes and learning about their cultures, while the thoughts of France and the possibility that their marriage probably might not have worked for too long in a less exciting, less adventurous environment was never something she dwelled on for too long. It was good, freedom and adventure that her instincts were craving from the moment they rebelled against the stiflingly strict upbringing, yet it was not meant to last.
Five years flew by, and it was around the time that Sabine suggested they should have a child that Olivier announced he was asked to become a curator at a museum back in Paris. The trip didn’t have to be postponed because of Sabine’s pregnancy, seeing as she was only in the first trimester, so she wished to spend as much time as she could with the natives she came to consider her friends before the impending journey back home. Walking near the outskirts of the local village with one of the women would prove to be a fatal mistake that changed Sabine’s life from that evening onward. Little did either of the women know that a rather peculiar animal was observing and stalking from the distance, too famished to be concerned with anything else but filling its empty stomach. It moved so silently they didn’t even notice it before it was right upon them. Glancing over her shoulder to see what looked like a large leopard advancing on her quickly, Sabine only had a second to turn and attempt to flee before the animal was on top of her, burrowing its large teeth into her shoulder and digging its deadly claws into her lower left hip. Her companion’s scream somehow registered over Sabine’s own, and as she collapsed onto the ground, feeling more stunned than hurt in her shock, and the heavy weight of the creature biting at her shoulder, Sabine heard a gunshot go off an instant before she lost all consciousness. It would be days before she finally opened her eyes, finding herself in a hospital Olivier had rushed her to after locals found him wrapping up final matters at the excavation site he worked on. The staff in the clinic was astounded with how quickly Sabine had recovered let alone survived, but that wasn’t the primary concern of the Claveries at the moment – having learned that she’d miscarried as the attack proved to be too traumatic and damaging, so much that the doctor couldn’t say if she would be able to ever conceive again, Sabine was beyond crushed. Worst, she quickly began exhibiting symptoms of a psychosis.
Everyone thought loss of a child had driven her to insanity, everyone but one of the elderly tribal women by the name of Ainet. She approached Sabine and offered elucidation for her condition, saying she had been possessed by the leopard spirit and gifted with the powers of the said animal. Of course, Sabine did not believe in the old woman’s explanation completely, the mystical side of it too fantastical and ridiculous, but there was no denying that some parts of it were proving to be true. The world was becoming sharper, as were all of her senses, and she found herself craving for things she could not even begin to specify. Some incomprehensible haze lingered over Sabine’s consciousness, intensifying the fatter the moon got. She still can’t say how exactly she endured that feverish state without deciding to end her own suffering once and for all, but Ainet’s words and guidance were of immense help. Olivier certainly did not know how to cope with his wife seemingly slipping out of touch with reality with each passing day, but when he caught glimpse of her true condition during the night of the full moon, that changed everything. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his wife seemingly having a seizure upon the floor, or the sickening sound of relocating bones and ripping of clothing as Sabine’s body started changing shape... transforming into a large cat. He jumped and fled in horror, which was probably a good thing since who knows what would’ve happened had he stayed by her side. Chaos that took over her body overwhelmed Sabine’s mind as well, and that utterly excruciating, inexplicable agony was the last thing she recalled before the black out. It was early morning when she awoke, naked and sweaty, unsure of where exactly she was, but after some wondering she realized she was couple of kilometers away from the remote cottage Ainet had insisted they transfer her too. She now understood why; no one she could’ve attacked lived in vicinity.
Olivier left, unable to see the woman in her, but only the beast he witnessed the night of the full moon. Staying for a while so she would learn better control over herself, sharpen her instincts and senses, she knew that she needed to make a new life for herself. And a new name. Sabine Shanton meandered off into the wilderness one day and disappeared, allegedly gone completely mad from the loss of a child and the husband who abandoned her, and was presumed dead because no fragile European woman could survive Africa on her own. She was twenty five, and her life was changed forever. The next fourteen years were spent traveling the world, bettering herself in various ways while looking for more of her kind, and eventually she heard of Aldenville – a city that word under the street said had more preternaturals that most other. Having acquired another identity for herself in the meantime, now known as Artemis Renard, she was prepared to resurface and build something resembling a normal life, not a trace of French accent present in her timbre. She joined the police academy, graduating among the top of her class, her quick mind, sharp instincts and acute senses that helped her read people easier aiding her in advancing her career, reaching the rank of homicide detective recently. Underneath that exterior, however, is a wereleopard who is not too keen on the idea of the world finding out about the preternaturals stalking the streets, and does what she must to ensure the status quo is maintained. Recently the balance had shifted somewhat, when the damn nosy, human
detective discovered too much, yet to Artemis’ surprise, he doesn’t seem to have shared this knowledge with his superiors. If the lack of national guard summoned to handle the ‘freaks’ in their midst is any sort of indication. Cautious by nature, Artemis is still waiting on the axe to fall. Sample Roleplay