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Kid Arty almost turns to look about the room—but reminds herself to keep eye-contact, and not look back at the deadly words. “So if the powers abandoned, why… and how long were y—?” Arty has heard of immortals. They’re supposedly common where she’s from. “Well… what do you do here? Like for fun, or for food?”
The Kid isn’t sure what to do with all of this information— “Thank you.” —other than show some gratitude to those who gave it. “It must be overwhelming… to k ow the cause of the corrupt fluid, but there isn’t much we can do about it, is there? I mean, you can’t tell evil people to stop being evil because it pollutes the water. If they cared, they wouldn’t be doing evil stuff in the first place.” Being a naiad, Arty probably cares about clean water more than most. Step away from the soapbox, she tells herself. “So what are we even doing here? Did I kill that guy for nothing?”
The Kid replies, “We don’t know, and what bothers me particularly is that the men we asked answered with arrows. I tried sparing them, despite being jabbed by their pointy sticks. But the second one I shot in the leg was hit in the femoral artery. “Just because I killed in self-defense, doesn’t mean I feel good about it. I sure as hell ain’t a hero! I never killed a person before today, and it sucks.” She looks at the taller man, not with anger, but humility. By killing, Arty questions whether she’s really any better than the aunt she’s named for. “I really appreciate your partner giving us straight answers whether we deserve them or not. Please… educate us.”
Happy Thanksgiving everyone ^^ Same to you!
Kid Artemis isn’t really sure how to handle that feeling she had. The pain was physical, but the memory triggered was her brothers and sisters being shot dead by arrows from the sky. Artemis spared the girls physical pain. But it was still painful to see one after the other fall into eternal slumber. The corpses appeared to be sleeping, except for the bloodied chitons and hairdos, depending whether the archer-goddess struck the heart or the head. Don’t look, Tim says. Arty’s mind’s-eye focuses on the worst moment of her life. From the way Tim and 11T7 are reacting, the strange words will hurt more than her memory.
Arty’s robe fluffs up a bit as she falls, seemingly in slow motion. Her boots touch the ground noiselessly. She offers a hand to the woman who carried her (not the she needs help up). She might pull me down by accident with those arms. The Kid plants her feet, for safety’s sake. “I don’t know why these words sadden me. I can’t read them. Can you?” Her question is directed at the cat!
“Eep!” Arty is not entirely surprised that Suzuka can carry her so effortlessly. But there’s still a difference between expecting and experiencing. “So I just… stay like this, right?” By ‘this’ she means dangling limply while being carried like a …sportsball.
—and once she has a solid stance against the wind, she lunges forward!
But how long can I keep this up… and that damned serpent is immense!
The Kid gets blown around! “Crud muffiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnmnmns!”
It’s painful and humiliating, but she’ll charge forward if she can get her boots back on the ground!
“That green stuff is NOT water. It’s not natural.” She spider-steps across the ceiling and through the hole, and loops her silk rope so it can drop far enough to almost reach the surface of the mystery liquid. “Would any of you like to examine that stuff? I’m not sure we can survive being submerged in that, or if we can even safely touch it. Maybe if those elves were a little more conversational…” She seems angry at them, but truthfully, she’s ashamed of her lack of control. She took a life. That she was first wounded by the guy is little excuse.
The Kid secures her silk rope about her waist leaving only twelve feet of slack (which she can adjust). She can’t regnome—but her limber body slips through the hole. She spider-steps onto the ceiling and shoots her grappler arrow into a spot about a yard ahead of her.
It sticks! Her stunt is quite an elegant spectacle, except that Arty’s hyberboreal robe does not defy gravity the way her body does. But before the hem has time to flop gracelessly over her face, the Kid pushes off the ceiling and swings on her rope. Once upright, with the rope reasonably still for others to soon descend, Arty will adjust the rope so she can lower herself close to the liquid and find out what it is.
"3√2 > 4" It explains. “Barely,” says Arty who’s good at math but not really sure what the inequality has to do with anything. She takes out the grappling arrow, which has a silk rope attached.
It’s basically a grappling hook designed to be used with a bow. It cost 1g, and I thought it was reusable. But if I can get a reusable one for 2g, that’s fine.
When we resupply, I’ll do that.
“Hey,” Artemis says with a friendly wave as Suzuka effortlessly catches up—though unlike the oni, the Kid needs to grab onto her rope before making another vertical stride!
The Kid climbs fast, hoping not to kill again.
The Kid attaches a grappling arrow to a rope, and looses it.
“Going up?” she asks, as she climbs her own rope. She will leave it for others who may need it.
Artemis feels bad about the groin shot; worse about the death. I’m still not HER, she tells herself. My sisters were unarmed. The excuses make her no less a hypocrite. Admitting to hypocrisy brings her aunt no closer to forgiveness. “If you can’t get in, I’ll be forced to shoot the other one.” She waits by the tower hoping she won’t have to.
The Kid remains in position. She shoots.
“I only miss because I hope to spare you,” she says to the deaf elf, “despite your failure to reciprocate the courtesy.” Her words seem to focus her next shot.
That’s how you do it. Don’t become the very thing you hate.
Kid Arty rushes the foe by the tree!
But her attempt to show mercy results in a wide shot!
Kid Artemis tries to shoot down the elf without killing him.
Upon Tim’s words, Arty mentally prepares herself to slide bow from shoulder.
Artemis nods back, and softly asks the elf if he speaks Sylvan. She’ll watch for signs of patience before playing Language Roulette.
Artemis is feeling a bit sheepish that a elf wearing more white than a virgin bride slipped by her. Pretty sly for a white guy, she has to admit. Beaten at her own game, the huntress comes out of hiding to assist Tim. “Tim knows fashion. It is an amazing look.”
“You can call me Artemis. Pleasure to meet you.” Well, so she hopes. A guardian of the spire posted here to kill upon the breaking of an unwritten rule would be decidedly unpleasant to meet. My aunt would have shot him just in case. Or for being male. Or if his mother insulted her mother.
Kid Artemis reports her findings to 11T7, but before she has time to ask of next steps, Suzuka struts by… and up! The Kid just gapes, eyes wide as her slack jaw. It’s not just her breasts that defy gravity.
Kid Artemis moves out, trusting the cat will relay messages. She peers into the darkness within the spire. She is suppressing the Light spell for now.
Kid Artemis is surprised about how shy the oni is. She smiles warmly. “Do you happen to know that Message spell I was talking about? I’m gonna scout ahead, and I might need someone to talk to. You’re soft spoken and a woman of few words, which is perfect.” The Kid does a backflip—
She lifts a boot, amused by its lacking imprint. “And so is this spell. No footprints!”
Kid Artemis blushes at the touch, and derides herself as ‘worse than a man’ for catching herself staring. Okay, Aura… now I get why you felt boy-chested next to my aunt, she says silently to her goddess. “Thank you, Suzuka,” she says (aloud, but softly) as she realizes what the spell does!
It is said that nymphs are beautiful, such that to gaze upon on would blind any man or woman. As for Meliboea… she is certainly easy on the eyes, graceful, delicate with a hint of muscle tone… but if one’s eyes should linger, it’s not because she is an irresistible temptress. She is simply, apparently, not of this world. Her clothing is a feathered robe—the epitome of fashion among Hyperborean nymphs! Hemmed atop the knee, cascading from the left shoulder leaving the right bosom exposed—or it would if not for the modest breastband. The robe, everything on her from boots to bow, and her physical features as well just scream ‘earthy crunchy.’ Eyes like clearwater, hair brown as a riverbed, flesh tan like beachsand smoothed by a gentle wave… This is not one of Aphrodite’s voluptuous playmates. This is an Artemisian huntress. A naiad, an archeress, a pure maiden. And if you were to ask her if she’s as pure as the virgin goddess herself…? I’m better than her. That’s what Meliboea would say. And don’t call me by that name. I took a vow. It’s Kid Artemis… I’ll be the Artemis I believed in, but not for her. I’ll do it for my slain sisters, my goddess Aura, my mentor Callisto, and every other nymph and girl my aunt failed! * * * * * Again, Artemis wakes with a heavy heart, a prayer to Aura, and a stifled urge to pray to her aunt. She only answers with arrows and lies.
Kid Artemis offers to move close. “If any of you wanna cast Message on me, or Light on my arrow’s feather, I’ll wait. And then I’m gonna scout ahead a bit.” She smiles pleasantly. That always worked for Aphrodisians. If no one objects to scouting…
…the sneaky nymph moves into position for a close look at the spire. How DO we get in? And is anyone here? Would they object to our presence?
But only one if I move more than five feet, right?
I may have to re-learn this character. I don’t even know how many arrows she can shoot.
I rewrote the backstory. Some warnings, facts and embellishments:
• There are now two classic paintings. Callisto’s exile has nudity galore.
• I used actual myths, and believe it or not, I toned down the lipstick lesbianism. I left out Aura’s groping, and I make it a habit not to use the R-word, but Aura and Callista were both victims of Dionysius and Zeus, respectively. • In the Niobe myth, 12-14 (of 14) children die in various circumstances, but in the case any is spared, the girl is consistently Meliboea. She changed her name over the trauma (not to Kid Artemis of course, but to Chloris, meaning “pale one”) and she went on to win a foot-race. The what-didn’t-kill-her-made-her-stronger aspect made me want to be truer to the myth. • I think the statue of her near the shrine to Leto might be a real life statue, but I embellished by making the statue real, and making it the reason my character idolizes Artemis until her own hero murders her sisters. • I don’t know at what point Callisto realized it was Zeus, not Artemis. I ran with the idea of her being naive and believing Artemis could… partially shape-shift??? I mean, it explains why she’s naked and showing off her pregnant belly as opposed to fleeing or telling Artemis what her father did. Callisto was the favorite. _____
“The Kid and the Goddess”: THIS is what divine retribution looks like: My brothers screaming until their souls evacuate their arrow-ridden bodies. My sisters sleeping, never to wake again. Me clinging to my mother, wondering how my heart can hurt so much without an arrow in it. And my great aunt whom I’d loyally worshipped throughout my childhood informing me that I’m spared, like she did me some kind of favor. I should’ve told her to suck her brother’s swinging dick. Instead, I sobbed loudly, half fearing she’d change her mind. Half hoping. * * * * * My name is Meliboea, daughter of Niobe, who was sentenced to a fate worse than death by her own grandfather. That would be Zeus, king the most corrupt pantheon of all. I followed Artemis because she was supposed to be the one good Olympian. The untainted, incorruptible virgin, pure as the driven buIIshit. She’s the worst of them. At least the others are open about their abuses of power. Only Artemis calls herself the protector of young girls, then betrays the girls who love her the most. After my siblings were slaughtered, I wandered a lot, wondering what to do. Revenge? Yeah… my dad said something about that. Arrows rained from the high noon sun. There weren’t even ashes left to mourn. One cool moonless night, I followed the river Sangarios and discovered a spring. The water was so warm under the gentle wind. I bonded with the water—it’s… a naiad thing—hard to explain. I was at peace. But I was not alone. The water formed into a shape. A slender titan made of water. Oh. Titaness. Her chest is quite boy-like and Her jawline… Anyway, she introduced Herself as Aura the Windmaid. Well… she was a maid. Of course I asked about the “was.” The way she said it… “I was in the bath with Artemis, and… a bit jealous. She has such perfect breasts, like you child.” I sank into the spring a bit. Reflex action. And futile. The water is so clear. At least the part of the water not forming into a giant lady. “Oh, I don’t mean to offend. I’m just so homely and I thought your great aunt would understand, what with all her plus-sized Hyperborean friends. But she took offense at my fixation upon her beauty, and shortly after our falling out Dionysius came to me smelling of booze and…” The goddess wept. I walked to Her and embraced Her lower shin. I would’ve lent Her a shoulder to cry on—did She have to be fifty feet tall? * * * * * Aura said it wasn’t too late for me. I found that hard to believe when a friggin’ BEAR plunged into the spring with me! “Please don’t freak,” the bear said in a motherly voice. I remained calm. I was, after all, bathing in my goddesses water form. Not the best place to pee in fear. The bear introduced herself as Callisto. “But you can call me Callie. And did you know I used to call your great aunt Arty? And we both called you Kid Artemis.” I remember that. When I was three, I posed as child Artemis, seated on Leto’s lap as a statue was made honoring her motherhood. Honoring the concubine of my great grandfather. Honoring the BlTCH who had my family killed. “Callie… I remember you. Weren’t you and Auntie Artemis like…?” I know, I know… virgin goddess. But there were rumors about what really goes on with her and her nymphs. The Hunter Acteon died like a dog trying to confirm them. “I finally had my night with my beloved Artemis. It was my first time, but she was clearly an experienced lover. And when she—” “WHOAH! WHOAH! WHOAH!” said a giant pair of lips formed on the surface of the water. Aura ignored my surprised shriek. “Kid Artemis is innocent. Do skip a bit.” The bear placed her front paws over her belly. “I was proud to have Artemis’ child inside me. But when I announced my pregnancy to the entire retinue, I was exiled! My dear, passionate lover denied our night ever happened, and even had Hera turn me into a bear!” I gave her a hug… or, well, her being the bear, it was more like she hugged me. But she was gentle. * * * * * On the next New Moon, Callie came to me bearing gifts. Bear-ing? Get it? Sorry. The first was a Hyperboreal Robe. “I don’t have a use for it anymore, now that I go around bear-assed. Get it?” Aura blessed the robe with Her aura. “Anyone touches you, pure child, and they shall feel my chill… oh!” Fifty feet tall, and I could tell her eyes were focused on my exposed breast. What’s with Her thing about boobs? “Looks like you’re feeling the chill too. Let’s cover that up.” The goddess splashed me, and suddenly I felt… supported. ”The top should keep you comfy in any temperature,” Callie noted. Then she had me sit on a rock as she laced boots onto my leg with such care, I’m sure my great aunt made her do this all the time. “Boots of the earth. They’ll connect you to the world, no matter what world you’re on.” A wind carried a bow to me. “You won’t harm the innocent the way your great aunt has. This bow is most harmful to evil ones.” Callie then placed a pendant around my neck. It’s called the Maiden’s Promise. “Find a friend. Connect to her, but remain pure. Don’t start kissing and getting each other pregnant.” I promised Callie I would never knock up a girl or let one knock me up, but feeling like I kinda cheated, I added a part. “I’ll take Artemis’ name, like you used to call me. Not out of love or forgiveness. Not out of blasphemy. But as a standard. “I’ll be the Artemis my great aunt was supposed to be.”
Kid Arty’s an archer, yes, but she has Point Blank Master. So she can handle the front line just fine! (And she probably should be frontline at Lv.9. I don’t have precision shot because there are feats that are way more fun, like Spider Step!) ... GM / Curious Peeps: Also, @Delmoth, let me know if you have a problem with me changing Goddess Artemis’ murderousness to make her “gooder.” I stumbled upon a version in which the 7th son and daughter are spared. In this case, my character would not be a fan of Artemis and the nymph who helps her would instead be Callista and her goddess would be the goddess which was raped by Pan.
In other words, I’m happy to rewrite the backstory in a way that’s true to Artemisian mythology. In this case, Kid Artemis is so nicknamed by those scorned by the real Artemis. She takes the name as an affront to Artemis and all of the Olympians, including her grandfather Zeus. Leaving Arborea is more of a voluntary exile in this case!
@Connor, I like it! For anyone who doesn’t know, mine is based on a few Artemisian myths.
Inspiration: • (1) at the age of three, Goddess Artemis received six gifts from her father. This inspired Kid Artemis getting thematic items. I only have five items, so gift #6 is becoming a zen archer monk basically. • (2) Niobe, mother of 14, pissed off Leto by bragging about her kids. It’s a stupid reason to wipe out a family, even by Greek Mythology standards. Artemis becomes a total dick like most Olympians by insta-killing the girls… protecting them from pain. I embellished and made Artemis outwit her dad by actually protecting girls like the self-proclaimed ‘Protector of Young Girls’ actually should. This inspired my +2 bow’s weapon qualities, Merciful and Huntsman. If my character uses Survival to track someone, I can attune to this bow for +2d6 nonlethal vs. target (or +1d6 nonlethal vs. anyone I didn’t track… merciful’s part of the package deal). This is intended for when we want to take someone alive. Not sure we ever will, but for the add’l 8000g, I hope so! • (3) Oupis, Loxo and Hekaerge are the hyperborean nymphs. They fit well with the 7000g “hyperboreal robe,” which delivers cold damage if you touch Arty with intend to harm. The perfect gift from a goddess who demands Her followers remain chaste!
Still need to neaten my profile (with spoiler tags), but I finished the story. The art I linked is mostly clean. Just the 1772 painting has some exposed breasts (as warned in the above post).
Here’s the start. It takes place one year ago instead of ten, since the youngest daughter is too developed to be a 9-year-old, according to the painting that inspired it. (That reminds me: partial-nudity warning.) Niobe’s Seventh Daughter: ONE YEAR AGO… If you believe everything you read, Niobe’s hubris is what brought divine retribution upon her seven sons and seven daughters. That’s me, by the way… clinging to my mother’s leg. You see my brother there, with an arrow lodged through his? That’s Apollo—killed by the very god he was named after. And you see my sisters that lie still, as if only sleeping. They are. The goddess that I was named after wouldn’t kill us. Sure, you might’ve read that her arrows fell us all in a single blow—that we felt no pain, as a mercy. But She is the Protector of Young Girls. She saved us from her idiot brother… ((To be continued…))
I’m working on a backstory that takes place ten years ago. The title: “Niobe’s Seventh Daughter.” ~Lunk/Savi’s player |
