Artemis

"I'm not sure whether I'd rather be his patient or enemy." -Field Cook Shrouded in shadows of his own design, his disposition is as coarse as the cobblestones upon which he was first abandoned. Yet from the gutter he writhed his way up through the festering dredges of society, carving a name for himself as a talented physician. Today he's known as Artemis, the Sanguine Surgeon. From the moment he entered his field, his pursuit of medical mastery was obsessive, almost sacred. Patients were mere vessels for his experiments, their suffering a trivial price for progress. Indeed, Artemis's cures were miraculous, but his methods? Morally grotesque. After Artemis began theorizing that necrotic tissue could be synthesized into a potent healing serum, whispers began to swirl when the earth of the local cemetery appeared disturbed, graves desecrated under the cloak of darkness. The locals were horrified, until his theories proved true. With his treatment of a noble's incurable ailment, Artemis was promoted to court physician with unfettered access to fresh corpses. The prestige satiated his ambitions temporarily, until a new, insidious plague provided the perverse stimulation his dark heart craved. Necrotic tissue would not be the key to stemming the tide of corruption. For this, the Surgeon would require blood from those above ground. From the depths of the dungeons, prisoners were hauled to his chamber, their pleas smothered by the thick walls. Then came the screams. Results manifested in a single vial of petrified blood- one which inhibited corrupt cells from reproducing, and which could be replicated with simpler alchemic methods. By this time, Artemis had worn out his welcome with the locals, who'd grown terrified of the enigmatic physician, clamoring for his head on the guillotine. Fair enough, thought he, now yearning to test his new concoction in the fiery crucible of battle. Donning a plague mask of old to render himself anonymous, he slipped away to an abandoned workshop where he could tinker in peace. The fruit of his labor took shape in the form of a revolutionary syringe rifle which could cycle between his healing serum and petrified blood by the flick of a switch. With a grin concealed beneath his macabre mask, Artemis has taken to the front lines to test his new weapon, a harbinger of both salvation and doom. Should you ever find yourself sharing the trenches with the Sanguine Surgeon, take heed not to anger him, lest he pump you with the wrong dose.