The First Age

The Regus’ gaze swept across the assembled throng of the Atharim. Expectant eyes looked back up at him. In some, he saw mere curiosity. In others he saw excitement. And in others, faces that he memorized, fear.

He never considered himself a public speaker. His life up to now had been too solitary, too used to speaking to individuals or small groups. The Regus of the Atharim, of the Vatican Historical Society, was not a public position. Yet for what he would forge the Atharim into, they would adopt his vision as their own. He would make them believe by speaking truth from his heart. They had spent thousands of years hunting the easy prey, creatures whose evil was visible for all to see. They had grown accustomed to the ease of this hunt because the TRUE DANGER was eradicated millennia ago. They had lost their edge. Their understanding of the terrible suffering and wars between man and gods forgotten. He had not forgotten. It was the mandate of the Regus to constantly sharpen the Atharim so that they were always ready to carve evil from the world no matter its form. That work began anew today.

“My sons and daughters. Look around you. The might of the Athari are here today. Atharim. ‘Remnant.’ Do you remember that you ARE but a remnant? A remnant of a devotion that saved the world from annihilation?” He paused long enough to study which faces among the crowd nodded and which spines stiffened. “Do you even remember what it means to be Atharim? You should. For some, the rites were recent undertakings. For others, they exist in distant memory. But you should remember as clearly as I recall mine.” He lifted his left arm, and although he did not bare the skin beneath his sleeve, the symbol that united them should pierce every mind in the room.

”To be Atharim is to keep the world safe. We keep the darkness at bay because we are the only light in a world dying in darkness. His voice dropped, disappointed. ” And you don’t even see it.” As intended, the room was silent. “I am going to remind you why we fight. Why we die. Why we sacrifice. Why we are eager to be the hand that offers light to an ungrateful world. Long ago, WE were slaves. Mankind was enslaved. WE groaned under the lash of the immortal gods. WE suffered at their capricious whims. Men and women and children died at a thought. Cities were razed without care.”

Armande’s control was impeccable, but in this moment he allowed his voice to harden, allowed them to see his fury and rage. “The gods were spoiled children, taking or destroying whatever came up into their corrupt hearts. They fought over lands and people like cheap prizes, heedless of the suffering and death and destruction they caused. They very nearly destroyed the world.”

“Why? Why did they do it?” His blue eyes and words blazed. This was it, the core, the heart of why the Atharim were necessary. The words were ripped from his throat. “Mankind cannot touch the power of God and remain human for long! Corruption. It will Come!”

He watched the reactions. Firm acceptance; hesitance; flat disbelief. He snorted. “Do you doubt me? Would you recall the mythologies of the past to me? Prometheus? Ea? Amana? Olorun? Other SO-CALLED protectors of mankind?”

The sword needed to be recast. The dross had to be skimmed off. The weak burned away. “You do not have the luxury to study the histories as I have. You sacrifice your time serving in the field. So allow me to remind you the truth of some of these stories.” He let himself to wax lyrical, extolling and praising.

”Ra. That great protector of Egypt. Ra, so loved and revered by his people. Over the centuries his titles grew. The Father of his people. Slayer of Apep, of chaos. Creator. The Aten, the life giving sun shining in full glory at noon. The Bearer of the Shepherd’s Crook and the Flail over the Upper and Lower Nile. The Lord of the Two Lands.” He let the accumulated titles wash over them, accentuating the position this god had ascended to. ”This god who touched the power of God, as the centuries passed, even he was not immune. ‘The Book of the Heavenly Cow’, carefully and reverently preserved in Hieratic, tells the tale As the centuries passed, he grew displeased with his children. He grew impatient with their imperfection. He sought vengeance against those he considered his enemies. And he unleashed his own daughter Sekhmet, the Eye of Ra, to execute judgement. ‘Lady of the Bloodbath.’ ‘The Devouring One.’ ‘The Terrible One.’ This daughter of this protector god slaughtered those very same worshipers, bathed in and drank their blood like the Countess Bathory herself, until it covered the land. Ra himself, upon learning of the extent of the carnage, became fearful that no one would survive. But she was too powerful, an inexorable angel of suffering and death. Ra had to trick her to get her to stop, spiking the blood she drank with an intoxicant. And for centuries, the worshipers of Sekhmet reenacted this story in their temples, on their Porch of Drunkenness.”

”This is but one in thousands of such deplorable examples. Mankind simply cannot be allowed the power of a god. No matter their good intentions, no matter how long they hold out, they always succumb to the temptation. We CANNOT allow the gods to return. For thousands of years, we have been all that has stood between slavery and death, life and freedom. But now we have drawn close to the crossroads of time. The forces of evil and darkness grow on every side. YOU know this. You’ve seen this, all of you! It is undeniable! More dark creatures proliferate than ever before. The Ijiraq have been awakened after millennia. Draikana and Oni multiply. Something new and unknown lurks deep in the Moscow tunnels. The vile Naga have come out of hiding without fear. All of these are signs, harbingers of the greatest danger the world has ever faced. Apollyon the Destroyer himself walks the earth. And the reborn gods sprout up like weeds at his feet.”

He looked at various faces sharply. “The danger is too great, the risk too high, the cost too precious. We will not abdicate our holy responsibilities now! We must not lose sight of our sacred duty, now, when it is so vital, when the danger has never been greater. The gods HAVE returned. They WILL multiply. They WILL enslave you. It has already begun. Look at the land we are in. Twenty years was all it took for one god to conquer Europe and Asia. And if you think he has not yet enslaved you, you are wrong. The Germans believed in Hitler too, and the world paid for their naivete. But we still have a chance. The gods are still scattered, still few in numbers. If we don’t act now, the cost will be infinitely higher later.” Roaring like a lion, “I. Will. Not let them terrorize the world again. Never again. ”

As his speech ended, he felt the eyes of his children bore into him. He sensed their hunger for a vision, and he their glorious father feeding them what they needed. The Atharim would be as one again. The remnant would be whole and pure. He stilled his heart and his emotions as they threatened to race with excitement while his fire blue gaze danced from person to person until it alighted on one individual. In that one face he did not see adulation, and he felt his eyes narrow. The haze he was looking through was gone. He still saw many with the same heart and mind as him. But here and there he saw something else. He ground his teeth. Their time would come. Oh yes it would. Righteous justice burned in his chest. It was time for the traitor. He turned his head and looked at Martin, nodding slightly.

As the rest of the throng took their seats Aurora caught sight of a few people she had not expected to see. John walked in Aurora did a double take. What the...

But John was hardly the biggest surprise, there had been a knowing something about him the whole time, he never once called her crazy despite his misdirection. But the man whom she'd met with Sebastian. Holy! She prayed that Bas had not given away too much, or herself. Living hell! She'd healed Sebastian in front of the man, it wasn't visible healing, he hadn't had injury that closed, but she'd used the power in front of another Atharim.

And the Regus began to speak and Aurora knew the world was about to end.

Aurora fought to keep her emotions in check, the Regus spoke of Gods long past of corruption cause by the power of their reign. And here two or more sat in the middle of this throng, her heart sank, but she stared at the Regus praying that there was no indication of what she was on her face.

Aria's hand snunk over the back of her brother's chair and touched her shoulder lightly. The world seemed to calm, she felt more herself, the fear and the worry left in a wash of something. Aurora leaned forward and looked at Aria. She calmly watched the Regus, her secret was know to him, yet she sat there unmoved by his words. Aurora leaned back and Aria's hand found her shoulder again. The world calmed and Aurora let it. She didn't fight the calm Aria offered. She put her hand on Aria's and the world felt better, the three of them would survive if they stuck together, she was certain of that. Aria would be an asset, she had to be.

But her terror filled her inside. Despite the calming affect it did not drench her soul into calm, it fought her and the calm Aria offered. It made Aurora doubt herself, her career, the path to which she should follow. There was only one way out of this alive, and that was to leave it before she was entwined forever in it's grasp, but Nox he was already entwined, he lacked all the the tattoo on his left arm.

Aurora wished for Aria's talent only for a moment, to find the emotions of others around her, to know what others felt, if the Regus' fanatcism would be the end of her life. There was doubt in the calm, but she knew that it was only on the inside. She knew her secret was safe for now.


Edited by Aurora, Jan 19 2015, 11:43 AM.

Aurora sat down with them and he grinned at his sister. There was little time for chit chat as the Regus took his stage. He was as regal looking as the night he'd met him in initiation. Granted that was just a day he'd rather not think on. Nox had stood in the presence of the man who was now speaking on killing Gods because of what could happen. History didn't repeat itself, or so the scientists say, at least not in the same pattern.

The Atharim believed differently, he remember some snippets of lore from his childhood, when his father taught them from the books instead of on the hunt. He hated it, he hadn't liked it much then and he despised it now. Thankfully both Aurora and Aria took care of most of that. He was left to be the grunt, to do the work instead. That suited him just fine.

Aria never took her eyes off of the Regus, but she carefully moved his arm from her shoulder to her leg and put her arm around him. At first he thought it was a come on, but he felt her hand snake across the back of his chair, it was soft and tender and meant to look like she was vying for his attention to touch him, but her hand rested softly on Aurora's and her other hand placed upon his and there was doubt in his mind that Aurora was freaking out under that cool exteriors.

He grinned as his sister leaned forward enough to see Aria. The girl still stared straight ahead but she shared her strength with them. They were gods among the might of the Atharim. It would not do them any good to show that they were anything but loyal. There was no fear, there was nothing other than loyalty. Nox smiled gratefully as he listened to the demise of Ra. He watched as the Regus turned to nod to the men in black. Aria's reaction was blank. Aurora sat calmly with Aria's hand on her shoulder. It looked natural, Nox patted Aria's leg and his sister's. It was good to know that Aria watched out for them, both of them. Maybe this would work even with the rise of zealots among the very society they rebelled against.


Edited by Nox, Jan 19 2015, 11:58 AM.

Well ain't Reggie just adorable when he gets all fired up
, Seth thought to himself, barely suppressing a smirk as the leader of the Atharim finished his speech. It was all a show. Maybe the old world needed a yearly pep talk or something, but as far as Seth was concerned it was all old news. The Gods were returning. Most of the old worlders were out killing kids over magic tricks, not sitting around giving speeches about it.

Killing kids over magic tricks
. It wasn't exactly funny that that's what the Atharim were coming to. Killing monsters was easy. There wasn't no saving a rougarou or some poor bastard who'd been nabbed by a wefuke. Made it easy to take the shot.

It was different with people. Reggie was asking for something ugly. And Seth wasn't quite sure it was right, neither.

By the time everyone was in their seats Aria was fighting the extreme pressure of so many people who felt things. Everyone was pushing in on her, it had been years since Aria had taken part in mass in the Vatican. She always choose to go when the priest was preforming for the nuns and other priests for the week.

But it was her friends that she focused on. Aurora was not doing so well, her emotions were all over the place. Fear and anxiety permeated her sense so close. Nox was only slightly better, but he was good at putting on a show, he did that on a daily basis, his stupid grin plastered on his face.

His arm was around her, not possessively and not as if he were wanting more, he was casual in everything he did. She'd have smiled if the bubble around would not make it look far more dangerous than it was. Aria moved Nox's hand. He was pliable, he let her move it. She held his hand though, it was a comfort to her, something to focus on. She reached across his chair and made sure it looked as it had when he'd done it to her. More than it really was. Aria could feel Nox's emotions heighten at the possibility, but his grin said he had understood. She leaned against him and put her hand on Aurora's shoulder. It would not do for either of the godlings to show their true nature to the Regus, even if that was just general fear.

She calmed them, and focused on Nox's presence, his ever jovial expression, it was not the same as finding Dane in the crowded room or sitting below in the shop, but it would do, Nox was predicable if nothing else.

They sat and watched as the Regus rallied against the gods. It would not end well, not in the end, something was going to break. And Aria prayed it was not her and her friends.


Edited by Aria, Jan 19 2015, 01:00 PM.

Hood remained standing, off to one side of the room; he still thought of himself as an odd guest to this little pow-wow, but it was an interesting chance to get a glimpse at how the Atharim worked. Equally interesting, an insight to Atharim world history. He had a conventional, 'normal' education after all, which was a bit different then what the hunters seemed to learn. But, he supposed, history was written by the winners, and in this case, that had been the Atharim. Or perhaps the Church, with whom they seemed to work.

The Regus' speech pressed on, and there was no denying he held the attention of most everyone in the room. The man was certainly charismatic in his own way; of course, so had Hitler been. An unfair comparison, but the first that came to mind. But there were a few in the crowd who seemed a bit put-off by the man's words, or at the least the intent of them. The fellow was damnably opposed to corruption and sin, it seemed. He'd never much liked the religiously fanatical types. But at least these ones were fanatical towards a real, physical thing which almost warranted it. Monsters and evil wizard-gods was a viable danger.

A chance to put a few more Iirjaq back to the dust from which they came was the only thing that raked with his move to Moscow from the Middle East. He was pretty sure they were a bit more common down that way. Or maybe they were just in Africa. He had no clue honestly. The 'porch of drunkenness' caused a hint of a smirk for Hood. How often had he sat on his own porch to choke down a beer or two? Who knew it was some old Egyptian cult practice?

And then there was the big reveal. The Baltimore, Maryland native, 'conqueror' of most of the better parts of the world, Nikolai mother-fuckin' Brandon himself, probably didn't have a team of very skilled plastic surgeons keeping him young. It also ruled out Zoolander's (a dead team mate of Hoods) theory of Earl Grey tea. The guy had been a bit of a Trekker. Trekkie. Whatever.

Practically speaking, Hood understood the man's motivations. No doubt about it that power corrupted. Was pretty much a given. Except himself, of course, but that was because he was fucking awesome. But power corrupted everyone, not just crazy bull-shit magic using wizard dorks. Fuck, religion could corrupt just as much as power. Look at the nutbars that were, as per tradition it seemed, tearing the shit out of the Middle East because some stupid book written a billion and a half years ago said so.

Hood's previous life spun around putting bullets into people because of what they might do. Whether it was signing a trade agreement with the CCD, or altering government policies to favor a future merger with the Custody. He wasn't about to put a bullet in some magic using short-order cook or librarian just because they might go wacko some day. Now, the ones that were already wacko...hell, they might be enough of a challenge to warrant the effort. Could be fun.

And, it seemed from the looks on the faces of a few people in the room, some felt the same way. But they were actually Atharim; he doubted they had the privilege to pick and choose their jobs. Well, whatever the case, it wasn't his place to be suggesting any policy changes for an organization that predated recorded history. Or whatever the hell their case was. He'd still work with them. Killing monsters was, after all, far more interesting then offing some dick-headed African president or CCD middle-management businessmen. Those policy changes were up to the ones that didn't seem quite so blood-thirsty to off whatever poor sod what had magic.

Martin stood off to the side and behind the Regus in all his glory. The other ten Inquisitors were arrayed across the stage behind the man, weapons hidden in the folds of their robes. He didn't expect any trouble, but the Regus was clear. Any hint of rebellion would not be tolerated, especially once he began with Stone.

The words the Regus spoke reverberated through Martin's body, to hunt Gods! It was his true calling. And he was to lead the fight against them. It was an honor that the Regus had chosen him oh so long ago, but it was now that Martin was the most proud.

He'd killed every manor of monster, godlings included. But they were weak and new and nothing like Apollyon. He hated the fact that the little Sentient girl was to have first crack at the man behind the CCD and all of its power. But she would die, he would see to it. But not before he took every ounce of usefulness from her hide. Born and trained Atharim, to hunt the monsters themselves, to track. She had hidden well amongst the Atharim as Furia despite her apparent true self.

The Regus looked to him and in his black robe and hood he waved a hand and two other black robed inquisitors brought forth Father Stone. He looked smug as ever, but the bruises on his face made his smug look pained. Martin wished he'd been there when the traitor had tried to escape. But such was life.

But Martin had to give it to the man, Father Stone pulled from his captor's hands and walked uncoerced to where he knew to stand. It had not been rehearsed, but the man was stubborn and confident in his own right. He knelt on the ground, Martin knew the man would not plead for his life, he'd given up the fight, he knew the Regus' wrath. Anyone who stayed in Moscow knew the Regus' wrath. A missing brother was cause for rumors, and most only even hinted at the capability of the man that lead them. Martin knew him before the office. Martin knew the man that stood at the head of their table. He knew the capacity he held to lead and to do what needed doing.

Armande folded his hands behind his back as his hard blue eyes drifted over the audience. Peripherally he was aware of the array of Inquisitors behind him; of the traitor’s arrival. Borovsky was nothing if not efficient. He would do well as Head of the First Canticle. The faces he saw were somber. His words had had an effect on them, though obviously in different ways for each one. Which was exactly the point. The winnowing of the chaff had already begun.

Stone, surprisingly, seemed to walk to his position of his own volition. There was no struggle, no plea for mercy. Stoic. Well at least the man would die with dignity. Unlike Punit, who’d died as an entitled child unable to curb his desires for the greater good. Pure waste.

The man knelt at his feet, hands bound, facing the crowd. The Regus’ cold gaze passed over them once more. The looks on most of their faces indicated that they knew what was going to happen. Good. The Atharim and those who worked with them would know this was a war. Treason was punishable by death. No quarter would ever be given.

”Father Stone has been found guilty of the following. Siring a reborn god. Conspiring to hide her once her true nature had manifested itself. Falsifying and deleting records. And physically interfering with another hunter in their pursuit.” His voice was cold and sterile. This was not vengeance. It was not passion. It was justice, pure and true.

He pulled a black silk hood from one of the pockets of his cassock. He moved slowly and deliberately as he draped it over the man’s head. Nothing showed on his hard face as he pulled the knotted silken rope out. In his mind, though, a memory came to him. The day he had become the Regus, with the ceremonial strangling of his two Atharim brethren by the Pope to seal away the knowledge of the connection between them. It was a holy memory, a covenant made in the old way, with the taking of a life.

This was a different sort of covenant. It was a reaffirmation, a rededication to what it meant to be Atharim. But like all holy covenants, it would be sealed in blood. ”For this treason and the danger he knowingly placed all of mankind in, he is sentenced to death.”

The silken cord went around his neck and the Regus Armande Nicodemus pulled it tight, his still strong muscles taut. The only sound that could be heard was the muffled movements of the man as he involuntarily struggled and tried to moan. Time seemed to draw out and his own blood pulsed in his ears. Armande’s eyes were blue ice as they watched his audience. No expression of any kind showed on his face. Only the drumming of Stone’s feet and sudden slump said he was dead, but he continued to hold the cord tight for another slow count of sixty. Finally, he let go and pulled his cord free as the lifeless body slumped to the side.

He stepped back and two Inquisitors came and dragged it away. ”We.are.Atharim. We are ‘The Remnant.’ The last ones DEDICATED to the preservation of the human race from slavery and death. This is a war. Treason, aiding and abetting the enemy, is punishable by death. As it always has been. We will not lose sight of why we are here. Nor will we turn a blind eye to the danger this world now lies in. The gods will NOT retake their place over us. Never again. Apollyon the Destroyer does not frighten us. WE are the Athari! WE stand for humanity! And WE WILL WIN!”

He would accept nothing less.

Father Stone came up on stage in custody, two black robed men pulling him along and then finally letting him go as he walked the rest of the way to his death. Aria shifted slightly in her chair. That was not a good thing. Nothing about Father Stone had been good, he hated her, but Aria didn't wish him dead.

The Regus set down the charges, none but the last were knew to her. The corner of her mouth quirked in half smile, they'd found him because of her. Aria closed her eyes as the Regus put the black bag of her his head. Aria focused on Father Stone and the Regus, became one with both, their emotions hers. How she had wanted to kill Father Stone herself.

Aria could almost feel her hands around Father Stone's neck as he took his lasts breaths. His emotions played out as all dying men did. Aria relished in the thoughts, and the feelings. It took her a moment to realize Nox was whispering to her. "Snap out of it."


She looked at him, he didn't grin, he was concerned, she smiled at him to thank him, but the memory lingered and she knew it could have been worse. Aria panicked slightly wondering if she'd shared with her friends what she'd been feeling. Nox put his arm around her and she instintivly pulled her to her side. He leaned over and whispered "Stop worrying."


Aria took a deep breath and focused on one one, and nothing, the show was likely not over yet.

Things moved quickly, a man whom Nox had meet once was brought on to stage. His so called supervisor, he felt Aria shift in her seat. He didn't take his eyes off of Father Stone, but she knew more than she let on. It made Nox nervous.

He was accused of a great many things, and Nox shivered when he was sentenced. If this is what the Regus did when he found one had betrayed the Atharim by just hiding a girl, what would he do if he found one in their beloved group.

Nox was thankful for Aria's help in that instance, but the calm soon fled, he felt nothing from her, he watched her, her eyes closed, she looked like she was enjoying something far too much. He'd seen the look in her eyes before. He knew that was the exact reason she'd asked him to help her.

He didn't move but whispered to her. "Aria."
He called her names several more times before she acknowledge him with a slight movement. "Snap out of it."
He watched her, she couldn't go bad this soon this early, no. But she smiled at him, he saw the moment of panic fill her eyes and he put his arm around her. "Stop worrying."
He grinned and turned his attention back to the front. There was a lot to take in. He was freaking out on the inside, he knew that hiding in plain sight was probably his best option. But the world just became a very dangerous place and Nox was sitting in the heart of the bee hive that the Regus had just kicked over.