04-30-2015, 01:05 PM
Armande regarded him for a moment, measuring his sincerity. Satisfied, he at last spoke. "Very well. Welcome to the Order of the Archangels." After his dismissal, he sat back and closed his eyes.
Armande Nicodemus felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though he did not allow it to show. Cross and Yoshimura were very different hunters. Effective, true, but not without their challenges to deal with. But that could be said of the best hunters who survived into their later years, including Barovsky and Halverssen. One learned to trust one's own intuition, their own instincts and methodologies.
As he himself did. He did not bend to others. They bent to his will. But he was not a fool. What he was creating would be larger than all of them. It would become the Heart of the Atharim, carrying on their work and spirit through the ages. For the Order to be effective, it needed to be fluidic, adaptive and responsive. Rigidity and ossification would destroy it before it began. He had wanted the best. But their being the best was as much about their minds as their bodies. More so. He would use that.
This First Order was just the beginning. Once the team was in place, trained and working smoothly, they each would form the seed for the others. In his mind's eye he saw it, his army organized into divisions, captained effectively, using the strengths of their members, each endlessly adaptive and responsive to the needs of the mission. And at the top, he would sit, directing the war, the goals of each battle, of each mission, of each skirmish.
The war was coming. It had been foretold. Atharim writings were clear, the warning echoing in the ancient writings of various religions and their eschatology myths. Armageddon. Ragnarok. The end of the Hindu Kali Yuga. The Zoroastrian Frashokereti. The gods would return, the end heralded by one being. Apollyon. The Demon Kali. Ahriman.
But mankind would not be caught unaware. They would be ready. The Regus of the Atharim would make sure of that.
Armande Nicodemus felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though he did not allow it to show. Cross and Yoshimura were very different hunters. Effective, true, but not without their challenges to deal with. But that could be said of the best hunters who survived into their later years, including Barovsky and Halverssen. One learned to trust one's own intuition, their own instincts and methodologies.
As he himself did. He did not bend to others. They bent to his will. But he was not a fool. What he was creating would be larger than all of them. It would become the Heart of the Atharim, carrying on their work and spirit through the ages. For the Order to be effective, it needed to be fluidic, adaptive and responsive. Rigidity and ossification would destroy it before it began. He had wanted the best. But their being the best was as much about their minds as their bodies. More so. He would use that.
This First Order was just the beginning. Once the team was in place, trained and working smoothly, they each would form the seed for the others. In his mind's eye he saw it, his army organized into divisions, captained effectively, using the strengths of their members, each endlessly adaptive and responsive to the needs of the mission. And at the top, he would sit, directing the war, the goals of each battle, of each mission, of each skirmish.
The war was coming. It had been foretold. Atharim writings were clear, the warning echoing in the ancient writings of various religions and their eschatology myths. Armageddon. Ragnarok. The end of the Hindu Kali Yuga. The Zoroastrian Frashokereti. The gods would return, the end heralded by one being. Apollyon. The Demon Kali. Ahriman.
But mankind would not be caught unaware. They would be ready. The Regus of the Atharim would make sure of that.