03-03-2015, 11:08 PM
Joseph 'Seph' Theiss, born in Bern, Switzerland, was, especially in his later years, more scholar then hunter. He had never been among the Atharim's best. There were no stories of his hunts and deeds, no lessons to be taught to the younger generations that could not be better exemplified elsewhere. Not a failure by any stretch, but his martial prowess had simply never stood out. His nickname was a somewhat morbid play on words; after the car accident, surgical errors had led to a life-threatening sepsis infection that had further debilitated his already damaged legs.
Where Seph had been mediocre at best as a hunter, he had shined for his tactical insights and his connections, a skill that may never have come to light had it not been for a depressingly mundane car accident many decades ago. Left unable to walk without a cane, his use to the Atharim in the field had been all but ended.
But rather then fade into obscurity, or take his own life, Seph made use of what of his body still worked. His mind. He studied at Cranford University in the UK long before the disasters that had led to the economic collapses that had eventually brought Europe into the CCD. His impressive performance there had led to an internship and later full membership at the Netherlands Organisation for Applied Scientific Research (TNO for short), a think-tank that among all it's touchy-feely works, also developed new conceptual weapons and their possible implementations in real-world scenarios.
The contacts Seph had developed during nearly two decades with TNO had proven a valuable asset to the Atharim. Weapons developers, suppliers, even smugglers and illegal dealers. Access to government or privately funded research, and a unique insight into applications of weapons that when he had been a boy were mere science fiction.
For all Seph's interest in the cutting edge of weapons technology, he was in some matters a surprisingly techno-phobic individual. Or perhaps simply not one ready to accept that he couldn't push his own damn wheel chair. His legs may have failed him, but his arms were still well within the realm of things he could control.
The door was briefly held open for the elderly man as he carefully maneuvered a modest wheelchair into the room. His assistant respectfully remained in the hall, the simple seeming ironwood cane that Seph had used to navigate any stairs that would have otherwise bar'd his path. Into his early 70s, the old Swiss man had a grandfatherly appearance about him.
He paused at the door after his assistant had closed it, and nodded respecfully to the Regus. "Evenings greetings, Regus. I appologize for my tardiness."
He hoped that the exhaustion of navigating the stairs was not too evident, "High Inquisitor. I offer congratulations for your new post. Although in truth, I am both honoured and concerned to have lived long enough to see the need for it."
At the Regus' permission, Seph would fully enter the room and approach the table, where he might prepare to deliver his presentation.
Where Seph had been mediocre at best as a hunter, he had shined for his tactical insights and his connections, a skill that may never have come to light had it not been for a depressingly mundane car accident many decades ago. Left unable to walk without a cane, his use to the Atharim in the field had been all but ended.
But rather then fade into obscurity, or take his own life, Seph made use of what of his body still worked. His mind. He studied at Cranford University in the UK long before the disasters that had led to the economic collapses that had eventually brought Europe into the CCD. His impressive performance there had led to an internship and later full membership at the Netherlands Organisation for Applied Scientific Research (TNO for short), a think-tank that among all it's touchy-feely works, also developed new conceptual weapons and their possible implementations in real-world scenarios.
The contacts Seph had developed during nearly two decades with TNO had proven a valuable asset to the Atharim. Weapons developers, suppliers, even smugglers and illegal dealers. Access to government or privately funded research, and a unique insight into applications of weapons that when he had been a boy were mere science fiction.
For all Seph's interest in the cutting edge of weapons technology, he was in some matters a surprisingly techno-phobic individual. Or perhaps simply not one ready to accept that he couldn't push his own damn wheel chair. His legs may have failed him, but his arms were still well within the realm of things he could control.
The door was briefly held open for the elderly man as he carefully maneuvered a modest wheelchair into the room. His assistant respectfully remained in the hall, the simple seeming ironwood cane that Seph had used to navigate any stairs that would have otherwise bar'd his path. Into his early 70s, the old Swiss man had a grandfatherly appearance about him.
He paused at the door after his assistant had closed it, and nodded respecfully to the Regus. "Evenings greetings, Regus. I appologize for my tardiness."
He hoped that the exhaustion of navigating the stairs was not too evident, "High Inquisitor. I offer congratulations for your new post. Although in truth, I am both honoured and concerned to have lived long enough to see the need for it."
At the Regus' permission, Seph would fully enter the room and approach the table, where he might prepare to deliver his presentation.