Rector Om

Rector Julius Om. The Rector of the College of Gardeners. Om had the sharpened teeth of one of the professional assassins of Hell.

Allied with Wolfganga. Murders President Uzbek.
Tries to kill Gorkindachina, but is killed himself by Atlanta in her office.

He put some cold boiled chestnuts into his pockets and set out for the College of Gardeners, where he planned to obtain an interview with Rector Om. As head of the College, Om was something of a power in the land, and Gorkindachina thought his difficulties might be over if he could recruit Om as an ally. [NoP Ch14]

The man who had joined Heineman in his place of refuge was Julius Om, the Rector of the College of Gardeners. Om had the sharpened teeth of one of the professional assassins of Hell, which was exactly what he was, at least by training (but that is another story, and a long story, and there is no need to tell it here).
With his scanning survey completed, Om turned to Heineman. [EoH Ch14]

Rector Om, the head of the College of Gardeners, had once made his living in Barth Banchup Bakchakris as a professional assassin. Heineman was terrified of him. If there was one thing Heineman was sure of, it was this: if Om had tried to organize Heineman's assassination, then it would have gone off flawlessly. There would have been no hitches. Heineman would have been dead. Ergo, Heineman's survival was proof of Om's innocence - or so thought Heineman! [NoP Ch9] OOL,EoH,NoP

Suddenly, there was something in Om's hand, and he threw it. It was a throwing dart, a tiny heavyweighted thing which smacked into Atlanta's knife-hand like a vicious wasp. She gasped, and dropped her knife. Om leapt. Om launched himself across the room. moving in a blur of action. Leaping thus, he exploded into flame. He kicked hugely, as if fighting the flame. Then he screamed, thrashing in a frenzy. Screaming, burning, kicking, thrashing, Julius Om fell to the floor.
Atlanta Ignalina stood watching him, with the cool composure of a householder who has just broken the back of a poisonous snake. In her left hand was the unmistakable ugliness of a frygun. Until the moment of use, it had been hidden beneath the dusting rag. Atlanta glanced at her bleeding right hand, sucked at the blood oozing from the dart-wound between two knuckles. As she did so, Om got to his knees, started to get to his feet.
Atlanta leveled her frygun and gave him a second blast. He caught it full-face, and went kicking backwards, landing amidst the scattered waste paper which had been thrown about the office by his entering stratagem. Then Atlanta gave him a third blast, a long prolonged blast which set the floor alight. [NoP Ch17]

Category: oolpeople
Tags: eoh nop ool

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