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DCH - Power Shift – Playing the Snake

 
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Mr. Howe
DCH Senior Partner
Young Wyrm
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 09, 2011 3:12 pm    Post subject: DCH - Power Shift – Playing the Snake Reply with quote

((Authors' Notes: This scene happens after Howe's visit to the Inn sometime within the last few weeks, where he thought to re-kidnap Viki and gloated over Lucky's soul being for sale. Sorry for the untimeliness! WARNING, ADULT CONTENT, Rated MA!!!! Thanks to the player of Renna for all the FUN!!! The following is written by both Howe and Renna Players, thanks!))

After a night of disappointments, Howe returns to the warehouse buried in the depths of the Westend. The partners had chosen the local because of the weird manna field that enshrouds the area. It makes finding folks within difficult at best. DCH likes not being found easily when in their private quarters.

Howe's mood is foul, dark and heavy, thunderous upon his hefty brow. He ignores his servants, brusquely brushing past them on his way to his room. His thoughts are still on the inn and the events that had transpired. Batten’s beauty irks him, and that the man seemed to key on the very taunts dropped by Renna only the night before rankles. Howe is certain there is a connection, and he hates the man more for it!

“Bet the Bitch wouldn’t mind if he wanted to touch her!” He mutters darkly as he slams his bedroom door closed.

The interior of his private room reflects more than he would ever willingly offer up. There are no windows in his room, he has no need of them and thinks of them as little more than security risks anyway. The walls are paneled in rare woods and glisten in the low lamp light. The bed is canopied; the curtains heavy and velvety dark. The décor he’s surrounded himself with harkens back to turn of the century England, the ending days of the Victorian era and the dawn of the Industrial Age. A time the lawyer is the most familiar and comfortable with. It was the last he’d known when he was still human and hadn’t yet paid for his deal with the devil.

In the far corner of the room sits an elegant, antique sideboard. Atop the beautiful piece sits a decanter full of his favored scotch and three rock glasses. Howe pours himself a drink and slams it back, only to pour himself another.

His thoughts go over and over the scene in the inn while his anger continues to mount. He’d been so close, close enough to touch the Seer! If all those eyes hadn’t been upon him he might have had the chance to steal her away. What he could do with all that power?! Another drink is slammed back. Of course, Icer and the Statue, (what Howe calls Rachael Wynter) seemed intent on keeping a watchful eye on him. He will find out who that Statue is and make sure the pair of them pay for their unwanted attention! He mutters a few curses before slamming down another glass of scotch.

And who was the classy lady with the mouth? He hadn’t seen her before, well, that isn’t quite the truth. He doesn’t recall her ever getting under his skin before. Another to add to the growing list of Rhy’Din’s most unwanted. Pests! All of them nothing more than Pests to be exterminated!

After a consuming a good portion of the decanter’s contents, he stumbles about dropping his clothes on his way to bed. Not completely sotted, he is certainly enjoying the pleasant buzz. It chases him into his dreams where there he can have all that he wants! Of course, in his dreams, Renna wants him back.

Somehow dreams, often became reality.

In Howe's absence, Renna had found herself the bathroom and – thank everything that is true, a bathtub! Not just one of those plastic ones either; a pure copper-made piece that could have fit more than three clones of Howe lying side to side. Despite its hedonistic size, the ivy and leaf motif embossed around the outside was indeed the top of the iceberg. Did he install this just for her? Or was this indeed the bath he himself used on a – she hoped, a daily basis.

A long luxurious bath was had. She even went as far as raiding a bathroom cupboard of any and all bath salts she could throw into the steaming hot water, hoping that maybe it would irk Howe off.

Assuming he did indeed bathe at all. Something told her he did not.

Maybe he had an entourage of slaves wipe him down with exfoliating sponges at the end of every evening? That old hand bag he called a body was indeed starting to get a little rough around the edges.

She laughed aloud, her voice echoing harshly against the bathroom walls, as she rubbed in some quite expensive shampoo into her long, golden blonde strands. Unfortunately, however, her little party would soon be disrupted by one grumpy man slamming and cursing in the not too far off distance...

Howe was home.

What kind of mock-wife would she be if she did not at least welcome her fat little loveable bastard home?

Finishing up her bath, she dried off and next raided the oaken draws in the room specified to be her own. And, despite how much she teased the man, he had at least some kind of a taste when it came to décor... Victorian. A little too bright for her liking, but that was nothing a few blood splashes wound not fix.

Pulling out a transparent black nightgown, she slipped it on, and regarded herself in the full-bodied mirror located just to the side of her large king-sized bed. She roughed her hair up a bit, blinked so that her blood red eyes had suddenly became an innocent baby blue, and turned, heading straight for her door with quite a determined look upon her features.

Howe, was sleeping like a baby, it seems.

One big, big baby...

Somehow, she had managed to sneak into his room without even making the faintest of sounds, and, as she slowly stood up upon his bed, she padded her way to stand over him. Then, she slowly crouched to straddle his chest.

“... Wake up, sleepyhead,” she whispered gently, as to calmly wake him from his slumber, unfortunately when she got no response, she simply slapped him in the face.

“Wake up!”

Howe must have drunk way too much. He had to have because as he peels open sleepy skinbag eyes he can’t believe the vision standing over him. Beady eyes blink as he scowls up at the crouching beauty above him.

“What the fu… who the hell let you in here?!” He demands as he moves to toss her off of him. No way in hell is he gonna risk Renna finding him in this kind of compromising situation. Howe’s heft works against him, he can’t move quick enough to force her off of him, nor can he squirm out from under her. He reaches up to push her aside. “Get the f*ck off of a’me bitch!” Then he picks up the scent of her.

Fresh washed skin, as if she’d just bathed. ‘Gods, what a hot body she has!’ He can’t help but think. But there is more to that scent…

“No f*cking way! She aint settin’ me up like this!” Howe curses loudly as beady eyes dart towards the door expecting to see his Dark Goddess standing there smirking at him. He thinks, erroneously, that the figure above him must have been created by the Dark Beauty, rather than she is Renna. And he’s certain this is some kind of trick, a setup to prove him unworthy or something! He would buck her off of him, but that would look worse if Renna were to waltz in at that precise moment.

Meaty hands fall on the woman’s fragile, pale shoulders and he gives her a rough shove away. “You just go back to your Mistress and tell her I don’t want no part of this game, hear!” He commands.
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Howe
Former Senior Partner of DCH (now DCW)
“Revenge is best served cold and late, that way they won’t remember to duck!” Howe
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This Dark One
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PostPosted: Mon Jun 13, 2011 8:33 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

What a reaction!
    
Her eyes went wide with interest at his maddened ramblings.
    
Setting him up?
    
Mistress...
    
My oh, my!
    
As Renna was pushed off of him, she hit the bed, laying there so that her legs could curl against the fabric, so that her arms rest above her head. Her long blonde curls had sprayed across the mattress, her night gown having ridden up to reveal a vast portion of her naked frame just below her ribcage.

Mistress...” Renna groaned, “My, my Howe... I didn't know you had such a sexual appetite... It seems like, you're talking about a frequent visitor... Or someone, you wished to be in your bed, other than me... And to think you called me your darling.”
    
A pout. “And here I was thinking I should show off this new body, just for you... I think I've changed my mind now.”
 
Did she just say… ‘Your Darling’?!  He sits up in the bed and damn he can’t help how his beady eyes drink up the woman’s nakedness.  Sh*t!  There’s a reason Lust is his least favorite of the seven deadly sins; he can’t control it as easily as he can the others.  But inside his head he’s beginning to piece it all together, albeit a bit slowly.  Later he will blame all the scotch he drank. 
 
The blonde, blue eyed lass lying on his bed all tasty as you please, isn’t his luxuriant dark haired, red-eyed, f*ckable mouth Beauty Renna.  By all that is Unholy, is it really her??  Beady eyes widen and he drags them up from the teasing display of bare flesh to fix on that pouty face.  “Renna?”  He says incredulously.  He can’t imagine why she’d want to look like a typical Rhy’Din tart when her beauty surpasses them all.   

What was that babble about a frequent visitor?!  He shakes his head staring hard at the face of the blonde bombshell.  “Hell, I aint had another in my bed since…”  Prudence makes him stop short.  Too much information will lead no doubt to nothing but trouble.  And he thinks he’s already got plenty of that!!!  He mutters darkly under his breath a few more choice curses as he shakes his head again, still staring her in the eyes. 
 
“What the f*ck have ya done to yourself?!”
 
Yeah.  Not the prettiest words to say.  Not likely to earn him any favor from her either.  He really shouldn’t be all that surprised if she slaps him.
 
 “What? Were you expecting this mysterious woman in the dark you seem to be ranting on about in your daze?” Renna drew her index finger to her mouth, as she wiggled her behind against the bed, “Well I suppose I will be the first to grace your chambers since... Puberty perhaps...” Her dark grin mocked him and everything he ever was. It had the ability to do that, just by a single glance.
    
What? Don't like it?” She slowly leans up and pushes him back down onto the bed, roughly, straddling him once again. “It goes perfect does it not with my new body? Young, beautiful, blonde... I always wanted blonde hair, but, well black did always suit me better... The least you could say is, I look beautiful. You did choose this body after all.”

She ran her hands up through her hair then, “Hmm,” she moaned, “To feel alive again... Such a sweet melody... Anyway, I did not come here to give you a heart attack, old man. This is how I will look from now on, and if we ever meet, you shall refer to me as Francine Renton... Got that? I need a disguise, I can't just waltz around with black hair and red eyes – it's a little too obvious. Besides, I don't want to be associated with what you've done, as of late...”
    
Renna smirked, then. “You've been a bad boy.”
 
For a moment, the briefest of moments, but it finally happened nonetheless, he’s struck speechless.  Beady eyes are as wide as they have ever been.  He lies under the nubile, young body staring up at her trying hard to make sense of all she’d just said. 
 
Always wanted to be blonde??  What the hell?!
 
She feels alive??  That bodes badly for him, he’s certain! 
 
Doesn’t want to be associated to him?  Oh, boy!  That can be good for him either!
 
He’s been a bad boy?  That’s not news!  Especially to him.
 
Thin, cruel lips twist into a semblance of a smile as he allows himself to laugh.  It sounds harsh and oddly loud in the quiet of the night surrounding them.  Beefy hands lift to roam over the blonde bombshell, but Renna knows this body isn’t doing jack for him.  Yeah, it’s hot, yeah, any other man out in there in the world would most likely be hard just looking at it.  Not Howe.  For whatever twisted reason, this new form she’s taken doesn’t seem to manifest the same response as her old one had.  Even covered in gore as she had been last he’d seen her… it did more for his nether regions than this one is. 
 
A cruel pinch is given to the smooth skin of her derriere.  “Get off me bitch.” He fairly snarls, but his humor is coming back.  “Francine, huh?  Guess that will work.  And you think I’ve been bad?  Sweetmeat you aint seen jacksh*t yet.  I got plans.  Big ones.  Did ya know the Seer is back?  And nary a Blood in sight to keep me from taking what I want!  So go ahead and have a good long laugh, but just you wait!  I’m gonna get me a hot new young body to ride around in too! 
 
“What ya think of of that Batten?  He seems popular with the girls.”  Yeah, he’s already chosen his next vessel, now all he’s gotta do is claim it.  “Ya seen the pretty boy yet?  Bet you wouldn’t turn him outta your bed.  And I’m thinking…”  He pauses to smile rather pleased with himself before continuing.  “If I looked like that, you wouldn’t be turning me away either.
 
“I’d bet you’d even be willin’ to give me your old form and not this jacksh*t run of the mill Rhy’Din whore.  Ya look like ya wanna be ridden hard and put away wet, Renna.  It don’t suit ya.”  He intends his words to cut, to hurt. 
 
He's not jamming on "Francine", nope not at all and he isn't bothered letting her know it.
 
Her eyes suddenly became, soft.
    
Her smirk was gone, and so was her self gratification. So what if she always wanted to be blonde? It's just one of those things everyone had once in a while. A change.
    
He had struck a nerve and Renna, was going to let him know it. Those innocent blue eyes, burnt away, allowing the bloodied reds to glow down at him. “... This is not about you, you pathetic little, self centered man.” Blonde hair shifted, shimmering within an unseen wind that lifted her hair to behind her head. And in that moment, the blonde strands tainted black. Her body shifted and changed, her form became less voluptuous, more petite and womanly.
Even her teeth turned to wicked fangs.
    
“... You're such a mundane man. I wonder how much sourness has been stewing away all these years because you couldn't have the brains to find a new vessel. Oh, wait, that's right. I did. I've been through five bodies now. And guess what? They all look like this. It's time I hid myself away, Howe. And that is why...”
    
The blonde bombshell melted back into sight. “... You have what you see before you. I used to be like you Howe, I used to think I could rip open the world – but you know what? I discovered, that in death, there is only, true, immortality. I've eaten Goddess, I've drunk from powerful men, I've f*cked even stronger, but you know what, Howe...”
    
Innocent blue eyes narrowed. “If, and I mean, IF, you call me bitch, one more time, I will rip open your neck, and sh*t down it.”
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Mr. Howe
DCH Senior Partner
Young Wyrm
Young Wyrm


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PostPosted: Wed Jun 15, 2011 3:42 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

To add insult to injury, the moment the real Renna was atop him was also the moment she felt the stirring beneath her that told her more than she could have wanted to know. He wants Renna, not some blondie-come-lately.

And her words… more or less her threats really get him going. He grinds his hips up against her, yeah, even the blonde her because the real Renna is still coming out of her mouth, that delicious, f*ckable mouth! How did he miss that??!

“Rip open my neck and sh*t down it? That makes me want to f*ck you even blond.” Thin lips curl into a satisfied smile. “Careful, now. Ya keep talking like that and you’re gonna make me c*m.” His laugh is low, course, bordering on rude but there is no doubt what it is about Renna that makes Howe desire her.

“Ya want gods to eat? I’ll get ya gods to eat. Ya wanna be blond? Be blond just don’t ever stop talking like ya do, Darlin’. Cuz that mouth ya got? It’s the hottest thing I ever, ever have had the pleasure of knowing.” Howe’s beady eyes glimmer red as beefy hands take hold of slender hips. He rolls his own girth against her, letting her know the fullness of his desires.

He wanted to ask her where she got the power to gain those vessels. He wanted to beg her to help him. He would never let her know those weaknesses however and his thin lips remain closed yet wreathed with that unholy, cruel smile.

“Ya think me mundane. Ya think me stupid and weak. That’s alright, cuz that gives me something to prove. I like a good challenge. You’ll see.” He sounds so sure of himself and somewhere in his deluded mind he is certain he will. All he needs is the right resources. Most of them are within his reach, all he has to do is find a way to make them his. Yes, he has a lot to do. And from what she’s said tonight, he has gotten the impression he’d better get to it. Before she gets bored and leaves him flat.

Howe smiles his snaky smile up to her. He has to win her over, one way or another.

She took each and every advance within her grace. Every part of her wanted to vomit over him. He was ugly, he was disgusting. He was everything Renna hoped to destroy. Only the perfect should survive. He was not perfect. She had only started to wonder why she had agreed to be summoned by this grey haired gorilla. “Then prove me wrong, Howe. Prove me you won't fail. Because, you know what will happen, if you do.”

She moved to press her lips towards his, but stopped, hovering just millimeters above, “You're going to join me in my Hell, and I will enjoy ripping you, limb, from limb... I will eat you, slow... And I will digest your very soul, just so you can feel the sheer insanity of death, eons before I sh*t you out.”

She pulled back, “The Fair Labor Agreement.” She announced suddenly. “I think I have something you want to know.”

Her words promise undue torture and all he can think is how it would feel to be eaten slowly by her. Sure, she wants him to ponder on the pain of it, but the sadistic nature of him finds the promise erotic rather than daunting. Being caught in her private Hell with her for an eternity? Yeah, she’s likely to make him regret ever meeting her, but he’d have her for an eternity, now wouldn’t he?

It’s all moot, because he is going to prove her wrong about him. He’s going to take Batten’s skinsuit and make it his own. And he’s gonna do it to prove his worth to Renna. He’s pretty sure she’ll still gobble him up and keep him in her Hell anyway. What more could a Demon hope for? Her Hell would be far more preferable than the bullsh*t Morningstar’s cooked up Below, mainly because she would be in it with him.

Hot damn, the woman’s gotta mouth on her!! He doesn’t want business butting in, but there it is anyway.

“Ya know, ya could tell me more about the horrors ya wanna inflict upon me and we could talk about that damnable Fair Labor bullsh*t later?” He offers with another roll of his bulk to her petite frame. “But I don’t want ya thinking even lesser of me than it seems ya already do. Renna, ya gotta get off me and stop talking so pretty first, cuz truth be true. The blood in this sh*tbag is a poolin’ in all the wrong places that the brain is startin’ to rot.” With unexpected tenderness he lifts her from him placing her gently to the opposite side of the bed. He sits up and attempts to cool down.

“Alright, what ya got?” The lawyerly façade hasn’t quite returned but he’s making a valiant effort. Her charms are hard for him to shake off apparently.
_________________
Howe
Former Senior Partner of DCH (now DCW)
“Revenge is best served cold and late, that way they won’t remember to duck!” Howe
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This Dark One
Penance
Old Wyrm
Old Wyrm


Joined: 29 Sep 2006
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Can Be Found: Negzarcurgis - T'Barack Opalith
5829.68 Silver Crowns

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PostPosted: Wed Jun 15, 2011 7:22 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

 “... I wonder, sometimes, why I bothered to allow you into my realm – but, oh yes. Your soul is far prettier than the bare bones of it all.”
    
Slowly her head turned to the side, as she was guided off of him. It seems business was in order, and it would only bring a further anger to Howe's cute, little chubby face. “Remember I said had business with DeMuer in the past? Well, I might want to say this for your benefit, but, what if I suggested he aided a known murderer, a known psychotic, in the enslavement of an entire race?”
    
Her smirk grew then. “Would that help at all?”
 
For a moment he is perfectly still.  He knows what she’s suggesting, but using her, her name, as a weapon, it feels wrong, sacrilegious even!  Beady eyes move from her face to the floor as he pushes aside the blankets covering him.  His pajamas are as old fashioned as his suits.  His nightshirt is long and made of some kind of green plaid.  It makes him look even fatter than he normally does.  He doesn’t seem to notice or perhaps care.  Standing he steps over the discarded clothing from the night before, (all his) and moves towards his wardrobe, turning to pace back then repeating the process. 
 
A thoughtful expression rides beefy features “It’ll be tricky.  He will likely deny any knowledge, or perhaps any association.  You have hard evidence?”  Still, something about this doesn’t feel right. 
 
Beady eyes move back to the blonde bombshell on the bed.  The blue eyes throw him off, they make this all seem surreal to him.  “Do you really want to use you as a weapon against him?  Really, Renna?”
 
 “Oh please Howe, what makes you think you don't have to lie?” She watched his pacing, she simply answered his seriousness with a suggestive, laid back pose, “You don't have to use my name, if you don't want to. But consider this, my name; I was sentenced to death. I served a trial and was sent to burn alive. To be associated with such a beast, don't you think, it would ruin your image?”
She paused then, grinning, “Besides, the allegiance still stands, with my daughter. The peace treaty between Lysander and Zarcurgis. An alliance Alain himself, perpetuated. Alain is supporting a Queen of people enslaved by mind control. A mind control still in effect.”

She smirked, “Besides, would it not be grand if you had Renna as your prisoner? Interrogated... Used... Abused... To discover the truth?”
 
She then smiled. "Forced to show the Treaty they will know Alain is not all as he seems?"
 
She makes sense.  But which head is speaking?  He’s not sure right now. 
 
“We risk you.  We risk the townsfolk rising up and demanding that I turn you over for further punishment!
 
“I don’t know.” Again the uncertain shake of his head. 
 
“But you have a valid point.  We may not need to mention names, or even offer up evidence.  The whisper of scandal might be enough.  The folks in Rhy’Din love their gossip.  Of course, DeMuer has that damnable Franco in his pocket.  We’ll need another source to use to pollute the masses against him.”  Howe’s pacing continues as it helps him think.  “Perhaps, if we are very careful and no one can connect this ‘information’ to either you or me, we could at least cast doubts as to what he’s up to?  And suggest that he’s not nearly as spotless or noble as he likes to paint himself.”
 
Howe nods fingers lifting to stroke at the graying beard.  “Yes, we can use misinformation as well.  I have slaves we can use against him.  I’ve a few tricks up my sleeve; I can plant the information into their measly little minds that he’s the one who’s been selling off whores?”  A glance of beady eyes to Renna to see if she thinks his ideas are worthy.
 
“We need hard evidence. Howe. Information is one thing but evidence is another...” She slowed her eyes as they drifted away, “They don't know I have returned to this planar. As long as you keep your mouth shut.”
    
Renna's bloodied red eyes then narrowed further, “A suggestion, and nothing more, Howe. Consider my words, but do not act upon it if you do not deem the suggestion worthy of your life. Because, I care little of your intentions. All I care about, is your continued existence... So take this suggestion with a hint of wine.” She moved to stand, running her fingers through her hair, adjusting her transparent nightgown.

“Hijack one of his convoys, and replace it with wares of the flesh. Tip off his allies that he is bringing in slaves. Allow nothing to trace back to you, but simply, to him... Heck, burn his house name onto their flesh..." She mused, "Whatever it takes."
        
And so the subtle influencing of Howe has begun.
 
He nods thoughtfully, his mind already going over the details on how to pull off the caper.  “Yes, yes!  Perfect!  This I can do!  You are *** brilliant, Renna!”  He turns to smile in excitement at her.  “Yes, I already have everything I need.  I’ll set my spies to watch his shipments.  He likes to use ships.  I can easily use them for this little ploy!”
 
Howe grins and clasps his hands together rubbing them gleefully.  “Oh, yes, we can prove to the world of Rhy’Din exactly what DeMuer and his ‘allies’ are!”
 
She rushed a hand through her hair, “Yes, my dear...” She moved to approach a nearby window, her eyes turning then to the side, to watch Howe in his self absorbent display. “... I am.”
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