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Senior Columnist and Investigative Journalist: Darien Fenner
DCH: Oh Howe You Disappoint Us August 30, 2011
In RhyDin - a city with citizens who rarely, if ever, choose to read the fine print before they sign on the dotted line - creditors would make a killing.
At first blush, it seems an innocent thing " a quick way to earn some extra cash until your big break comes and you are free to open that hole-in-the-wall restaurant you always wanted to. And so it is without hesitation that your pen flies across the page, its big bold letters binding you to the only legitimate system of regulation there is here: a contract.
In a big-gun city like RhyDin, which is equipped with any number of magical, demonic, technological, or otherwise otherworldly types of motivators, you can be certain that signing your name onto a piece of paper most assuredly warrants the fulfillment of that contract " whether or not said consequences are what was originally agreed upon. Moreover, the word "contract," despite its immediate denotation, has extraordinary connotative power - entailing a multitude of subjects and arrangements, from the common marriage to a multi-million credit business venture, all of which typically remain conveniently outside the law. Naturally this ascribes to the further need for regulation, but seeing as this column has become a broken record for such things, that message can be saved for a future issue.
It is ironic, then, that some of the best and smartest businessmen in RhyDin find themselves comfortably employed at one of the city's scarce law firms.
Dewey, Cheatham & Howe (DCH), an off-world-based firm humorously named for its founding partners is situated in a somewhat busy, modern piece of industry located in the north of the Marketplace. The building itself, while having a strange habit of detonating on a semi regular basis, stands as a testament to entrepreneurs and business hopefuls everywhere " its quaint yet chic appearance inviting as the bakeries down the street. But though DCH's offices serve as the perfect web of allure for would-be legal clients (a demographic that RhyDin is notoriously lacking in), it is through property dealings that DCH has made its mark on the city. Over the past five years or so, partners at DCH have made a fortune in buying and selling real estate - most significantly in the more indigent sectors. And for the most part, that is what DCH has outwardly proven itself to do: Buy what RhyDinians don't want to deal with, and make a profit from it. But at what point does profiting involve more than just money' And where is the line between profit and profiteer"
Enter DCH's partners, who, two-thirds of the time, present themselves as passable gentlemen " advertising confidently on sharp-looking business cards that they are more than capable of winning virtually any lawsuit, be it for prosecution or defense.
"I thought they had me for sure, you know, dead to rights, what with that image orb and all," one client expressed vehemently. "But Mister Howe kicks butt! He got me off and even gave me a job!"
But for every bit as glowing as the firm's track record was back in LA, its record in RhyDin is that much more recondite. And while its lucrative property dealings are nothing to thumb your nose at, recently surfaced elements of the enterprise connected to one of DCH's own partners at the very least deserves an honorable mention.
In 2007, you may remember a charitable venture called the Widows and Orphans Fund being undertaken by an anonymous group. This philanthropic organization accrued donations that were funneled into an auxiliary monetary account that would later be apportioned to "less fortunate" RhyDinian orphans and widows in a charitable weekly stipend. More importantly, however, was the WaOF's secondary mission, which involved assigning employment to women and children of age. All in all it seems to be a genuine project on paper. In fact, the classic "helping people help themselves" approach by the WaOF presents itself as a gold standard to charities everywhere. Furthermore, said program has in the past few years incorporated a striking number of out-of-realm career placements " most typically entailing indentured service assignments.
What does this all have to do with DCH" A startling development has recently occurred that S.N. Howe of Dewey, Cheatham & Howe may not only be the mind behind the questionable collection of indentured service contracts, but also that he may be using that front to deal in more than just money.
In the past week, new and informative material in the way of accounting ledgers and contract copies has surfaced, all of which trusted sources claim can be traced back to Howe. While for legal purposes the specific information of these documents cannot be disclosed, one very interesting matter remains unexplained " the significance of souls, and what they have to do with Howe's or DCH's business dealings. Indeed, the evidence found in connection with Howe certainly waxes familiar with some of the information found in WaOF's books " a coincidence that even the greenest detective might have trouble neglecting, and one that gives fuel to the speculation that Howe or the firm he is connected with is taking advantage of so-called charitable efforts. Further, this information appears to be recorded for the same commoditizing purposes as, say, the soul contract found in just that same packet of documents.
It's been a while since I've read the fine print, but since when does accounting or philanthropy involve soul contracts"
Naturally this is all circumstantial, but whatever the case may be, equating a businessman in RhyDin with the possibility of 'soul dealing" is like connecting a doctor with malpractice " it's a title that mars a professional for life whether or not a crime has actually been committed. And let's face it: in RhyDin, the very lack of law " and, by extension, lack of punished crime " makes it much more likely that such an act would go overlooked" Say, for the past four years or more. But then that could very well be just an arbitrary number, couldn't it"
One thing is certain for now, at least. Whatever it is Howe or his partners are doing at DCH (with or without each others" consent), based on the present facts, is slippery. And given what we know right now, when you put your John Hancock down next time, for all you know you just may be actually signing your life away.
As I said. A creditor's dream.
Which is the proper adage to use here" The pen is mightier than the sword" Or perhaps it is that there is power in a name"
I've an even better one, and in this case, Edward Bulwer-Lytton might even agree with me.
Never trust a lawyer.
DCH: Oh Howe You Disappoint Us August 30, 2011
In RhyDin - a city with citizens who rarely, if ever, choose to read the fine print before they sign on the dotted line - creditors would make a killing.
At first blush, it seems an innocent thing " a quick way to earn some extra cash until your big break comes and you are free to open that hole-in-the-wall restaurant you always wanted to. And so it is without hesitation that your pen flies across the page, its big bold letters binding you to the only legitimate system of regulation there is here: a contract.
In a big-gun city like RhyDin, which is equipped with any number of magical, demonic, technological, or otherwise otherworldly types of motivators, you can be certain that signing your name onto a piece of paper most assuredly warrants the fulfillment of that contract " whether or not said consequences are what was originally agreed upon. Moreover, the word "contract," despite its immediate denotation, has extraordinary connotative power - entailing a multitude of subjects and arrangements, from the common marriage to a multi-million credit business venture, all of which typically remain conveniently outside the law. Naturally this ascribes to the further need for regulation, but seeing as this column has become a broken record for such things, that message can be saved for a future issue.
It is ironic, then, that some of the best and smartest businessmen in RhyDin find themselves comfortably employed at one of the city's scarce law firms.
Dewey, Cheatham & Howe (DCH), an off-world-based firm humorously named for its founding partners is situated in a somewhat busy, modern piece of industry located in the north of the Marketplace. The building itself, while having a strange habit of detonating on a semi regular basis, stands as a testament to entrepreneurs and business hopefuls everywhere " its quaint yet chic appearance inviting as the bakeries down the street. But though DCH's offices serve as the perfect web of allure for would-be legal clients (a demographic that RhyDin is notoriously lacking in), it is through property dealings that DCH has made its mark on the city. Over the past five years or so, partners at DCH have made a fortune in buying and selling real estate - most significantly in the more indigent sectors. And for the most part, that is what DCH has outwardly proven itself to do: Buy what RhyDinians don't want to deal with, and make a profit from it. But at what point does profiting involve more than just money' And where is the line between profit and profiteer"
Enter DCH's partners, who, two-thirds of the time, present themselves as passable gentlemen " advertising confidently on sharp-looking business cards that they are more than capable of winning virtually any lawsuit, be it for prosecution or defense.
"I thought they had me for sure, you know, dead to rights, what with that image orb and all," one client expressed vehemently. "But Mister Howe kicks butt! He got me off and even gave me a job!"
But for every bit as glowing as the firm's track record was back in LA, its record in RhyDin is that much more recondite. And while its lucrative property dealings are nothing to thumb your nose at, recently surfaced elements of the enterprise connected to one of DCH's own partners at the very least deserves an honorable mention.
In 2007, you may remember a charitable venture called the Widows and Orphans Fund being undertaken by an anonymous group. This philanthropic organization accrued donations that were funneled into an auxiliary monetary account that would later be apportioned to "less fortunate" RhyDinian orphans and widows in a charitable weekly stipend. More importantly, however, was the WaOF's secondary mission, which involved assigning employment to women and children of age. All in all it seems to be a genuine project on paper. In fact, the classic "helping people help themselves" approach by the WaOF presents itself as a gold standard to charities everywhere. Furthermore, said program has in the past few years incorporated a striking number of out-of-realm career placements " most typically entailing indentured service assignments.
What does this all have to do with DCH" A startling development has recently occurred that S.N. Howe of Dewey, Cheatham & Howe may not only be the mind behind the questionable collection of indentured service contracts, but also that he may be using that front to deal in more than just money.
In the past week, new and informative material in the way of accounting ledgers and contract copies has surfaced, all of which trusted sources claim can be traced back to Howe. While for legal purposes the specific information of these documents cannot be disclosed, one very interesting matter remains unexplained " the significance of souls, and what they have to do with Howe's or DCH's business dealings. Indeed, the evidence found in connection with Howe certainly waxes familiar with some of the information found in WaOF's books " a coincidence that even the greenest detective might have trouble neglecting, and one that gives fuel to the speculation that Howe or the firm he is connected with is taking advantage of so-called charitable efforts. Further, this information appears to be recorded for the same commoditizing purposes as, say, the soul contract found in just that same packet of documents.
It's been a while since I've read the fine print, but since when does accounting or philanthropy involve soul contracts"
Naturally this is all circumstantial, but whatever the case may be, equating a businessman in RhyDin with the possibility of 'soul dealing" is like connecting a doctor with malpractice " it's a title that mars a professional for life whether or not a crime has actually been committed. And let's face it: in RhyDin, the very lack of law " and, by extension, lack of punished crime " makes it much more likely that such an act would go overlooked" Say, for the past four years or more. But then that could very well be just an arbitrary number, couldn't it"
One thing is certain for now, at least. Whatever it is Howe or his partners are doing at DCH (with or without each others" consent), based on the present facts, is slippery. And given what we know right now, when you put your John Hancock down next time, for all you know you just may be actually signing your life away.
As I said. A creditor's dream.
Which is the proper adage to use here" The pen is mightier than the sword" Or perhaps it is that there is power in a name"
I've an even better one, and in this case, Edward Bulwer-Lytton might even agree with me.
Never trust a lawyer.