"Wait for me," Alysia said quietly to the young shaman, Badger. "I shouldn't be that long." She smiled crookedly at him, stepping out of the path of a foot-courier who raced through the streets. A few passers-by paused to look with curious disdain at the pale woman garbed in finely-detailed black elf-leather. She squinted against the watery sunlight, focusing crimson eyes on the unobtrusive sign hung outside the building - "Dewey, Cheetham & Howe, Attorneys."

"Wait. . . " I'd be less conspicuous in a carriage." Badger muttered as he dismounted the bay he rode. He took the reins of Alysia's "Nightmare", a Hellish vision of a black equine with burning orange eyes. "With this clothes, I'll stand out like a..." He trailed off, sighed and dramatically swiped at the road dust which had accumulated on his russet-and-gold velvet tunic during the ride from Dark Lake Manor to uptown Rhydin.

"Just pretend you're a page or something," Alysia suggested, disregarding the fact that the youth was a little too old and a little too tall to credibly assume that role. She handed him a short leather cord and instructed him to tie his rather unruly hair back. As Badger complied, she added, "Carriages are too cumbersome and are in themselves conspicuous. Besides, I'd rather not have to explain to Lucien why I was borrowing his carriage."

The apprentice shaman frowned a little and opened his mouth to question why she was insistent upon this course of action, if she thought Lucien might disapprove.

"Don't say it." Alysia's voice hardened. "You are here to watch and learn. Perhaps to fetch assistance, if needed. Surely not to question me.? The Priestess turned, unsmiling, and entered the law office.

Badger shut his mouth quickly. He shrugged, discontent, and begin looking for a trough to water the horses.

"Good day, Miss. How might DCH serve you today?"

She bit off a facetious response as she looked down at the well-dressed figure presented by the receptionist. There was a hum of energy that had caught her attention; the whisper of sound, familiar to her from time spent in cloning facilities, was a betrayal of unexpected technology. Alysia shook her head almost imperceptibly at the relevation.

"I'd like to speak with Mr. Howe," the fire-eyed female answered in a smooth contralto. She offered a smile somewhat coldly polite, adding, "My name, if you need it, is Ylith-Alysia Vladslace Li'Ved of the Skye Clan."

Stew Burger steps from his boss" office with a calm and confident expression, not at all a true reflection of his feelings. He automatically straightens out the wrinkles of his expensive designer suit while passing through his office to the hallway. He is a meticulous person and recognizes the importance of getting to such things early. He is to meet and greet Alysia Li'Ved and intends to look his best. First impressions, he knows, are quite important.

He knows her name because he was in Howe's office when she gave it to the receptionist. Howe had been watching alright, as if anything could happen inside the offices that the lead partners" don't know about!

They watch everyone all the time.

Stewy realizes he must be very cautious in what he says to the lady because their interactions will no doubt be monitored. Howe is very interested in this Ms. Li"Ved. His desire to study the lady alone would keep the pair under his scrutiny. But Stew nevertheless still feels an overwhelming need to inform her of Howe's diabolical nature. He knows first-hand what dealing with DCH can do to a soul.

He'd been actively working against DCH for several years now and has managed to stay beyond suspicion, under the radar so to speak. However lately he's noticed subtle changes in the way Howe treats him, and he's begun keeping 'secrets" from Stewy.

Stew is a smart man; he knows he's walking a fine yet very dangerous line. He can't help himself; he lost everything important to him when they called in his marker. Stew has no other reason to continue existing these days other than to plot his personal revenge against the demonic attorneys". No matter what may happen to him, he will know he's done some good.

Alysia is in his line of sight now, just down the hallway, standing in the open reception area. He takes a moment to appraise the lady, too far away to speak yet, but close enough for such inspection. Hair of white gold, eyes afire, the lady is quite simply beautiful. She appears to be of Elven descent, which makes sense as she claimed she was of the Skye Clan. He can't fathom why she's come here, she looks sensible and sane.

He extends his right hand as he approaches Alysia, offering her a professional smile. "Hello, Ms. Li"Ved, I'm Stew Burger, Mr. Howe's assistant. I am here to escort you to his office. If you would be so kind as to follow me?" a gesture with his left hand down the hallway from which he'd just emerged. "Care for some refreshments, Ms. Li"Ved??

Stew drops the offer of a handshake nodding to the lady's prompt to take the lead. He isn't surprised that she is unwilling to touch him. If it were him in her place he'd be cautious too.

He turns and begins to lead the way down the hall while debating how to answer her question about Howe, which he still hasn't addressed yet.

"Mr. Howe, I believe, is waiting on you, Ms. Li"Ved. He seems in a pleasant mood today." It is the kind of information that most employed by DCH would want to know when dealing with any of the head attorneys", he's happy to supply it to Alysia, although he realizes this may mean little to her. Yet Stew has no other way to communicate to the lady save with spoken words. Words that could be easily overheard which is what keeps Howe's assistant silent.

Instead he leads the lady down the hall and without pause into his office. It is here where Stew hesitates.

Howe's office door is slightly ajar and voices can be heard inside. It sounds like Othinsson has come to chat with Howe. Stew raises his hand to knock, then stops, glancing over to Alysia with an inquiring brow lift.

"Is she as interested as I in hearing what the male has to say to the boss?"

It doesn't matter; Stew leaves his hand hanging in midair as he shamelessly eavesdrops. If Alysia tells on him, well, wouldn't that just be the topper to a really bad day?

"Oh, I forgot to tell you!" Guthorm had shoved Howe's door open for the second time yet that day and conquered the threshold while it was yet warm with Burger's passing. The Norskmann had wasted no time turning on his heels in that hallway where they would be coming, Burger and Alysia. He knew her voice from out there...he did not need to see her. But surprised" Ja, ja....it was a surprise to find her Here. And it was an Opportunity.

Howe looked up from his focused contemplation and that ever so slippery hint of a preoccupied smile wiped clean off his face, as if it was but a trick the Viking's eyes played on him.

"I have made a purchase to aid me in my...travels...to the trade booths." Guthorm swung the door towards closing, behind him, but it did not go so far as to latch. He engaged Howe immediately by placing calloused hands atop the desk and leaned there, directly in the man's sightline of the door, blocking it from Howe's immediate view.

"You know an auk" Much cheaper than a guard dog and smaller too. It will stay on the cart while I am...bargaining...with the Bloods and it will guard godt what your silvers have bought when my back is turned." The Norskmann grinned wide. "It is an ugly bird and cannot fly away or fight. But...it will eat its weight in free fish heads from the docks and it was cheap on your purse."

It is said that a man wanting one better of the 5 senses has another that will take its place in a keener way, and so it was with the Norskmann's sense of hearing. Small footsteps and a pausing he heard faintly behind him, matched in twos, as he made his auk announcement in a bold, confident voice to Howe, in front. The distraction was apparently working. He had Howe's attention.

"Mmm, but that is not what I came to tell you. You may not hear it otherwise, but..." he let the grin grow wild in his beard, "I still can come and go in the Red Dragon without hardship. In fact, just the other day, I was given a gift by one of the Bloods."

Here, he pulled the plasma blaster from it's hiding place under his tunic and in one smooth motion aimed it right between Howe's beady eyes. "She told me afterwards that I should only shoot to kill with this." But, he did not keep that aim any longer than a quarter-breath before he brought the weapon back and turned it in hand, openly admiring it.

If Howe had any startlement or sudden twitch, the Norskmann pretended not to notice and he was quick enough to float aim away from Howe's forehead before the man could even blink. He hoped too, that he wouldn't get melted by some other strange weapon that he did not know about yet, secret in the room. Fate ruled the future...and he was not loathe to toy with it in turn.

"Next time, I will know how to kill with it. Next time, who I target will not be lucky.

"Ja! Did you hear? I shot Sid not long ago while she served her drinks and I nearly killed her outright." He rather liked the look on Howe's face right then.

"Ohhh....so easy to get to her that natt! Every natt! I kom, I ask for ale, she gives me scowling and a tankard and I have a clear shot whenever I want to take it! And all who are friends to Sid and her Bloods, even to Lucky, they all sit and frown and do nothing. Lucky will even sit with me this close," he gestured with the blaster at arms length, "and even he does nothing!"

He let an unfettered laugh escape him and moved his feet in a reckless, victorious pacing nearer the door. Pausing in just the right place, he turned back to Howe and let an ominous tone rumble just low enough in his throat for the man's pleasure...but not too low for....."Now, they would do well to take more caution, all of them. Axe, sword, fists and cunning balance this blaster well."

He paced back towards the desk and Howe. "They are fools to sit back and give me nasty looks. That will not stop me from slaying those in this town who have it coming, hmm' Now, I am not so 'primitive!'"

Oh, did he take a little offense at being called that by the partners, and right to his face when he had first come to them' By Othinn's beard! Soon no one, not Dewey, not Howe, not the receptionist by the door, not any of the townsfolk would be insulting him or his weapons as being 'primitive' again!

He did not know what a "sub-standing bone ox" was and he did not care either. But he Had heard the name Belial before...from several sources...and knew this one was a premium target. And she was His now. He was to see to it. He was ecstatic.

"Ja, ja, I will take care of her." He lowered his head and squinted at Howe from under shady pale brows. A shifty, wolfish grin flickered on his face as Howe launched into gibberish about games and taking some clothing off so he could talk and about putting the turnip in the fire. The man was obviously weak in the head, but that did not matter either, and Guthorm merely nodded in agreement to the man's excited musings. He would find out more about this Belial later.

"Now, off with you, Othinsson."

Hmm. He did not want to leave just yet and he did not like being dismissed.

He nodded once again, in obeyance, and pulled the door wider for an exit, but by the gods, he was stopped in his tracks by...Ohhhhhh! His eyes opened wide on the sight of Alysia there, and Burger too! He shut the door quickly and put his back against it, facing Howe.

"It is Alysia out there with Burger! She is," he lowered his voice, "very dangerous to you. She lives in darkness and she files her teeth. She is Lucky's..." he hissed. But he did not finish that before starting the next. "I will stay. In case there is...Trouble." He waved the blaster over his shoulder at the door and then tucked it in his belt behind his back.

Before Howe could answer, Guthorm pulled the door open again and eyed the two outside it. "Oh! Alysia!" No doubt, he looked a bit more startled than she did. "And you have the red bird. Ehm...oh, kom in."

Burger got a bouncing stare of icy blue eyes as the Norskmann blocked Stew's entrance. "Get lost, little bird. I'll take it from here."

Stew has been dismissed. Not a surprise really, he's getting used to the brush offs. He gives Howe, Alysia and Guthorm a nod, that none of them pay any attention to, before pulling Howe's office door closed.

There is still paperwork to be done and no matter how badly he wishes an end to his employers?, until that time he has little choice. It's do the work or watch as they torture and slaughter his family.

Stew slowly makes his way back to his desk, wishing he were a fly on the wall inside Howe's office.

Alysia stood behind a chair, looking a little bit amused by Howe's sly, smug expression. Despite her apparent aplomb, she was uncomfortably conscious of Guthorm standing behind her. With a blaster somewhere on his person. While she doubted the efficacy of the weapon against her, the sturdy Othinsson was definitely not someone she cared to have at her back while her attention was devoted to the almost unctuous lawyer.

"Pleasure. . . " Come now, Mr. Howe. Lies, no matter how practiced, will not serve you well with me. I doubt my presence in your office has anything of pleasure on it." She smiled a bit. Her eyes were still cold, and when she spoke again, her voice was blunt, having lost the usual low, dulcet cadence. "I suspect you know damned well why I am here— actually, I would be disappointed if you didn't know. Let us assume that I should be disappointed, and thus, I will humor you."

She moved her hands to rest upon the high back of the chair she stood behind, gazing across Howe's desk. Alysia flexed her fingertips lightly and her ivory claws grazed the supple leather upholstery. "You spoke of what I suspect was a hypothetical situation. So, hypothetically, what would your price be, to buy Lucien Mallorek's life and safety from you and yours?"

"Do we have a deal, dear Ylith' Or should I just have Othinsson there shoot you in the head with his pretty new Blood toy' I am sure it will take you months to recuperate from that!"

The priestess burst into laughter then, peals of melodious laughter. The tensions from her shoulders eased with the slight sound of rustling, of unseen wings unleashed. "Do you really believe your Man-pet back there is fast enough' I wouldn't wager that his age and scars and the sheer stupidity of his humanity won't slow him down before I take his little toy away and break him. It might be interesting to see what his little toy does to your flesh."

Her claws sunk in to the back of the chair, scoring the smooth leather upholstery with an unpleasant, discordant sound. "While I may indeed have the ability to bring you his head, I don't think I have the motivation. Lankyn means nothing to me - at the moment - but I think he means a great deal to you," she purred, "and quite possibly more to you than a mere mortal lover means to me."

"Every moment that your opponents remain alive, Howe, you have failed," Alysia continued. She calmly gazed at the lawyer, a spider snug in the center of his web, then nonchalantly tossed his business card onto his desk, where it flared with white fire and was reduced into a neat pile of ash. "I don't care for the price. No deal, Howe."

Alysia smiled politely as Howe went on at length, apparently trying to find a button to push that would get an interesting reaction from her. She locked up her rage inside, distracting herself by picturing Howe's current form, flesh flayed into ribbons and the oozing fascia beneath pulped and torn. As he demanded recompense for the destroyed chair, she sighed wistfully and again began to idly shred the ruined upholstery. It sounded like cat sharpening its claws.

"Othinsson, see her out. If she gives you any trouble, shoot her in the head with your new Blood toy. If nothing else, it will be amusing to watch her jerk and spasm while her body attempts to recoup."

He was dismissing her. Her eyes narrowed and nostrils flared in irritation for a moment. She growled almost inaudibly as she turned to offer Guthorm a savage smirk. Alysia then looked back at the beady-eyed lawyer, whose attention was now pointedly fixed on a file.

"Obviously you and I have different ideas about the value of things, Mister Howe. And....since you'd like compensation for my haphazard destruction of your property, let's make things fair." She nodded toward the damaged chair, kicking it aside and setting it afire with a brush of her fingertips. The varnished wood popped and smoked as it ignited, and the flames licked blue and hungry at the floor beneath. "Perhaps I've become so petty and spiteful that I'd as soon see what I love destroyed as put a price upon it."

She sketched a sardonic bow toward Howe and turned, pausing by Guthorm at the door. Holding his gaze for a moment, she removed a bauble from her left arm, raising it near his eyes so Othinsson could see the detailing: etched arabic silver, studded with a design of gold beading along the edge. Her fingertips curled around the armband, reducing the fine workmanship to a blob of mangled bright metal.

"Treacherous cur," Alysia hissed at Guthorm. She dropped the lump of silver at his feet and swept past him, adding sarcastically over her shoulder to Howe, "Send me a bill."

Near the end of his meeting with Alysia, Howe intentionally gave all his attention singularly to the papers in the file folder. An order for office supplies no less and far from entertaining. But Howe refuses to give an inch. Games are like air to him and he knows when to hold "em, knows when to fold "em, knows when to walk away and absolutely when to run!

He isn't running now. However their meeting is over, until the time she's willing to capitulate that is and that time will come, Howe is determined. He will make it his personal cause.

The burning chair is ignored until Alysia has left his office, then with a wave of his hand, it vanishes. The burned spot on his expensive oriental rug on the other hand royally pisses him off! He'd handpicked it years ago and now it is ruined. He will be sure and send her the bill, but that's not all he's planning on gifting the bitch!

Rhy"Din, it is a reprehensible place! No respect!

Howe decides to make it his goal to teach the locals that lesson; starting with Alysia and her under appreciated mortal lover, Lucky. But right now, he is going to review the image orb of the meeting. He may have missed some nuances, and they may be useful when it comes to exploiting the two lovebirds.

Howe has image orbs everywhere; here in the offices, at the Red Dragon Inn, sitting nestled in trees that line the Bloods property. Better to watch everything then to miss a single important detail. It's a tactic he's learned to use and appreciate fully.

Howe looks over at Guthorm, noting the man's demeanor. Interesting, the Norseman looks angry, irritated, perhaps that is even a taint of betrayal lingering there"

"You alright, Othinsson' You should ignore her. She's simply behaving according to her nature, as Raphael would insist." Howe's laugh is bitter and spiteful, a reflection of his opinion of Raphael, although it is unlikely that the Norseman has any idea who Howe is talking about.

Howe stands and makes his way to where he keeps the image orb stashed; out of sight hence few are likely to notice and less would know to object. He slides it free of its hiding place, never once considering the wisdom of such an action with Othinsson as witness.

"Hmm, now, let's review shall we?" Howe's smile is sly, evil, oily while his voice gleeful. "I think we've made headway, don't you? Must say I am looking forward to presenting the Lady Ylith with her mortal lover's severed head. She has after all agreed it means so little to her.?

But Howe is watching Guthorm like a hawk would its prey. Alysia's destruction of the silver trinket and the current expression on the man's face intrigue him. Howe is now firmly convinced that Guthorm has truly become one of his.

And not by contract or the stealing of the man's soul but by the hands of those Guthorm may have once trusted and called friend. Yes, yes, it's good to be Howe today! So little effort for so much reward.

Vanity is Howe's favorite of the seven deadly sins, but wrath and pride work well too.