Price of Power

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Price of Power
« on: Sep 11, 2016, 08:55:27 PM »


Eight Months Ago


Paging doctor Aizen, paging doctor Aizen


The hospital is quiet as a tomb in the late hours. Most of the patients slumber in their beds of their own free will or with the help of this drug or that. A lone nurse sits at the desk in a cross-section that leads to each hall. When the sun is up the cross-section is a beehive of activity with nurses checking charts. Doctors making their inspection rounds then having the nurses do their light work.


At night, there isn’t such excitement. Even within a realm such as Rhydin. At least not every night. There are always exceptions. Like within the terminal care wards. The rooms for those who are unable to breath on their own or under observation. The dying without much hope. The comatose. The forgotten.


Elegant fingers take a medical chart from its magnetic strip while proceeding into the dim room of one Robert Magnus. The patient within lays propped up by pillow and pneumatic mattress. Tubes run from his nostrils to some manner of machine anchored to the wall above his head. Other tubes and sensors monitor his heart rate and vitals. The man is dying, no medical/magical chance even in Rhydin. No family, few friends. A tumor that’s been slowly merging the hemispheres of his brain.


Robert’s eyes open when the door clicks shut. “Back again do-” he trails off at the unfamiliar face that greets him.


“Doesn’t look good here, Mr. Magnus.” the doctor says in gentle tones. “Have the hallucinations started?”


“Yeah. Thought my mom was at my bedside earlier. She’s been gone for twenty years.” he says between coughs.


“There’s a possible cure for you, Mr. Magnus. However the procedure is quite radical.” A sense of true concern flows from the doctor’s lips as he turns piercing blue eyes upon Robert.


“At this point, Doc. Lay it on me, I don’t have a whole lot to lose.” Robert lifts his hands up in a helpless gesture, but with hopeful eyes.


“I can introduce a regenerative organism into your bloodstream that will eat away at the tumor as a means to defend itself from the malign byproduct of your body.” the doctor says evenly.


“What sort of organism?” Robert sits up straighter, clearly worried about some crackpot suddenly in his room.


“A black blood cell.” the doctor says with little flair.


“Now I know you’re blowing smoke, ‘Doc’. There’s no such thing.” Robert tries to laugh, ultimately coughing up a bit of blood.


“Ah, but there is such a thing. Predominantly found within creatures such as vampires, ghouls, and in rare cases, zombies.” The words are delivered dispassionately. Even clinical in tone.


“Then how come it’s never been documented?” Clearly skeptical. His hand is inching towards the call button for the nurse down the hall.


“How often have these creatures actually been put under the microscope? The groups that want them dead hold little interest in the science or mysticism that allows them to exist. They kill it, burn it, and call it Christmas.”


Robert’s chin falls to rest against his chest in thought. The man at his bedside had a point with that one. The people who seek cures are often in a vast minority, while others prefer the easy way. Kill them all and let the gods sort them out.


"I can help you," the doctor says in a gentler way.


"At what price?"


The doctor’s lips spread into a fanged smile. Pleased as punch. "You are a biochemist, correct?"
Re: Price of Power
« Reply #1 on: Sep 11, 2016, 09:05:15 PM »


Present Day


“Dude, you better not be lying about this shit. Looks like a fuckin red M&M.” It even smelled like one, chemical candy coating and all. Anton Bashir is never one to be swayed by peer pressure, however...what Cezar is offering him, made that an easy thing to look past.


“Just trust me. Once you try one, you’ll see.” Cezar grins from ear to ear while holding the red pill out to Anton.


“It’ll make me stronger and shit, for real?” Still skeptical, and rightfully so.


“Do more than that, if you’ve got it in you. Said your dad was some big shot, fae right? One of them lords?” Cezar cocks his head to the side in curiosity.


“s’what mom always said. Always spoke about him like he was. Going on about summer being his domain, couldn’t stand winter and only tolerated spring. Weird shit.” Anton shakes his head and looks at the pill again. “First one’s free, yeah?”


“A thing like this, can’t go on word alone. So yeah, first one’s free.” Cezar keeps the pill offered up.


Anton’s dark fingers take up the red dot and tosses it into his mouth. He bites down and expects a nasty flavor. The drug’s got a chocolate taste to it, real sweet. Below that’s a coppery undertone. Probably made using copper pans. He heard about that from his mom. Copper rods put into cheeses and shit to make them turn blue.


Nothing happens. A placebo.


“You’re so full of sh-” About to tell Cezar off, Anton abruptly clutches his chest. His heart started racing, pounding against his chest.


A heavy gasp for air shoves him to his knees as he literally feels his hair growing out of his skull. His stomach clenches and ripples in upon itself painfully. Eyes wide, he looks down upon the wet ground and watches the cracks become fissures as his pupils dilate. Cezar’s snickering stabs into his ears the way a steak knife drags along a porcelain plate. The world around Anton literally explodes into vibrancy.


“Well Anton, now that you got yer dick wet. Want the dime bag?” Cezar grins while crouching before the boy.


Anton stares up at the sky, seeing the stars for the first time. As they really are. The celestial bodies behind the bright lights. His body’s expanded, stretching clothes tightly, but he doesn’t care. He’s starving, dehydrated, horny, and sated all at once. “I want more….” he shivers, while licking his lips.


“Gotta pay to play…” Cezar says while dangling the little ziploc baggie over Anton’s face.


“How much?” Anton pleads without meaning too.


“How much ya got?”


“Anyth-” Anton’s words are cut off by Cezar’s lips upon his own. He feels the other man’s tongue push another capsule of the drug past his teeth. He doesn’t care that this is his first kiss from a man. Another time, another place, he’d be screaming, his skin crawling at the idea. Right now, though? He didn’t care as he cups Cezar’s face.


“Come with me, little Faerie. We’re gonna have us a ball…” Pulling the other man up, the two stagger down the alley and out into the street. The night is suddenly pulsating with untapped potential.

Re: Price of Power
« Reply #2 on: Sep 11, 2016, 09:07:03 PM »


Cezar is with the authorities, do we eliminate him?


No, that would make it look like he was important.


But what if he -


But nothing. Cezar is doing exactly as instructed. Introduce the product to our target market.


You knew he’d be taken into custody?


It was inevitable. As are prime carrier, he is the face at every instance where the product was reported.


If they discover…


if by ‘They’ you mean the Watch and it’s outsourced retainers, they won’t. To break down any pills they confiscate means putting them in the same solutions we tested them against. By now, Cezar is in general population.


Wouldn’t the Watch have searched him?


The traditional places, yes.


“You’ve got one hour…” the guard pushes Cezar into the main yard so he can ‘socialize’.


He feels his skin crawl knowing the others scattered across the square, fenced in area, are watching him. Even in the holding cell the whispers had reached him. They were all curious about this brand new high. The ultimate high. And he just smiles. A possession record is a small price to pay for what comes next. He looks up at the fence covering the top of the pen. The entire place felt like a bird cage. Even looked like one with the rounded dome and its iron bracings. The thing about cages are...eventually the animals get free.


The guards deloused and made him drink some disgusting concoction that forced him to puke his guts out, shortly after being charged. Making sure he wasn’t trying to sneak contraband in his intestines they’d said. He smiled and took a look around while walking towards the little set of bleachers. He can see where they’ve been bolted to the ground. Sitting down, he starts to untie his shoe. Cezar slips it off and sets it aside, then removes his sock. This was going to hurt. On the bottom of his foot is a small incision mark and a hard lump. Walking on it alone hurt. Removing it would be torture.


He shakes his hand to dislodge the onset of a spasm, willing his thumb nail to elongate and reopens the incision with a smile.


“Ready Sven?”


“uh huh”


“Andre?”


“Yeah”


“Maxi?”


“Okay”



“All right fellas, let’s go.”


A flash of fire precedes the sounds of bending bars and the thud of shoes on concrete as four men break from their cells. In seconds an alarm sounds off.  “Crunch time gentlemen,” Cezar says to them as they round a corner.


Ahead of them guards have mobilized. Three in the front with stun batons, behind them a pair with shotguns. Somewhere in the back, a sixth yelled, “On the ground!” His eyes red as the sun. A meta of some sort.


Cezar from behind the three yelled, “Attack! Andre, you’re up first.”


“With pleasure…” The thug moves to the front of the pack. In an instant, glistening metal covers his body from head to toe, turning his hair black as night. On a good day he’s lucky to just cover his arms, which earned him the name Iron-Hand. Riding the wave of Cezar’s red pills, he’s a living tank.


Two wide haymakers sweep the guards armed with stun batons aside. The men crash into the walls of the hallway heavily as the shotguns roar. In close quarters the weapons are like dragons bellowing. Huddled behind the charging Andre, the others clap hands over their ears. At a gesture from Cezar they hang back, watching him engage the remaining three. Rubber bullets are flying everywhere. Especially bouncing off of Andre.


His armored hands grab the hot barrels of the shotguns, jerking both guards forward into twin clotheslines. A blast rings louder than that of the shotguns as something red, and wet splatters against Andre’s face. Lost in his focus on the shotgunners, he didn’t notice the leader pull a weapon. The destroyed remnants of a  .357 falls to the ground along with two of the man’s fingers.


The guard clutches his bloodied hand in pain and fear as he falls back against the wall, sliding to the floor. His gaze is fixated on the scorch mark in Andre’s forehead. Not even a dent in the metal exterior. He tries to speak, but can’t. Shock and pain are taking over as the escaped inmates rush passed him.


“Didn’t see that coming, did you?” Cezar smugly asks before disappearing around the bend and up a short set of steps they erupt into the Birdcage. Two minutes later the sound of a horn goes off. The flash of red light announcing all cells were open.
Re: Price of Power
« Reply #3 on: Sep 11, 2016, 09:28:06 PM »


“Well lads, and ladies..” Cezar gestures to the handful in their midsts. “Did I come through on the promise or what?” He stands before his motley crew, grinning like the cat that caught the canary fucking. Got two for one.


Andre, Sven, and Maxi,  who helped Cezar escape, are scattered amongst the other dozen. Watching reactions as the majority nod. From literally every walk of life conceivable in Rhydin, the criminality before Cezar is stifling. Murderers, rapists, blackmailers, arsonists, traffickers, thieves, and mercenaries oh my.


“Now what?” a voice comes from the back. From the sea of inequity rises a dark haired woman with a miniature pseudo-dragon resting comfortably upon her shoulder. Idly feeding it what looks like a finger, she turns to the others. “We’re busted out, now what? We go our ways and get pinched again for trying to contact our old associates?”


“Excuse me miss, you are?” Cezar leans forward and arches a brow.


“Svetlana Florentine” she says proudly.


“I am so sorry….” Cezar shakes his head in absolute sympathy.


“For..what?” Svetlana cants her head in confusion.


“Your parents giving you that combination of name.Svetlana...translates into some terran languages as "light", "shining", "luminescent", "pure", "blessed", or "holy", depending upon context. Florentine? of or relating to Florence, (of food) served or prepared on a bed of spinach, a cookie consisting mainly of nuts and preserved fruit, coated on one side with chocolate.”


Around her, several began to snicker or outright laugh. Svetlana, far from amused clenched her fists. A distant rumble coming from the heavens above their little hiding place. “How da-” she starts


“I’m just incredibly smart…” Cezar cuts her off, holding up a small baggie with little red pills. And a smile. “See these? They make me smarter…”


Eyes of the gathered widen, recognizing what Cezar holds. They’ve each heard about it...and what it does. “And...I know the source.”


Svetlana breathes in and out of her nose several times, bringing herself down from the anger at Cezar’s words. “You going to answer my question?” She repeats impatiently.


Cezar comes closer and dangles the bag before her nose while Andre, Sven, and Maxi go among the others, handing them all a little baggie. “That’s rather elementary, my dear. You’re going to help me peddle power at really competitive rates.”


Svetlana snatches the bag from Cezar’s grip and looks over the pills inside. “Power? Does it have a name?” Intrigued now, she looks from what’s in her hand to the man before her.


“Naturally.” Cezar grins, watching the others take a  little sample of their goodie bags.


All around Svetlana, men and women convulse and spasm in the initial throes of the drug. The overwhelming feeling of becoming more than what they were before. She looks to them feeling a chill run up her spine. Even with this feeling that she shouldn’t take one, she pushes the red pill passed her lips. Like candy it glides down her throat. Above, the rumbling turns into a full on thunderstorm.


“Ascend. It’s called Ascend.”



Camden Towers Hotel


“We need to find the source of this Ascend.” Cicil Contanto drums his fingers on the top of the table as he looks around to his associates. Taking up a white handkerchief from the pocket of his black suit and polishes the little black horns protruding from his crimson forehead.


“I dunno, Cicil, it’s certainly been keeping the Watch on its toes and out of our business…”  Always voicing the positive side, Roderic Vank shrugged his massive shoulders. At 7’4, Roderick dwarfed every last person at the table. His blue fingers stroke at a pitch dark goatee on his chin thoughtfully while focusing on his counterparts


“I think what Contanto is getting at, Roddy, is we need to find the source and make it ours. So far, no one knows where it came from or who’s producing it. That means they’re connected.” His voice barely a gruff hissing squeal, Kreel Vega sits hunched over the table, nibbling at a rotting apple in his hands. From the red of his eyes, to the scrunched up features of his face, Kreel’s very image screamed giant rat.


Rain cascades down the windows of their conference room. Something about the gloomy weather outside has each of them shifting in a desire to move this meeting along quickly. Like an itch between their shoulder blades.


Cecil pauses before taking his turn to speak. His fingertips neatly fold the handkerchief to place it back within his pocket. “Then we follow the trail to the fountainhead. This Cezar and Anthony.”


“The boy, Anthony. He’s all but fallen off of the radar since the first report. The other one, Cezar was part of that jail break. Where shall we start?” Roderic leans back in his chair pensively. Silence falls over the trio as they consider which direction to take. The simple fact that one of the original pair introducing the drug has all but vanished, stuck out like a nail to be hammered.


Minutes stretch into the longest hour any of them have spent in silence when…


“So many people looking for me…” the words ripple across the room like an icy hand.


“Who the fu -” Cicil’s words are cut off by the iron grip of a hand suddenly clenching his adam’s apple.


“Now, now…” the shadow shrouded intruder continues from behind Cicil’s chair. “When you talk about someone behind their back, always expect for word of it to reach their ears. Especially in this town.”


The words are confident, strong as the grip cutting off oxygen to Cicil’s lungs. “Now, I’m going to let go...and the four of us are going to have a conversation, because Manners Maketh Man. It’s our ability to listen to a proposal without completely rejecting it that makes us civilised. Beasts drink from a bottle, the civilised...drink from a glass.”


His grip upon Cicil eases, but his hands only move to rest upon the demon-born’s shoulders. “I bid you to listen carefully to what I’ve been sent to tell you.”
Re: Price of Power
« Reply #4 on: Sep 11, 2016, 09:36:59 PM »


In a recent string of bizarre events, Cicil Contanto, one of Rhydin’s major information brokers dissolved his company which resulted in the liquidation of 18.3 Million in various currencies and goods. Contanto’s office has refused to comment on just what prompted this decision. Despite a majority employees receiving their severance payments, many are left with little to show for their years of work.


Cezar turns off the video feed.



It seems they’re starting to notice…


“That’ll last all of week. The city as a whole has the attention span of a hamster. Wait, we shouldn’t insult hamsters like that, they can’t help what they are.” Cezar replies with his eyes on the floor.


“So what do you want us to do?” Svetlana asks after a momentary pause.


It’s elementary, my dear. We increase production...saturate the market at a low rate.


A shared grin spreads across the faces of Cezar, Antonio, and Svetlana as they rise from their kneeling positions before an empty chair. Though the mind that gave birth to Ascend is miles away, they could feel his presence there among them. His energy vibrating in their veins.


“You heard him, demand for the product is high. And a good business never disappoints its customer base…” Cezar says with a gentle laugh.


“I know just where to start…” Svetlana says, putting her arms around Cezar and Antonio...pulling them in close.


“And where is that, ‘lana?” Antionios hand glides down, curving into her back pocket to feel the firmness of her backside. Something he’s grown to enjoy the feel of.


“Old Market, Dragon’s Gate,....and just for the sheer fun of chaos...let’s deliver some to local dealers” She sways with the boys, laughing in a bawdy way.


“Does that mean we need to schedule a meeting with…..?” Cezar asks slyly.


The other two just look at him with a shared expression of: D’uh!


Cezar looked at them for a moment before nodding. “Well then...let’s aim to misbehave.”
Re: Price of Power
« Reply #5 on: Sep 11, 2016, 10:37:59 PM »


Droves of local self proclaimed aristocracy and modern wealth found their way to the Beauchamp Opera house. Some have come to it every month for years, others new and wishing to penetrate the circles that keep the wheels of the city spinning. For many, a night out to the opera was a matter of business. Only a select few came for pleasure, it's true they all enjoyed the performances. But the signatures and papers exchanged during Intermission were the real dramas.


Tonight they came out for the quintessential opera by Giacomo Puccini. La boheme.


Among them was a particular figure, weaving a path way through the throng as if he wasn't there. Bodies parting before him by unseen hands to allow him passage to the upper balcony. Each step carrying a heavy jingle of spurred boots as a number of carriages begin pulling up out front.


One of them carrying a particular patron. Alone, for a wonder, the statuesque redhead slipped from her transport, hair a mass of barely contained curls that tumbled to her shoulders.  Midnight dark emerald eyes flashed over the masses with quiet contempt. Calm and confident, she'd come seeking information, although she could help being amused at the venue. The art of mixing business and pleasure was one she indulged in as often as possible.  Dressed to the nines in a gown of sleek black silk and black diamonds, it was in perfect keeping with the venue, fit like a glove to curves that caused a stir in her wake.  She could not help what she was, but the attention barely registered. Passing through the crowd with a ripple, she made her way up the carpeted steps and along a hallway that would lead her to her rendezvous.


The ushers and staff begin helping the audience filter to the auditorium, announcing the show will begin in fifteen minutes. As the lady seeks out her contact, two figures; a man and woman materialize at her elbows. They don't touch her, merely whisper. "This way Madame. You're expected on the North Balcony."


The air around the pair hums with an otherworldly energy that can't possibly be their own. However the woman, a short figure with impish features smiles softly to display the faint points of fings between kissable lips. The faintest of nubbed horns poke from the top of her forehead as she comes to a stop and turns to hold open a curtain.


A subtle nod, and she slipped behind the held curtain.  The aura of energy had barely warranted more than a sniff - that her contact was powerful enough to enthrall others hardly surprised her.  Anyone capable of doing even a hint of the whispers that had reached her ears would need to. With the certainty that only an eternity of power and command could bring, she straightened within the alcove, eyes immediately seeking the man behind the elegantly orchestrated entrance. 


The lights slowly begins to dim casting her and the only other figure on the balcony into darkness. Inhumanly emaciated, he turns to offer her a single nod. Dressed down, unlike most in attendance, in spurred boots and a long green coat. He even tips the flat-brimmed flat-crown hat on his head to her. Among the wealthy, he appears to be a man out of time. “Madame…”


The single word rolls off his lips with an intimate intonation as he turns to watch the opening curtain.




Ebony flames rose against the emerald.  Alone, now, she felt no further need to blend with the crowd. Returning his nod with a dip of her chin, she moved toward the balcony.  She took note of his attire, how the clothes hung on his skeletal frame, and added a brief smile. "Monsieur....". Her accent was subtle, and old, speaking to another time and place.  Settling into a seat, she joined him in watching the curtain rise above the stage, the opening strains floating through the air.


Elegantly tapered fingers idly lilt with the notes like one who routinely conducts a varied ensemble into a symphony. He leans on the armrest closest to her, adjusting his position to uncross and recrossed his legs for the illusion of comfort. The shift also a means to allow them to talk in comfortable privacy with the opera shielding them from most attempts at listening in.


She echoed his movements, half turning toward him, porcelain skin glowing in the reflected light of the performance below. Black silk flowed and shifted as she positioned herself with innate grace.  The inquiries that had brought her here this evening hinted at delightful prospects, assuming they were true. Turning her attention to her companion, plush lips curved into a smile that hinted at both pleasure and pain. "What an inspired meeting place."


"One should always strive to inspire..." he replies casually. Once more the words come smoothly with a linguistic control leaving his voice devoid of anything to register.


"Plus, a little culture never harmed anyone." Still fingers move with the flow of tempo the notes ride on. In the shallow lighting, his features are gaunt and angular.


"Indeed. Shame the young seem to forget the niceties." Her words rose and fell, a subtle purr serving to carry them through the dancing notes.   Another evening, she might have allowed herself to let the passion of Puccini's composition wash over her.  Tonight, however, she was here for a purpose beyond pure pleasure. "Do you prefer to discuss business entre-acte? Or shall we begin?" Where he was lines and angles, she was sensuous curves, shadows and light serving to hint and hide as she took a breath.


"It's the need for immediate gratification..." he comments to her observation on the young. "The powerful have socially bred them to be impatient and dismissive of culture. A long term killing stroke."


A smile tugs at his features, approving of the subversive tactic before turning to look upon her directly. "The opening is slow enough, m'dear. We can start our preliminary salvos. See what turns up by the end of the first act."


"They have become much easier prey, I'll grant.  But then - most were never a challenge." Settling flame-accented eyes to his, she let out a throaty chuckle. "As you will then. Perhaps, if we can come to an agreement, there will be time for...other amusements.  I understand you have taken on a rather...extensive project.  Somewhere for those with...darker desires - to indulge themselves?"




His smiles turns predatory, only briefly as he responds. "THis is Rhydin m'dear. Anyone can indulge their darker desire...and just call el Verdugo afterwards to take care of the mess. If they don't own a pig farm."


He's teasing her of course, but does not. "Word certainly seems to be spreading about it, this is true."


"I have staff of my own, I assure you. And exquisitely trained to deal with such trivialities. But the Watch can get so - difficult - about certain things. Even here. And I have a feeling they would be less understanding than usual with me." With a dismissive shrug, she shifted in the seat like a coiled snake. "Well, you can hardly construct what sounds like a city beneath a city without some attention, although I will congratulate you.  It took a decent amount of charm to get me here. More than usual."


"I'm sure your staff is well proportioned to see to your needs." He repostes cheekily. "However, your other statement is true too. On the surface, the lack of any cohesive law or judicial force sounds appealing at first. A disorganized policing force outside of a handful of districts and units means less need to hide one's work. A gilded cage that hems in more primal urges due to the necessity of survival. So many souls crammed into one small plot of land. Surveillance orbs, decrepit witches scrying on their neighbors for gossip. Privacy is a short supply commodity..."


He pauses there, before becoming truly verbose and returns his attention back to La boheme. "Patience is the last virtue I possess...possibly. What are you seeking in regard to my endeavor?" Going straight for the throat of the matter.


Not a flicker betrays her thoughts, a vague smile tugging at vermillion lips while he spoke, and lingering a moment longer while she considered her response. "Virtue is not something I cultivate, as a rule. But I can restrain myself so long as the reward proves worth it. And while, at the moment, I find ample opportunities elsewhere - why travel, when release might be found so much closer to home?" Turning to face him, she arched just enough to give him a lovely view of pale skin against inky silk.  "Privacy I have, security I have - what I seek, is an escape. Somewhere I can indulge without concern for either. And others who are so inclined."


His head inclines to her statement while watching the performance below. "Despite the visceral nature in our hearts...we mustn't forget what separates us from the beasts who've yet to evolve into something greater."


A heartbeat long pause before going on to say, "I think you can find accommodations available, Miss DuWinter." Finally saying her name. "A place to gorge yourself on succulent variety..."


"Semantics, then. A predator can stalk its prey, waiting until the opportune moment to strike.  One does not call it virtue, but wiles. The intelligence and forethought required to survive undetected, as we have all done for centuries, millenia..."


A bright, sharp laugh broke from her lips, eyes sparkling as she regarded him with amusement. "You've done your homework. And what will such - accommodations, cost me...?  I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage, all my wiles were not quite enough to gain a name..."


His dark gaze lingers on her, following the line of her jaw to the curve of her lips and then plunging lower. At some point the music long stopped. It's at this juncture that her host pushes to his feet. "I'm Cain....Cain Romulus. As to what your accommodations will cost you? That can be discussed at another meeting. Perhaps over a digestif."


His hand extends to her, palm up and expectantly in the stretching silence that finds her rising, allowing herself a miniscule smirk. "A pleasure - or at least I am assuming it will be.  Please, call me Ravyn." She slid a perfectly manicured hand into his, although it was simply a formality, and excuse for contact, as it were.  Standing before him, she looked up, chest rising and falling beneath her gown. "May I call you Cain? And I assure you, I shan't ask after your family at all..."


Chill to the touch, his fingers entwine with hers to pull her towards the balcony edge. "M'dear Ravyn...consider this an offering of what you can expect to come."


Cain slides his hands along her shoulders, tracing the silken lines of pale skin along her back finding clasps and ties while lifting up the back of her dress brazenly. Far below, all eyes were turned to their balcony. Vacant, expressionless. Every being in attendance stood enthralled. "My offering to you. Indulge yourself..."


His breath slithers along her neck as he whispers..."Command them, and they will obey you."


Onyx flames rose against her eyes, plush lips parting as he brought her to the edge of the balcony, the bracing cold of his touch leaving a line of goosebumps along satin skin. Gazing down upon the enraptured crowd, she spared a glance over her shoulder at her cadaverous host. "Anything I command?"


She felt the kiss of chill flesh, the caress of air as he lifted her skirts, and her back arched, the unbroken expanse of pale, heated skin exposed to his gaze.  Fingers wrapping along the railing, she braced herself, breath catching as she considered her first command.  Her voice carried throughout the hall, strident and sure, with just a hint of the otherworldly behind it.


"Strip."


The sea of silence breaks before her eyes as the multitudes cast off their garments, eager to do her bidding. Young, old, firm and supple, the sea of flesh ebbs for her next order. At her back, Cain undoes the last tether to loosen the anchoring strings of Ravyn's dress.


Watching, she could not resist a delighted laugh. She had bedded and killed more than even stood before her, in every variety, but the novelty was enough. Silk slithered over her skin to the floor, leaving her in heels and jewels, and not a stitch besides. Pausing, she rested her chin on her shoulder, winking at him. "Been waiting a bit to do that, have you?"


"That? No. This? Yes..." as he hurls her over the balcony edge into the waiting arms of her living buffet not far below. "Be gluttonous, Ravyn. Feed until they're not but husks." From a pocket, he takes a small resealable plastic baggie and drops it after her. The pouch contains five small red Ascend pills.


"Variety is the spice of life after all..." he murmurs to himself watching the crowd surge forward. His hand rises above the horde as they're consumed with a lustful ardour. A true vamphyri child, Cain's lust for life flows through all of his thralls. Their focus completely centered on the disrobed Ravyn.
Re: Price of Power
« Reply #6 on: Sep 11, 2016, 10:42:09 PM »


Caught by surprise, she spun in the air for a moment, twisting to hit the ground with an impact-absorbing roll.  In theory, that should have put her in a perfect position to deal with the horde...but the reality if the matter is its had been centuries since she faced so many on her own.  Just enough time, truly, to shoot a baleful glare at the balcony before hands, lips and bodies bury her in their ranks.  Her eyes flash to pitch dark, their lustrous green disappearing, as she feels something small pushed between her lips and down her throat by an invading tongue.  A roar tore from her throat as she surged from beneath the pile, echoes of Hell ringing through an incoherent word.


"Now we begin...first the strings..." a mystical gauntlet bleeds into existence upon Cain’s left hand. Two large gems glittering in special settings, a  third remains empty.  Below he watches the unclothed mass pick up belts, lacings and other strands to act as ropes and tethers. His hands begin to move as one conducts a symphony.


Tasting Ravyn's lips through his thrall, feeling everything they feel...feeding on their lustful urges. Cain watches them press close to each other, each one trying to get at Ravyn. The baleful look not unnoticed, but he does smile. He feels the stirrings from below...and waits.


Snaking loose from their bindings, crimson waves glow with an unholy light as shadowy flames chased themselves across her skin.  Snarling, Ravyn’s eyes a glitter with malice. A ring of flame swells across the floor with her at its center; filling the air with the smell of charred flesh as the slower thralls are caught in its wake.  Those close enough found themselves caught by searing hands, digging into pliant flesh as she tore souls from burning bodies.  Whatever she'd swallowed had flipped a long-dormant switch, and a single word hissed between her teeth as she began to feed. "Cum." In her current state, nothing less than wringing every ounce of blood and essence from the crowd would do.


"Well, that didn't take long, " he croons in delight as fire and fell energy surges through the mass to push them back from their target. "Now the melody..."


Fire sears away epidermal layers, hair and flesh as thralls are caught in Ravyn's circle. Lurching in place, burning bodies alongside the unscathed writhe within her mystical meathooks. Blood and seed come in rending torrents, splattering against her flesh. The room fills with a capella of sin and pain.


With each soul, her savagery grew, lips pulled into a cruel facsimile of a smile as she moved through the crowd.  Screams echoed through the opera house as she tore a heart from the chest of one stumbling elder statesman, rending soul from flesh in the same movement.  Nails punctured the organ, sending gouts of blood over her as she flung it away. She pirouettes,  spinning a kick in the face of some gracefully-aging grand dame.  Souls swirled as she drank them in. black leathery wings unfold with a nearly lost tearing sound, as she stalked the crowds, leaving rivers of blood and viscera in her wake. The hemorrhaging chaos swirling around her brought with it sensations she’s nearly forgotten.


Blood and viscera flow with purpose  beneath her wrath as every soul flashes briefly, it's hue dimming.  This river of pain ripples into a spreading circle, taking with it the other mortal fluids being spilled. Where it touches mortals are overcome by the mixture of energies.


Thralls engage in their own acts of hedonistic horror. Some violent, all of them lewd as the horde relinquishes control of its base urges. At her feet a young man lays sprawled on his back, gazing up at her. He looks at her, but his eyes don't see through the layer of blood spattering his features. Youthful, virile, strong.."Please," he whispers.


Surrounded by such sadistic visions, she let out a dark, dangerous laugh. Heels clicked to a muffled pause, blood-glazed black diamonds glittering as she bent at the waist, hands clasped beneath the spread of wings as she gazed down on the athletic young man splayed at her feet.  Her eyes glowing black, she uncurled one arm to trail a crimson nail along his chest, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake..."So polite...Please what, mortal?" Harmonics rose and fell behind her words, bringing him to the edge without thought, leaving him panting and aching as she awaited his response.


Under her nail, his back arches unnaturally as he's pulled upwards on heels and head. A smouldering chair falls to pieces near his head, the dancing light making his features appear gaunt, haunted. In his chest, his heart beats loud enough to be heard.


"Use me..."The words are simpered through gritted teeth as his body tenses.


With a predatory purr, she straightened, setting the point of a stiletto heel at his throat. "Silly boy. All you are - is sustenance. And I never fuck anything less than the best." Crooking a finger, she brought spurts of cream arching against her thigh as she drove her heel to the floor, severing his jugular and swallowing his soul in the instant of release. Covered in a layer of blood and fluids, she glanced up at the balcony, smirking at her host who blows her a kiss.


He then waves with a laugh as five men breach the circle, coming at her from all sides. Just as the others, one thing on their mind. Behind them, others are crawling from beneath seats and bodies. Her eyes narrowed as preternatural senses caught her assailants approach.  Kicking her heel free of the pretty corpse, she spun gouts of black flames flash from her hands and catching each of the five in a searing column of death. Lit by their merrily burning bodies, she winked and blew a kiss back to the balcony. Puffing a sodden strand of hair from her eyes, she stretched, wings expanding behind her as she waited for the next wave. The fallen stagger and collapse to their knees in upright positions around her. The tops of their heads smoking like snuffed candles.


Almost there...., Cain thinks to himself as he continues to direct this symphony. Gathering around her in concentric circles, the naked masses stare on with hungry smiles. Their strings continuing to be pulled by both vampire and Succubus.


Ravyn, at their center in conduit position. Cain holds up his gauntleted hand and calls out three distinct words in ancient tongues.  The reaction is immediate, flowing blood lifts from the floor into a circle of power. The room fills with red light from the blood beginning to glow. All around her, the gathering sways in place as blood and fluid are ripped from the mortal coils in a visceral tsunami.


Wings snapped and raised as the bloodstorm rose around Ravyn, called by words she had not heard from any throat but her own in more years than bore thinking about. Letting her head fall back, she took a deep breath, reveling in the blood and flames. The sense of home. The influx of souls drew a keening wail from her throat.


Anchor


Bridge


Seal



The words flow from not only Cain’s lips, but the slain mortals as a coin sized glyph forms on each forehead just before their soul rips itself from their bodies. Blood flows clockwise, the souls counter in a swirling vortex that rises higher and brighter. Above the keening, dark laughter echoes off the walls. A feminine voice. With it a face comes to being along the walls of the crimson flood. Something triggers within the flux of blood magic and fell energies. Ravyn feels it the keenest starting deep inside her, building, climbing higher. A powerful pressure.


Glowing as if lit from within, shadowy flames chase across her skin, flowing and dancing in time with the swirling beat of blood, souls and magic. A rich, throaty laugh bubbled from her lips in answer, like calling to like as she felt a throbbing pull rising within her.  The laughter grows louder and with it the swirling energies quicken. Faster and faster in a pulse. Throbbing, writhing, the circle of bodies presses closer as their life's essence flows uncontrollably. They can't fight it...and don't want to.


Ravyn finds herself intrigued enough not to fight it, although the ground at her feet swirled with ebony flames.  Leather wings curled around her, her gaze pitch black and glowing.  So many souls, so much blood and life that she could scarcely remember when she'd been so sated...except the desire rising as the spell continued to flow and race around her.


And then it all ends. A jerking, jarring halt makes the swirling energies just die in place, falling flat. A premature release of the spell.


"What the fuck!" Cain's angry call comes from the balcony in disbelief.


"All that build up...for...-" The explosion that followed is instantaneous. Energies equally carnal, visceral, and hellish ignite. The concentric circle of bodies explodes in tissue and fluids with Ravyn caught in the epicenter, light and power blasting a hole clear through the roof, collapsing it and throwing Cain off his feet.


Instinctively, her wings closed around her, protecting her blood-drenched body from the blast.  In the aftermath, they unfurled, settling back beneath her skin as she looked around at the carnage they had wrought.  What he'd done, exactly, she did not know - but one was not raised in the infernal courts, the child of a Prince of Hell, without recognizing demonic magic when it was all around.  Covered from head to toe, blood shimmering against jewels and skin as she tossed her head with a sharp laugh.


A voice whispers from the shadows all around.. "This offering is...acceptable.."


With it the presence fades leaving the room still as a freshly dug grave.


In the sudden deathly quiet, she smiled, and moved across the floor, heels clicking wetly as she made her way back to the balcony, onyx orbs scanning for any sign of life.


He's there, cleaning dust from his hat. Fingers place it lightly upon his head while turning to regard her calmly. "Somebody had fun...."


"Was that not the point?" She purred, settling against the balustrade with a smirk. A slow blink, every inch of her body covered in blood and gore.


"Still remains, did you enjoy yourself?" he asks and holds up a finger as if that's the important part. He looks upon her calmly, eyes never leaving her face.


"Of course. It has been a very long time since I let go to that extent..." Turning, she looked back over the still twitching piles of death below. Twisting back toward him, she met his gaze with her own, still swallowed in blackness. "Although, all that junk food..."


"I don't think your lovers will complain if a little extra cushion fills out your thighs and backside." He offers diplomatically. HIs shoulders offer an indifferent shrug.


A soft snort was her only immediate response. A toss of her head, and she leaned against the balustrade. "My lovers, generally, are not the complaining sort. I am rather discerning in that respect."


A smile tugs at his lips but he doesn't say anything further. "You enjoyed yourself, that's the important part."


He turns to look at the moonlight coming through the hole in the roof. "Quite a lovely view too..."


"If I hadn't, I suspect you and I would have nothing further to discuss. Did you? Enjoy the show?  It clearly got you what you wanted." Her eyes never left his face, and she pushed off the railing to stalk towards him.


"Tenfold..." he replies with a single nod.


"So glad I could be of service, then." The hint of sarcasm which accompanied her smirk was a warning shot. "Oh, and one other thing..." Her palm snapped forward, cracking against his face like a gunshot. "If you ever throw me into a mob again, you'll join them in their fate..."


To say such a move wasn't anticipated would be an insult to them both. His head snaps to the side with the hit, the strike accepted because, he got what he wanted. She could have such a petty retaliation. "You say that like I enjoy repeat performances..."


"Haven't the slightest.  Don't much care, to be honest. I assume I'll receive the rest of the necessary information shortly?" She gave a slight shake of her head, the effects of the drug wearing off in due course.


"What information would that be?" Cain tilts his head to the side in partial curiosity.


"About your little project." Waving a hand dismissively, tiny droplets sprayed from the edges of her nails. "Or was there something else you wanted?"


"Much easier to show you, m'dear..." he says and holds out his hand to her. "Let you get a real good view of the size and scale that I operate on..."


She looked from the offered hand to his face with a laugh. "Really. The last time I let you touch me...actually, that didn't end altogether horribly. For me. Or for you." She slid a hand into his, with another slow blink.


A tug pulls her close to his chest to let fingers curl with her own while his off hand gets a handful of her delicious posterior. "One hell-blazer to another, you'll know when you should worry about what I'm going to do to you...first a tour. Then I plan to bend you into a sexual pretzel...."


Lips curled into an amused smile, pressing against him from hip to shoulder. "The tour sounds...fascinating. But I'm afraid I couldn't eat another bite..." Onyx orbs barely ringed with emerald caught his eyes.


"Then I guess you'll just have to exorcise off your meal..." he responds dispassionately.
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