The Official Hanged Man Thread, (Open)

[Ailmaer Alfvaldson]

((Sorry for the delay - Science is a harsh, unforgiving taskmistress. >D I'll be keeping up better from here on out.))

Ailmaer detected the barest of twitches in the man's face, recognizing contempt at the mention of his gods, though whether it was his Watcher or he himself that felt it he could not tell, and thus could not divine its cause - was it dislike for faith in something unknown, or hatred for 'heretical' beliefs? Insignificant. He cared not a whit for the 'Chantry' or the 'Maker', these causes that complicated civilized life ever more than it already was with these troublesome concepts of 'sin' and 'virtue'. Utterly feckless and bemusing, he thought; if these people did not baffle themselves with social mores and simply followed the instincts and impulses granted them from birth...but alas, it was not so. And now the Watcher was in control, the taste of Belenas (the Fade, the Guardian thought simultaneously) even stronger in the air. They had come to the heart of its intent, for which Ailmaer was glad.

"All, not part." He assured, the thought of the thrill of combat already enticing him. Glory in battle - the single tenet of Avvari philosophy, and exactly what he knew the watcher had sensed (and now preyed upon). The Guardian had served demons before (gluttony, desire, pride), and it assured Ailmaer with an enthusiastic snarl that he would not be dissappointed, for desire demons were an ambitious, insatiable lot, never content to fly when they could soar.

"Yes." It wasn't so much a smile as a savage twist of the lips that graced the reaver's face, not terribly becoming across his craggy, rugged countenance, but certainly intimidating. He dragged his filthy nails across the table as he curled his fingers into a fist, their blunt points carving gouges into the wood. "I need bjoda. Strong foes. Purpose, yes? I will kill for you."

[Asyla]

''I have no faith in the Maker that Chantry preaches about. If the maker was such a benevolent god, then why does he demand so much blood in his name, hmm?'

Sheberadze wasn't sure whether he had been an 'heathen' from the start or if it was only her influence that turned him away from petty religion. Either way, she approved.
'I concur. You're a smart man, Aldrin, I can't stop saying that,' she purred seductively into his mind.

'You live within me, merged, but not as one. You experience what I experience, and you seek things of your own. I believe is what he means.'

Sheberadze already figured that out by herself, but she wanted to make Aldrin dependant on her, after all. Each compliment of her's was further festering her influence and corruption.
'Ahh, thank you. What would I do without you, my dear Aldrin, I wonder? For that, you deserve a nice dream.'

And a 'nice dream' he had. Even if it would be unspeakable to others. What would count as damning and unholy in the simpleton's mind, was astonishing and saturating in Sheberadze's eyes. Even now that he safely lumbered away, his desire kept on increasing his mistress' strength. And as she took over the male body, she was pleased.

"All, not part."

'Aldrin' nodded, a smirk on his lips.
"Good," was all he said; Sheberadze was glad that the man had fully accepted the fellow demon rather than only halfly belong to him, like it was the case with Aldrin at the moment. But, depending on the future, Aldrin would either merge with Sheberadze and cease to be, or he'd become a new demon. The possibility of becoming seperated from Sheberadze became smaller and smaller with each passing day.

Even now could she taste the desire Aldrin had fallen victim to, sleeping away and in the firm grip of the Fade. Lucky sod.

"Yes. I need bjoda. Strong foes. Purpose, yes? I will kill for you."

Well, that was easy. Not that 'Malfina' had expected else; Rage Demons were a decisive, simple-minded lot, but a useful lot at that. They also were easier to spot in a human, especially if he had a host as large as this man in front of Aldrin.
"Excellent," Aldrin said, leaning back in satisfaction, "There are many ways to get what we want. First, however, we need to figure out what this place is. I think you haven't been here that long, either. I sense a lot of magic in this place, though. Even if the thought of directly storming at the closest circle of mages is tempting, I doubt even together we would survive long. They have a lot of these, ah, what do they call them... Templars, yes, there. So, I suggest we build ourselves a little reputation in this city first."

Aldrin lowered his arm, brushing some dirt off his armour before looking up again.
"Build up some trust. There are a lot of criminals in this place, I've seen. Not the kind that would satisfy you, I assume, but that'll come in time. Don't you agree?" Aldrin said with a smirk that didn't seem to really fit into that face of his.

[Ailmaer Alfvaldson]

This was the part of dealing that the Guardian was not entirely fond of - namely, the planning. It was a fairly straightforward creatures, as all of its kind were, and not given to thinking on things any longer than absolutely neccesary. Needless to say, Rage demons, as a general rule, were not known for their grandoise schemes, but that was why working with more sophisticated constructs was worth the headache, it supposed. Let this Watcher plot and scheme, so long as it pointed the Guardian at something to kill, it would be pleased.

"Even if the thought of directly storming at the closest circle of mages is tempting, I doubt even together we would survive long. They have a lot of these, ah, what do they call them... Templars, yes, there. So, I suggest we build ourselves a little reputation in this city first." Ailmaer inclined his head in agreement; this city was crawling with a veritable horde of metal men - templars, rather - and he had more than once seen those helmet-clad heads turning in his direction, as if debating whether or not it was worth approaching. A good many of them were merely prey playing at the hunt, scurrying away as soon as he gave a good, throaty snarl, but there were skilled hunters among them, of this he had no doubt. He had seen a shrewd-eyed man the others called 'Knight-Captain Cullen' stalking Lowtown some months ago, obviously the alpha type, though he had long learned that 'thane' as he understood the term never really applied to civilized leaders. He had wondered at the time if he shouldn't make himself known if only to test this Cullen's obvious mettle, but his survival instinct had won out over his lust for battle at the time. Perhaps under the Watcher he might change that.

"Prey." He rumbled, nose wrinkling in a snarl as he thought of the pathetic rats scurrying the streets, cravenly going about their business beneath the notice of the 'guard', which was honestly little better in his experience. He had been asked on more than one trip to establishments like the Hanged Man whether or not he was 'looking for work', but he had found these 'mercenary' jobs to be entirely unsatisfying as a whole. These Watchers were far-seeing, though, and quite given to intricate plotting - if it believed engaging these whelps in their war games would get him closer to something worthwhile, then he would be willing to force patience for a time. After all, it wasn't as if he had anything better to do, was it?

"As you say." He lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug, the pelt draped across them seeming to bristle with the movement. "I can do this." It seemed that was really all there was to it. Would the Watcher wish to talk more? He decided he needn't stay to find out - they had said all that they needed to say, and there was no more reason to continue. "You will find me?" He asked as he rose, his stool groaning at the release of pressure as if in relief. He supposed he might be able to track this man down again himself with some effort, but the stench of this city was pungent, and he would much rather not. He himself was hard to miss, at any rate, and it wouldn't be difficult if he didn't deliberately try to stay out of sight. He cast the man (whose name he had yet to ask, or truly care about) a questioning glance from out of the shadow of his hood, clearly ready to depart. A rare show of patience.

[Asyla]

"Prey."

'Aldrin' nodded, smirking. As long as the Rage demon was aware of the blood it could shed, Sheberadze would be pleased. Well, and as long as it could contain itself, but so far it did a pretty good job at that.
"Yes, dear, prey," she confirmed, having little varied descriptions of the people in the world out there. Despite feeding on different emotions and going about getting them in different ways, both demons were still just as hungry as the other.

"As you say. I can do this. You will find me?"

The body of Aldrin shifted, and he rolled his head back and gave an elongated sniffing sound. His eyes flickered for a moment, and then he returned to a normal stance, a smirk on his face.
"Ah, I will," Sheberadze said, leaning forward. The Desire Demon had taken in the 'smell' of the rage demon. It shouldn't be too hard to track down in the Fade, now.
"Just don't stray too far from Kirkwall. I want you to be there on time, after all, if I need you. Good hunting."

With that, the demon considered its exchange with the more simple construct over. Rage demons were useful, but obviously not too interested in scheming as she was. He'd put the strength of that big body of his to good use, though. Aldrin wasn't quite as big, unfortunately. But, well, maybe Sheberadze could change that over time.

As Aldrin looked away from Ailmaer and turned his attention to his beer, Sheberadze wondered what her host's soul was up to. Perhaps he was still having fun with his sisters?

'Wake-y, wake-y, Aldrin,' Sheberadze purred mentally, waking her host up, 'I need you to take over and get yourself a girl into a room. I got a little surprise for you. Shouldn't be too hard - after all we're in a tavern.'

[Glein]

Feeling a tugging sensation begin to pull on him from within the dream, he looked up from the nondescript though lustful elf he was enjoying, to tell that pulling sensation where it could stick it, when the voice broke in.

'Wake-y, wake-y, Aldrin, I need you to take over and get yourself a girl into a room. I got a little surprise for you. Shouldn't be too hard - after all we're in a tavern.'

Aldrin then felt himself break from the dream world, and slowly settle into his body. Mentally, he quirked an eyebrow. What did she have planned for him? But she did have a point, as it was a tavern. There was sure to be several girls more then willing to plenty of girls willing to lay with a man like himself.

As the young serving wench came up to refill the pint of mead he had, he reached over to her, and pulled her close. She didn't resist much, if anything, seemed she had been waiting for someone to try this. "How much for a room?" He asked her, watching the expression on her face. "About 5 coppers ser" She told him, and he nodded.

'Care to explain what you have planned?' He asked Melfina, as he stood up, walked to the bar, put the coins down, and took the girl with him to one of the rooms.

[Warden]

The door to the Hanged Man flew open, the thud of a boot against the center of the frame being the first thing heard. Through the door was a line of fully armored men dressed in both Red Steel and Veridium plates. They all made a semi-circle along the back of the tavern, moving tables and stools to accommodate them.

Two men in particular parted from the group and approached the bar, the oldest of the two nearly yelling at the bartender and the men behind him.

"Drinks on me!"

The men cheered and laughed together, with complete disregard for others.

The younger of the two men had stopped his companion. "Come on, Meeran. It's your second day back. Allow me."

Smiles formed on both of their faces as the younger man threw his hand in the air, signaling the bartender for 11 drinks. Meeran threw his arm across the young man's shoulder, laughing a bit before expressing his gratefulness. "You've... man... you've made quite a name for the Efrain family."

"Family? I've yet to find a woman worthy of my efforts, Meeran. I guess I could always snatch a bed-warmer from The Blooming Rose, eh?"

They both laughed, Meeran's sudden eruption coming to a shorter halt. "Listen... I know I walked away years ago, but I'm asking for your--"

Drinks had already been given to the men and their sudden cheers distracted Rafael. He ushered Meeran to the table with his men and placed a drink in the old man's hand. Grabbing a mug with his own, Rafael began a speech.

"For years, I have ensured the success of this organization. We have... evolved from simple mercenaries to men of moral honor and code. There is little we are incapable of doing, yet our accomplishments would seek to prove that statement wrong..." The men grunted with a few 'yeah's and 'hey's. "But my efforts have not been efficient through my own talent. I owe my thanks to you men here, and my mentor, Meeran, for the outstanding service given to the Red Iron Irregulars!"

The men cheered and continued their somewhat rowdy behavior.

"I, uh--...", Meeran began to speak. "I honestly don't know what to say. Everything the company is now... is not by my hand, Sandalio. It is you! You men here, that fight everyday so people like me can continue living their boring, uneventful lives in peace and harmony." The men were quite focused and taken by the status Meeran had established for himself. "I don't deserve such consideration. I'm a murderer. I have been everything but decent. Which is why I will take my leave from Kirkwall in the morning."

The men, including Rafael, had become concerned. "What? Meeran, you cannot be--"

"Let's not ruin this day with my pathetic escape, lad! Let's celebrate what we've accomplished as Irregulars!"

The men downed their tankards and called for a wench to refill them. Rafael hadn't moved his own, his eyes focused on the man before him. Meeran bottomed his tankard and placed it on the tray as the wench came by. He didn't make another glance at Rafael, possibly afraid of the words that might come from his mouth. After all, Rafael was grateful for Meeran's teachings and looked up to him like an uncle... how could one just let his uncle depart when he still has people that need him? Family that supports him? A city that hasn't rejected him?

This was the rundown of Rafael's thoughts.

[Asyla]

Aldrin woke up again. Good for him. He'd like what she had in store for him. The demon watched as the mercenary drew the wench that approached closer.
Yes, she'd work nicely. She was young, and if she worked as a server and part-time prostitute in the Hanged Man, probably quite weak-willed as well.

Sheberadze watched with glee as Aldrin got themselves a room, and a girl. However, he seemed to take it more of an obligation than a gift, the fool.
'Loosen up, boy. Tell me what you like about your new toy.'

'Care to explain what you have planned?'

Mortals. Always so damn curious. But Sheberadze didn't mind. Even curiousity had a desire in them, even if it wasn't as strong as the desire of love and pleasures.
'Of course, dear,' Malfina replied, making her preparations already.
'Lock the room behind us once we're in. She probably won't mind. Keep the key in it so you don't scare her either. Then, ravish her or something. Get her into it. But when she's vulnerable, I need you to hold her in place and loo into your eyes. Your other hand needs to carve a rune into her flank. I'll guide your hand, don't worry. Make sure to keep eye contact. Force her if necessary. You'll know when it's over.'

[Glein]

That was one thing he enjoyed about Malfina, she could get so flustered so easily. Sometimes anyways. 'She is healthy indeed, young and firm in the right places, if a bit ambitious, though those ambitions are likely to be her downfall tonight, I should think.' He told her, doing a full look over of the wench. It was obvious the young girl didn't have generously sized breasts, the bodice she wore was clearly too small for them, causing the cleavage between the two grapefruit sized mounds of flesh to appear deeper then it likely was. Her ass was barely visible under the all too short skirt, but the legs on her were well toned and seemed to just keep climbing up her body. But the eagerness with which she went with Aldrin, meant she saw this not as a job, or another way to make a few extra coins, but as a stepping stone to something greater then the Hanging Man.

As they climbed the stairs to the second floor, looking for an unoccupied room, the sounds of both sleep, and lust-filled acts coming from several of them. The smell of the lust was enough to make even Aldrin, whom prior to his merger with Malfina would have ignored all together, want to just absorb the sensation. 'Hmmmm, seems your influence upon me is growing stronger. I'm starting to pick up your own hunger for desires and the fulfillment of that hunger.' Aldrin stated, smiling gently for the girl next to him, as he finally found an empty room.

Stepping in, he let her enter the room fully, before stepping in himself, closing the door behind him. Locking it, and keeping the key in the hole, he smiled a little less gently, and a bit more hungrily. Crossing the 4 steps between them, he looked down on the wench. "Take your clothes off." He said, while starting to work on the straps to his armor himself. She started a bit, not expecting the, sense of power behind Aldrin's voice, but she complied. The man was paying, and if that power in his voice had any truth behind it, well, he'd be the perfect person to use in her own climb to power.

He saw her undressing, first with the removal of her bodice, which released her breasts from their prison, and he nodded in an appreciative manner. She was actually slightly larger then he had assumed with the bodice on, both twice the size of a grapefruit. Her gown underneath then pooled around her feet, and Aldrin nodded firmly. She was indeed a perfect specimen of a young human woman, her figure reminding him strongly of an hourglass. By this time, he'd already removed his armor, and watched her seem nervous. "What's the matter, you didn't act like a virgin downstairs." He said, getting a bit of a scowl from the wench, who took a step forward, causing her lustful body to move in ways that were appealing, and screaming, of her own lack of morals about sex.

"Ser, I can assure you, I am most talented." She stated, grabbing his manhood, and pausing as she felt it through his breeches. She'd handled men both large and small, but not one as large as Aldrin. What she didn't know, was that was one part of him Malfina changed, 'improved', as she phrased it.

Aldrin smirked, and then lifted her, and placed her upon the bed, before forcing himself upon her. He would get her so driven by lust and desire, she would not know anything but those for now.

-20 minutes later-

The wench was so enraptured, so lost in her desires, that she couldn't have looked around from Aldrin if she wanted to, He knew exactly had to push her to the limit and hold her there. 'She is ready for you Malfina. Do what you planned.' He informed, holding the wench's gaze into his eyes, merely by holding her chin to face him.

[Asyla]

Sheberadze was eager to hear what, and how, her host would describe this female as. It showed her indirectly, but clearly, how Aldrin's personality was changing. More and more of his inhibitions fell away as the demonic possession poisoned his mind and sapping his humanity.

'She is healthy indeed, young and firm in the right places, if a bit ambitious, though those ambitions are likely to be her downfall tonight, I should think.'

'Downfall is such a negative word,' Sheberadze replied, letting his eyes linger on her preferable features a little longer. The bad thing about demonic possession was that the more the host lost of his humanity, the less desire Sheberadze could feed off. Not because the host offered less, but rather because his soul began to leech off desire as well.
In lament's terms, Sheberadze was a big tapeworm. And she had laid an egg in her host, who was now growing. And feeding off the rest of his soul. And when there was nothing left, Sheberadze would have an empty body to call her own. Well, and another's.
The demon followed Aldrin's thought process. So this woman was ambitious? Good. Very good.

'Hmmmm, seems your influence upon me is growing stronger. I'm starting to pick up your own hunger for desires and the fulfillment of that hunger.'

Well, that wasn't indirect. It was a direct decleration. If Aldrin was already at the point of noticing it himself, and would actually view it as a good thing rather than as a worrying thing, it wouldn't be long until the 'human' Aldrin was completely gone. But when he was, Sheberadze's number one income of nutrition would be brought to a minimum. And if Aldrin's soul did become a fellow demon, she might be forced to share the shell with him. But that depended on whether Aldrin embraced or rejected the hunger Sheberadze's presence was giving her.

Sheberadze wondered if she had been a human's soul once, too, or if she had merely been born by a combination of them. If so, it confirmed her theory that such freshling demons would lose memory and caring for the events of the physical world. It would be interesting to watch Aldrin in the future. Even now, Sheberadze was constantly smiling in her part of Aldrin's soul.

Now, however, they were already undressing. Aldrin had locked the door, good, and the wench didn't fret yet either. Sure she seemed a bit scared or something when Aldrin had brought out that commanding tone, but she still seemed to be open to Aldrin's presence.
'My, what a commanding tone. Is that just me or have you always been that dominant?' Malfina asked, as Aldrin threw the wench onto the bed.

The two took their time, but Sheberadze enjoyed it. It was like tasting a wonderful wine. A wine that was vital to her survival. And now Aldrin had her there. Her body was completely subdued by her own hormones. Sheberadze liked hormones. They made her victims do things that they would never do if they were completely in their normal state of mind.

And as Aldrin held her chin in place, she knew her moment had come.

'She is ready for you Malfina. Do what you planned.'

'Hold her in place,' Sheberadze commanded as she activated all her powers to take over Aldrin's free hand. 'Keep her from screaming for help.'

Aldrin's free hand twitched, its skin colour drastically blushing, and becoming purple-like as veins protruded against its skin prison, and sharp claws forced their way out of Aldrin's fingertips, replacing the dull finger nails there. Demonic blood dropped out of the pierced skin as the hand positioned itself over the wench's right thigh, then sunk down and began to carve symbols into her flank. Her blood came out, mixing itself with the corrupted blood of Aldrin, but all the while kept on finishing the demonic runes and markings. Sheberadze didn't need eyes for this, instinct and knowledge guided her, or Aldrin's, hand.

The woman cried out, trying to look down as to what was happening with her right leg, but Aldrin kept her head in place. The desiring look in her eyes was replaced by one of concern and fear as she looked up into Aldrin's. Then, the look once again was replaced, and this time by an enraptured, although painful one.

The girl's body went stiff, her heart racing as fast as it could without exploding, emotions of pain and horror appearing on her face every now and then.
Sheberadze had dragged the poor woman's soul into the Fade with a blood ritual. It was a shame that Aldrin didn't have a pint of magic within him, or this would have been a lot easier.

After a few minutes of this unholy ritual, Aldrin's hand came under his control again. The woman's side was covered in bloodied, dark markings that started from her knee up to her pelvic bone.

The woman lay still for a moment, then she screeched and pushed Aldrin off of her, jumping off the bed naked. She ran towards the door, and placed her hand on it. But Aldrin had locked it. The wench quickly reached for the key, but a strange spasm took a hold of her. She accidentally threw the key out of its lock, then fell down on the ground where she curled up. Something seemed to move beneath her skin as she shifted and twitched all the time while giving painful moans every now and then.

It was then that Sheberadze abandoned the woman's soul, and instead took a hold of Aldrin. With a gleeful smile, the demon sent Aldrin's soul into a new, smaller, female host. It would be entertaining to watch, surely...

[Glein]

Aldrin stared intently into the woman's eyes as his hand did it's bloody work. However, part of her fear during the the ritual, was when Aldrin's eyes took on a more purple hue, the irises barely standing out against the dark purple, and with the pupils turning to slits during the entire ritual.

And once it was over, Aldrin watched her attempt to flee, and sat up on the bed, calm and detracted. In fact, he even glanced at the hand Sheberadze has used, and saw the shape it had taken. The simple fact it didn't hurt, despite the fact it should, was frightening at best, but unsurprising at worst. 'Interesting control Malfina, I-' Aldrin was starting to tell her when the wench collapsed to the ground, and he suddenly felt himself viewing the world from two pairs of eyes, one looking down at the girl, the other staring blankly towards the bed, and slowly, the view upon the bed dominated his mind, until he, She, was sure it was the reality. And as his soul settled into the new body, the pain of his, her, leg reached his mind.

Hissing heavily, he, she took this moment to look at the damage. However, it was so covered in blood, he, she had to wipe it away to see, which only aggravated the wounds more. "By all that is divine!" Aldrin, no, no her name was Iniassa, growled out. While she could have called out for the Maker, her own distrust in the deity would have made it a hallow curse. "Did you have to cut so deep?" She said, dragging herself to a standing position, and watching the smug expression on her original face simply grow more so. It was odd though, he, she normally felt Malfina's presence in his mind, like an annoying tick that wouldn't go away.

Attempting to adjust to this body was, difficult, with the ritual carved into the right leg, and the entirely different body proportions, meant Iniassa was having trouble walking forward without throwing out her arms to catch herself. "Since I'm looking at myself, am I right to assume you've decided to cast me aside? Though, I would have expected you to have taken this body rather then mine. Much more likely to get what you want with this one, I would think."" Iniassa said, pain flowing into each word with each tiny step.

By the time she reached the bed, she was exhausted simply from the pain, so she just slumped onto the bed, feeling the pain relieve itself as weight was removed from the cut flank.

[Asyla]

Sheberadze now had Aldrin's body all for herself, and she... well, he watched with smugness as the creature on the ground stirred. The original owner was gone, at least for now.
He raised his transformed hand, and watched it tense up as the corrupted shape slowly transformed back into a normal hand. Some scars remained, but they would disappear soon. For now, Sheberadze felt a bit exhausted. Thankfully, however, the past twenty minutes had fed Sheberadze for now, and she'd live without it a little longer.

"By all that is divine!"

"Is there?" 'Aldrin' asked, fishing his pants off the ground and, somewhat awkwardly, putting them on. He then took the wench's clothes and placed them on the bed. Sitting back down, Aldrin observed how the wench stood, and somewhat awkwardly moved. Of course, since 'Aldrin' was in a new body. He seemed to take it rather well, though.

"Did you have to cut so deep?"

Aldrin shrugged, watching as the woman slowly limped over to the bed. Her leg was bleeding rather profusely, but she'd live.
"I did. It wouldn't have worked, otherwise."

"Since I'm looking at myself, am I right to assume you've decided to cast me aside? Though, I would have expected you to have taken this body rather then mine. Much more likely to get what you want with this one, I would think.""

Aldrin tilted his head, then shook it.
"My dear, I haven't cast you aside. This here is your body. I just wanted to show you what it was like to move like a woman. You may have use for that knowledge yet. You are right - that body is something we could use. Apostates may come here, and they won't go for somebody as yourse--- or myself, currently."

Slowly standing up, Aldrin took the woman's clothes with him and walked around the bed, where he knelt down to regard her runes.
"These symbols bind this wench to me. However, as long as she is, her soul is trapped in the Fade, and these symbols remain. If they are removed by a healing spell or a templar, she will be able to return. Till then, I wanted to hear your input on our current girl here. Do you feel exposed with your new..." he paused to chuckle, "... womanhood? And when do you feel adressed? When I say 'Aldrin'? Or rather 'Iniassa'? Would you rather return into your own body?"

[Glein]

Iniassa listened calmly to Shederadze's explanations, accepting the clothes when handed to her. Snorting somewhat, she waited as 'Aldrin' walked around, and examined the runes.

"Damned shame. I think the runes would mar the pristine image we had. Unless your able to alter this body as you did mine?" Iniassa said. When asked about her womanhood, she looked down, and shrugged. "I feel about as exposed as a new born babe, but it's not untasteful. As for responding... Iniassa grabs my attention now more then Aldrin does." She stated. Right now, she began to examine her body in detail, running her hands across the various bits.

While it was still awkward to be seeing her real body kneeling next to her, examining the runes, the sensations of this one was nice. Though the breasts were the strangest part, mostly because of their weight on her chest, the sensitivity of them was electrifying. Her body was lithe, elegant, and surprisingly strong. And then there was of course, the fact she now bore a womanhood, which, while somewhat painful to the touch, mostly her doing while she inhabited her body during the 20 minutes of pure lust driven desire, the shivers sent up and down her spine more then made up for it.

"Seems the original owner of this body enjoyed her lusts more then most women I'd met in my life so far. Iniassa stated, wincing as she shifted on the bed slightly, having put down the clothes earlier, now she reached for them, and thought on how they were put on. The one that would cause the most pain would be the undergarments that the wench had been wearing when she entered. The ones that he hadn't seen under her clothes until they were off, despite the shortness of her gown.

[Asyla]

"Damned shame. I think the runes would mar the pristine image we had. Unless your able to alter this body as you did mine?"

Vanity... an emotion beyond Sheberadze's tastes. A Pride Demon would have a feast right here. But that wasn't the point. Aldrin didn't seem too bothered with the fact that he was in a woman's body. No, he was concerned with his slightly ruined appearance.
The Desire Demon didn't know what that meant. Was Aldrin... attracting a Pride Demon? Even she didn't want to mess with one fo those. What if his soul became one of them? She'd feel threatened, overpowered even.

But, in the end, her own desire for, well, desire won.
"You're still a beautiful girl, Iniassa," 'Aldrin' said smugly, raising a hand and stroking her over jawline and chin, "But I won't be able to remove the markings. You'll just have to hide them under that skirt of your's. If you choose to remain in that body of your's, that is. I could heal them a bit, but, alas, neither of us is a mage. I can shapeshift the body I am in, a bit, but currently, you are in her body."

Of course, if Aldrin was a demon himself, he'd be able to heal the wounds up faster himself. But Sheberadze didn't think he was at that point yet.
'Aldrin' looked down at the woman's nude frame, smiling briefly as he asked her about whether or not Iniassa felt 'exposed'.

"I feel about as exposed as a new born babe, but it's not untasteful. As for responding... Iniassa grabs my attention now more then Aldrin does."

'Aldrin' chuckled darkly, nodding. Yes, he was becoming detached from his humanity, then. He was no longer bound to the body and identity of Aldrin Zeromus. Instead, his corrupted soul eagerly settled into new forms. The ideal requirement for a demonic entity. It was like... watching a son grow up. Only that Sheberadze never had as on. Heh.

"Seems the original owner of this body enjoyed her lusts more then most women I'd met in my life so far.

"Hmm," 'Aldrin' muttered, "Perhaps you can already smell lust and desire yourself. You're a good student, Iniassa. But you haven't answered my question yet."

'Aldrin' slowly stood up with a sigh, before realising she had trouble putting on her clothes.
"Stop," he commanded in a dominant tone, "Let your body's instincts flow through to you. Now, how do you put these clothes on like a woman would?"

[Glein]

Iniassa 'hmmmed' as 'Aldrin' stroked her jawline and chin. And finally just settled on her ass.

Listening to Sheberadze talk, Iniassa still hadn't decided wither she wanted to return to being Aldrin, or to remain as Iniassa. And it was difficult. Very difficult for her to decide. While on the one hand, this would basically give her a body of her own from Malfina, But this meant she would be Iniassa for the foreseeable future. While it wasn't her real body, she felt almost as herself as Iniassa as she had as Aldrin.

This would also give her a chance to fully experience what it was a woman experienced. It would, thusly, give her advantages when handling the desires and lusts of a woman. But to return to her true body, she'd know all there was about it, what it was capable of, but also it's limitations.

She sat there, thinking on the matter. But the scents and pull of lust and desire was growing stronger, So much so that she was tempted to go seek it out now.

"A deal then? I remain in this body for a week, experience what I can through it, then ask me again. Because as you already said... I am smelling lust, and desires. And I want to taste it, savor it."" Iniassa said, grabbing Aldrin. "We can start by showing me what a woman's lust feels like." She stated, pulling him close.

"The clothes can wait until later, I think. I want, no... desire to sate this hunger building in me." She said, looking Sheberadze in the eye, Iniassa's flashing to a purple sheen, before resuming the emerald green Iniassa had been born with.

[Asyla]

A sound of pleasure escaped the wench's lips, oddly enough, when he touched her jawline. It seemed that Aldrin was settling into the new identity all too easily. The more Sheberadze thought about it, the more he liked that. Just odd how the 'new' Iniassa was more eager to give in to her desires than the old one. It must have been the unexperienced nature of her new body.

Aldrin... Iniassa seemed to sincerely think about what Sheberadze had asked her. The larger man tilted his head, smirking darkly as he seemed to wonder what was in her mind - even though he knew. A part of him was still inside Aldrin's soul. It would forever be there, until it would have corrupted Aldrin completely.

This would also give her a chance to fully experience what it was a woman experienced. It would, thusly, give her advantages when handling the desires and lusts of a woman. But to return to her true body, she'd know all there was about it, what it was capable of, but also it's limitations.

"A deal then? I remain in this body for a week, experience what I can through it, then ask me again. Because as you already said... I am smelling lust, and desires. And I want to taste it, savor it.""

"Hmn," 'Aldrin' mumbled, regarding Iniassa with a smirk. Competition, in a way. Like two leeches sucking off one rapidly disappearing food source. Not that their food source got smaller, no, their appetite just grew larger.

"We can start by showing me what a woman's lust feels like."

The mercenary's brow was perked as he was drawn closer by the naked woman, who had a certain lust in her eyes. Perhaps the body was still... 'warm' and the new inhabitant of that body was under the influence of that. Yet, Sheberadze didn't mind.
This human the demon had seduced seemed so eager to give up his... or her humanity. But even then Sheberadze was surprised as she saw a demonic glimmer light up in Iniassa's eyes.

"The clothes can wait until later, I think. I want, no... desire to sate this hunger building in me."

"You do, do you?" Sheberadze asked, grabbing her roughly by the arms, before pushing her down onto the bed.
"You shouldn't be so eager. But you are. You are a powerful being in woman's flesh. I must warn you, though. The more you taste this desire, the more your hunger will grow. But, the satisfaction you will gain from it will increase, too. You have chosen, though. There is no way back now. But you will enjoy it."

Sheberadze was a rough lover if given the chance, and he was more than eager to show that to the 'reincarnated' woman. As he entered her, it would seem as if this would be a long night. But Sheberadze would enjoy tearing the last remnants of 'Aldrin's' humanity away until nothing was left but Sheberadze. And, maybe, somebody else who would be born from the sins of man.