Fable - Ask When Fates Align

A roleplay which may be open to join but you must ask the creator first
Garrod glared at... whatever it was that stood before them. As loathe as he was to ever admit it, Rysorian had the right idea. this... thing. It oozed with threat. A power that was at once familiar, yet all too alien to Garrod, and he could feel his arm ache, the blood there in seeming to pulse with excitement.

Oh, how delightful. The demon within the jewel whispered in the black of Garrod's thoughts. To think we would find another. In this sad little troupe you find yourself a part of, oh bearer mine. A dark and smokey cackle billowed through the swordsman's skull.

The being spoke. In a voice that was both Cassandra's and not. Echoed by something else. It even referred to itself as something else.

Do I not do the same? The demon in the jewel jabbed.
We are not the same, you and I, oh bearer mine. You are but my conduit. A device through which I spread my reach into the corporeal.

A growl rumbled in Garrod's throat, his hands wrapped firmly about the hilt of his sword. Its length angled forward, guard low, ready to shift into attack at moment's notice. "And Cassandra?" he asked out to entity.

Rysorian Kadje Empyrean Cassandra Galanis
 
Rysorian looked sharply at Raea, about to answer that his sense of smell was muddled. He could try, but the smell of blood and filth was so strong he could barely tolerate it himself. But he had no chance for this idle talk as a thing that was Cassandra, and so very not her, appeared before them. The smell grew in intensity, a waft of power and evil, and Rysorian felt, for a very brief moment, sick.

He’d smelt such things before, and the memories they brought were never pleasant.

His hands clenched into fists, tight around the knife he gripped. The leather wrapped around the haft dug hard into his skin. People were screaming in fright around him, there was a fire blazing nearby, feet thudded against the uneven ground, there was blood and terror in the air, there was flickering shadow and sour sights…

He never could escape these things, could he?

He turned his eyes to the entity Garrod spoke to. He doubted much of a clear answer would be received, and to be honest, Rysorian didn’t much care. The thirst for blood ran strongly now in his veins as his teeth clenched against the urge to lunge and slash apart the thing that stood so very, very close.

A growl rose in his throat, rumbling past his lips. Human in source; animal in nature. Everything around him vanished into a backdrop of thick silence and darkness as the overwhelming need to vanquish the threat washed over him.

If something was not done soon, that desire would conquer all else.