The Sands of Time

[seraph]

[ Open to Dei Only ]

Heat. Perhaps the only thing that was going through the Gambler's mind at the moment. This world was far too hot for his liking. Use to the cool and somewhat cold urban areas, his physique was not adapted to such harsh conditions. Being so far out from civilization wasn't exactly a plus either, however he had deemed it necessary. Not having much to do, lacking an Organization to belong to, he found himself wandering worlds in search of said members. At first he refrained from doing such a thing, simply because his logic hadn't decided whether to engage him in a second round with that group.

Unfortunately the first time had proved a little...troublesome to say the least. A few hours ago he stumbled upon a book of ancient mysteries of sorts in the Palace library. Of course he wasn't supposed to be loitering around there but there was no wall of soldier that could contain the corridors of darkness Luxord was capable of creating. Reading was something he did when ever there was absolutely no chance of a game or two. Most of the townsfolk had no idea what cards were never mind playing a round of blackjack with him. How he ended up in this backwater world was beyond him yet still he persisted.

Upon reading a few pages in, the Gambler stumbled upon an old legend concerning a crimson tower in the former town of Azad, swallowed by a large sand dragon. Or so the legend went. Being of the intellectual sort he soon pieced together that it was a metaphor for a sandstorm. These Sands of Time in which he read about, were alleged to give the user the infinite control over time itself. Naturally his element within the Organization was time, and he could control it quite well but still he lacked the abilities to rewind the hands to his greatest game to date. Of course it was the game in which he bet his existence, if Nobodies truly existed, and lost rather gracefully one might add.

With a devious smirk he let out a grunt of amusement as an opaque puddle of black water formed at his feet. Slowly it climbed crawling up the feet and legs of the Gambler, clinging to him for dear life. Soon the shape flowed outwards to a perfect oval shape triggering darkness to resonate from its figure. Soon thereafter Luxord was whisked off to another place by his own doing leaving the book he was reading previous open upon the fashioned desk. Now atop the ramparts of the south gate, he over looked the vast desert in front of him, arms folded with what appeared to be a smile on his face.

Letting his arms fall casually to his side, he could not help but notice an odd sensation on his back. Was he being watched? No resident world buffoon could have noticed his presence, he was far too crafty for such an embarrassing notion to occur. Before long he had shrugged the feeling off with a deepening of that devious smile. "A desert, wide and vast, and the Sand of Time, a relic from a forgotten age. Perhaps they could light the path that needs to be trodden to change ones fate" he monologued to himself. Afterwards he gave out a hollow laugh as his eyes met the ruins of the forbidden city. Those blue eyes sparkled at the sight with a satisfied look appearing on his face. Naturally this was just habit from his former life and he couldn't feel satisfaction, or any other kind of emotion for that matter. "And so the game begins..." he murmured to himself admiring the view atop the city walls a moment longer.

[Beaver Dude]

There is a fine art to haggling. It requires a certain amount of patience, an eye for value, a common-enough language and a time-honored viciousness completely lacking in any etiquette, courtesy and manners. It is the chosen ground for verbal sparring: there is little to lose and much to gain for being particularly obnoxious and in most instances there is nothing to lose at all.

Every now and then, however, a vendor will have no idea what exactly it is he is selling...

v.v.v.v.v

"It is worth at least fifteen hundred munny, honored sir."

Personally, Xaldin hated haggling. It was like a bloodless fight: a pointless mockery of the real thing. Ostensibly a product of skill, it was really just a mere a placeholder of what would have happened once upon a time in the absence of law. It substituted words for blades, raised voices for wounds, threats for death, smiles for diplomacy.

Growl. "It is merely a trinket. Fifty."

However, for various unmentionable reasons, the Organization no longer allowed Xaldin to carry in excess of what could be referred to as pocket change. He was thus, in situations where he found an object of potential value, forced to stoop and engage in verbal sparring. He was sure he was acquitting himself at least decently: the vendor had started something close to twenty grand. He had rapidly diminshed that value after Xaldin had walked away.

"Oh great Sultan! He wounds me! My family needs to eat! fourteen hundred."

It had taken all of Xaldin's not inconsiderable self-control to not simply blow the stall down and take by force what he wanted. That, however, would be both foolish and unnecessary. Not to mention that there were certain members of the Organization that were starting to doubt the inherent wisdom of being out and about at all. They had been defeated by a boy and a key after all. Surely they should recuperate first. No, none would want him to make a mess in Agrabah, annoying as that was.

"My... family needs to eat too. One hundred. Not a munny more."

The object in question was a necklace. Normally it would not have bothered Xaldin overly much. It was poorly made and the gems - if they were gems - were not even cut, making them appear like shiny rocks instead of glittering jewelry. Xaldin cared not one whit about them. The chain however...

"Honored sir drives a hard bargain indeed! Thirteen hundred and seventy-five."

The chain, made of some fine, silk-like material practically hummed with repressed power. An artifact of wind if he'd ever seen one. Most likely made from the hair of some greater being of Wind. It was not unlikely, especially in a harsh a vista as this one where the wind was the greatest and most chaotic elemental that visited the lands. Even the sun, powerful as it was, could not claim to be less consistent.

"One hundred and fifty."

This was probably going to take a while.

v.v.v.v.v

Remarkably poorer, but with the artifact in hand, Xaldin rubbed the links between fingers like a monk with a rosary. He hummed contentedly before pocketing the trinket. It wouldn't give up its secrets right away, of course, there was always a dance that needed to be done before all could be said and done, a certain combination of seduction and passion that needed to flow before it'd bother to help him.

Still. All in all a good day's-

Xaldin stilled. Sniffed the air. It was faint but there - the scent of Darkness. Not an unfamiliar one, but one he had not detected for ages. Tea and gold. Such a strange mix. There was only one who it could possibly belong to. Opening a corridor he stepped in and reached.

v.v.v.v.v

"I thought it might be you, Ten."

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[seraph]

If he had a heart, this is where he would cower in fright. Naturally he was a little confused at best, but never surprised. Luxord was a puppeteer of fate, and could not be surprised...except when a boy and a key are involved. To his left he felt the darkness pulsate, as if calling to him. Nobodies had a sixth sense about these things. "Must you always address in numbers?" he replied in what should have been an annoyed tone, however lacking a heart only brought forth an empty vessel of words. "He gave us new names for a reason no? he continued with a sinister tone about his words. Folding his arms, his gaze scanned the desert once again as if demanding it reveal its secret.

It did seem a little pointless as he had already located the most prominent estimation of where the fallen city of Azad lay but still, something else was bothering him. He couldn't quite place it but his mind told him something was stirring down there, beneath the shifting sands. For the moment however he would have to disregard those 'feelings' if thats what they were and return to engage his host fully. Simply being callous with him was not the way he did things. Being of upper class descent it was too rude of him, against his moral code of conduct, when it applied of course.

"Truth be told, I had a...feeling, one of us was lingering in the shadows" he returned for a second round of conversation. "Then the next question begs to be asked, what brings you to this renegade of a city?" Luxord finished with a more devious smirk spread on his face. Naturally the most obvious question was yet to be asked, but these two comrades were a bit too clever for such foolish talks. The Gambler knew how he had returned from the dead, if thats what they really were. Therefore he only assumed that Xaldin had returned in an identical if not similar manner. So the question was a little less obvious after all.

[Beaver Dude]

"Scouting." Xaldin replied simply when he really meant passing the time.

There would be a battle here, soon enough. He would not be allowed to participate. Such a situation was infuriating. No doubt it was a test. To see how much of a loose cannon he had become since his... resurrection. The lancer himself acknowledged that he had changed since his 'death,' but there were limits to the extent people could doubt him. He would stand by the sidelines. But he expected to be able to participate fully in the next battle.

If not...

Well. He'd blow down that house when he got to it.

"There is little meaning to names or numbers." The lancer said quietly, joining the gambler on the upper ramparts. "We received both. Possibly without purpose or reason."

The sun shone strongly, starting a slow broil inside his Organization cloak. Of the places that the cloak was good for, the desert was not one of them. The bazaar had been slightly more bearable, with most vendors spreading themselves beneath tarps or tents of some sort. But out here, exposed to the elements, Xaldin began to feel the heat. Sweat beaded at his neck and back.

"I might ask the same of you, Luxord." Xaldin continued, apparently conceding the point after arguing against it. "You've been away for a long time." It seemed to have become something of an unspoken rule to not speak of death, whatever form it had taken.

"Why are you here?"

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[seraph]

There is little meaning to names or number

The Gambler could only smirk in delight, if that was possible. "Touche" was all he replied for now. Perhaps he didn't appear as rash as Luxord once believed. A wakeup call perhaps? He could only surmise that their 'deaths' would have been an individual experience for all of them but either way it mattered not. Luxord was here to play a game with fate after all, hence his very presence here. Turning away from his comrade for a short while, his eyes fixed on something glittering in the far horizon. It gave that little subtlety that it wanted to be touched, in which the Gambler would indulge when the right time came. Now he was certain that the area to the southwest was indeed the location of the fallen city.

Despite not particularly wanting to answer the question Xaldin put forward next, he felt it necessary to reply. Less complications that way. At least for now. "Scouting..." came a harsh and cold reply, though it was not intended. He loved to play off the words of others, feeding his ego adding even more allure to his demeanor. However now was not the time to show off. "My apologies. I jest. Recently I discovered an article containing information on a certain relic that could be...useful, if put to good use" he informed his companion. Turning completely on his heels, he walked a few paces to the other edge of the ramparts, studying the pathetic individuals that went about their lives below.

A devious smirk appeared on his face once again, he was doing this more and more with each passing day. "The power to control time...the possibilities are endless" he began trying to add some sort of dispense to his tone although a lacking of a certain component made this rather difficult to perceive. "These people, they have no idea which they sit upon...and the storm that is coming shall uproot them revealing their idiocy" Luxord calmly stated. With a quiet hollow laugh to himself he turned facing Xaldin once more. "Soon the board shall be swept clean for this world, but before that I wish to acquire this relic of power. With such opportunity we could re-write our fates...and the fate of the Organization. Do you not agree? he asked in an inquisitive manner taking a few steps toward the Lancer but not invading his personal space at the time.

[Beaver Dude]

Xaldin had always been leery of the newer members. For all but one it was a dislike rooted in the rather abstract and perhaps irrational belief that those he had known before the shift from Somebody to Nobody were more trustworthy. A common background gave them common concerns, memories, relations. Supposedly, wihtout a Heart, it was impossible to create new rapports with others, and for all they pretended to act as a group there was a clear division between those who were neophytes and those who were the elders. Such had been the way of the Organization.

However, for one of the members, Xaldin had been leery because the nature of his power had limitless applications.

The power over Time itself.

Time was a lot like Nothing. Very few could grasp its nature, explore its intricacies or understand its mechanisms. Xemnas would have been able to, no doubt. His Somebody had been a burgeoning genius and his Nobody was one as well, albeit more prone to speeches without end and less prone to discovering the limits of his capabilities. Ten had been, for all that it was so terribly unlikely, the only other in the Organization capable of playing with time and it was likely that his control surpassed the Superior's mere dabblings.

Thus Xaldin hesitated. He didn't know how exactly Luxord had lost - only that he had. The keyblade, it appeared, trascended time itself. He should...

As if guessing at his thoughts, the wind picked up, chuckling as it blew dunes over and reshaped the landscape. So what? it asked slyly. Everything is transient. So what? Do you really care?

No. No he didn't.

"I have time to kill." He said instead, words tumbling carelessly from his mouth as Luxord closed in. "Lead on."

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[seraph]

An apparent disapproving look appeared on his face. Shaking his head to the floor, he just couldn't 'feel' Xaldin's interest in what he was saying. This was they're chance, to right everything that had been wronged to them, yet he didn't seem to care. Then again neither of them could care, they were incapable of doing so. "Conversation is a forte absent from you..." he retorted after getting next to nothing from his comrade in arms. Walking away from him he decided to let it go for now. After all it was obvious the Lancer didn't trust him, he was a neophyte after all.

"The relic in question is named the 'Sands of Time'. Apparently some sort of hour glass" he began looking into the distance once again. That strange feeling was coming over him again and the wind had picked up in an eerie manner. However his companion seemed to be relishing in this little breeze. Luxord too thought it was nice on his skin, the heat here was simply unbearable. Especially in those cloaks that the pair of them wore. Both would have been rather sweaty underneath all that fiber. "Supposedly, it resides in a crimson tower hidden in a city swallowed by a sand dragon" he finished letting out a little snigger to himself. The legend itself sounded too ridiculous to be valid yet there was always chance. Something Luxord had grown quite accustomed to.

"Surely he must become interested if there is a dragon involved he mused in his thoughts. Turning back towards him now he allowed his lips to curl into a arrogant smile. Waving his right hand in the direction of the fallen city, he quickly lowered it after a second or two. If #3 was paying attention then he would have noticed this movement. If not, oh well. "With it, I plan to bend time to my will and...save our other unfortunate comrades" he finished. This was him actually speaking the truth for once. Xaldin was the first member of the Organization that he had met since their 'mishaps' and he believed that a few of them would still be dead also. Then again they too may have resurrected elsewhere. #10 was leaving nothing to chance, this time, he would hold all the cards. "With this second chance...we can plan a better strategy for dealing with the heroes of the keyblade...what say you?" asking in a friendly manner. Again this wasn't intentional. Like most nobodies his body decided what way to say something, due to the lack of a heart.

[Beaver Dude]

Heh.

Conversation. A forte.

Heh. Heheheheheh...

v.v.v.v.v

He listened attentively to the mission briefing, pausing to digest each piecemeal fact, placing some in the useful category, others in the dubious category and some in the 'clearly' red herring category. Legends were only legends for so long before they became rather stunted by reality. No doubt this 'crimson tower' was a little bit of an exaggerration.

He was hopeful about the sand dragon though. Something that could swallow a tower... that would certainly be a sight to see. He wouldn't be able to follow it, if it chose to return to the sand but to simply see it would certainly be worth the price of admission.

And it appeared Luxord was misinformed about certain issues. Save for Lexaeus, and Xemnas, Xaldin had seen almost all of Org rise again. And there had been hints that Xemnas had been active before Xaldin had rised again. Nothing solid, of course. But the signs were there. Whiffs of his presence. Memories in the shape of a Nobody manipulating ice.

"Our comrades are mostly risen. But they would no doubt appreciate the thought," Xaldin said. His tone would be dismissive if it came from a Somebody. From a Nobody, it was factual and nearly un-judgmental. Nearly. He was still interested in the prospect of seeing the dragons he knew to exist here. Quite a bit more interested than the relic, truthfully speaking.

But back on subject.

"But with these Sands you can do this? Reverse death itself?" His brow furrowed. "Such artifacts... have costs associated with them, do they not?"

What is the catch?

Xaldin had stared death in the face. Seen its hair burn and its skin switch from red to blue and back again. It had been a most unpleasant experience. He had no intention of repeating it.

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[seraph]

[ Sorry it's taken me all day to post. Been going crazy on KH2FM+ and 358/2 days to get right inside Luxord's head xD ]

"Hmm. Is that so?" he said more to himself than his comrade. To be honest he wasn't that surprised at the news. What made him so special compared to the rest of them. Nothing...that was apparent as of yet anyway. Stroking his finely groomed white beard, he could not help but notice that time was escaping them and if he had any chance of getting to these Sands before heat stroke claimed him, they would have to be swift. Making a slight jerking motion in discomfort from the heat, the Gambler turned away from Xaldin heading towards the end of the Rampart facing towards the great sand maw. This was only a few steps however.

"Such artifacts... have costs associated with them, do they not?"

A surprising statement from the Lancer to be sure. Luxord had him pinned as a brawler, much like Lexaeus. They did the heavy lifting of the Organization and let the smarter people like himself do the thinking for them. With a coy smile he turned to face his comrade once again, with renewed vigor clearly labeled on his face. "When you were dealt perceptiveness, it appears you cleaned out the pot" he motioned with his hand in a manner of being impressed. Again he spewed out some metaphors to do with cards or gambling. Far beyond him to stop his old habits from dying. In 'life' as it were previous, his addiction to the game became so severe it took over his very being. Even with the loss of his heart, the scars remain.

"Yes. But assuming the worse cost is death, have we not already defied those odds simply standing here?" he asked in an intrigued manner. More and more he found himself wandering what it is that his comrades strived for in their dulled lives. Death had given him some sort of insight into the logic of others, or more accurately the thirst for it. As he stood awaiting an answer his eyes shifted to his right eying the sands again. Something didn't feel right once more. Hopefully Xaldin would pick up on this and they could be on they're way to this crimson tower, or whatever that was. The Gambler was sure his comrade was simply itching to meet with this dragon that accompanied such folklore.

[Beaver Dude]

Though his expression was sly, his manner - as per normal with all Nobodies - indifferent, Xaldin saw a flicker of something... different in the gambler. An emotion, or something close. His brain ruffled through its closets, hunting for the term - it was there he knew, at the tip of his tongue but it'd been so long since he'd bothered to look or identify such things that it just hovered there at the periphery of his awareness like an incomplete sneeze.

There was a saying for such things. The cat has his -

Xaldin blinked.

Ah. That was it. Curiosity.

How... interesting.

Between probing mental digits, he summoned to mind a memory of what had once happened. It was blurry and fragmented, hardly more coherent or substantial than a dream. But it had been death. His. As he understood the situation, it was quite unique in that it was supposed to have been permanent. A smoky voice, like ashes and brimstone came to mind. The instructions he'd received were burned into his memory, probably permanently.

"What I NEED are items with the gods' powers in them."

But back on topic.

Xaldin rose a T-shaped eyebrow. Someone once had the wherewithal to question whether or not they were natural.

"I notice you have yet to answer the question, Ten."

In the past he would have added: 'do not forget your place.' But the time when he could so deride even the concept of allies and alliances within the Organization was quite irrevocably gone. A pity. He considered the memory and switched subjects.

"There were no 'odds,' " Xaldin said dismissively although his eyes flickered so quickly between different echoes of emotions they may as well have been perfectly blank. Was he tossing a bone or...? "Favors were traded. A transaction completed."

"The cost was not... insignificant."

There was a pause. The winds whipped and moaned across the dessert.

"So I ask once more: what is the price of this endeavor?"

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[ooc: Gah. I seem to have overstretched myself RP-wise. I can post more quickly, but they'll be significantly shorter posts. Up to yousa.

Also, sorry about the quality. ^^;]

[seraph]

[ I'd prefer to wait for the detailed ones if you wouldn't mind. Makes them far more interesting...]

He was was aggravating Xaldin. At least he would have been if the later had a heart to feel with. What III was saying was correct in a way. The game that Luxord was playing was too vast and deep for most of the Nobodies to fathom. That was for another tale however. With a coy smirk on his face he turned towards Xaldin once more. "They're is always a price associated with choice" he began with an enigmatic tone. That ridiculous smirk of his deepened on his chiseled face.

"Either way, I ask that you trust me for the moment. Time grows short, and I fear they're isn't many rounds left for this world..." he motioned with his arm towards the desert. That uncomfortable feeling returned again but it appeared a little different. However he felt that Xaldin would be dissatisfied with that he had just said but it would have to do. Luxord didn't feel like saying what he planned, however it was nothing to harm the Organization what so ever. "I assure you, if we reach the object in question, you will receive a full explanation" he finished bowing his head in a acknowledgment oh his good will. The Gambler was telling the truth.

[Excuse the crap post. Want to move this along and not reveal to much xD]

[Beaver Dude]

Trust. A funny thing to bring up. Especially in light of past… indiscretions that had occurred within the Organization. Xaldin wondered if Luxord truly understood the implications of the statement or had merely thrown it out there, another bet, another gamble, another roll of the dice – let it fall where it may, snake eyes or boxcars.

The wind stirred, sluggish as it spent itself out, leaving the air calm and quiet. Xaldin poked at it idly with his magic as his thought weaved and spun, in and out.

No, probably not. As Xaldin had been a professional soldier, Luxord had been – by all accounts – a professional gambler. Master and artisan. He’d even learned that ridiculously fighting style despite the fact that there were rather more combat-effective styles to learn. Ones that didn’t rely on razor-sharp throwing cards.

Another low howl of the wind sent sand wheeling towards them. With an idle wave he banished the minor distraction.

“I better receive more than an explanation,” the lancer murmured. An obedient breeze ruffled his hair, allowed him to cool off just a little bit despite the strong sun and stronger heat. As he fingered the chain of wind he had purchased, his expression settled into a lazy, self-satisfied grimace. Perhaps something entertaining might occur. Luxord had promised him a dragon and, as far as he had known the gambler, the Nobody had yet to renege on a bet.

“Let’s get going.”

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[seraph]

The Gambler had noted his first comment, but simply shrugged it off with a coy smirk. Luxord would do his best to satiate this need. Once Xaldin had made the decision to move on with whatever #10 had planned, he gave a slight bow in acknowledgment. Waving his left hand in front of him, he summoned it. First a small puddle of opaque liquid formed blocking out the sandstone it covered completely. Within seconds it grew in size, ebbing dark mist. Finally it rose out of its murky depths, towering above both of them at about 6 meters tall. Nothing special. A corridor of darkness that allowed more than one person to travel along it.

It led to that abandoned city in the background. According to the book he had come across, thats where the Sands were stored upon being created elsewhere. Stepping through with no sign of emotion on his somewhat handsome face, the Gambler emerged on the other side of the darkness. Littered around the new area was stones and broken buildings. In front of him a crumbling archway that appeared it would give way at any moment. Behind him the portal still resonated with the darkness, a stark contrast to the beige coloured landscape.

Turning every couple of seconds, Luxord surveyed each building he could immediately see. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, then again a relic so powerful would not be easy to find. Perhaps it didn't exist at all. This was a gamble he was willing to risk however. It didn't take long before he noticed something in the distance, about 200 meters or so away from his current position. A small opening in the cliff side looked far too suspicious. His devious smirk appeared whilst he gave a glance behind him to check that Xaldin was still with him. "There has been something that has been bothering me..." he began with a little concern evident in his voice, if thats what he truly felt. "...what of the Superior?" he asked almost as uttering his name would strike a bolt of lightning down upon him. He wondered this simply because he would have found them all by now and re-united them with some sort of purpose. However he had not done so. Luxord suspected treachery, and a flower power princess at the center of it all.

[Beaver Dude]

Xaldin had never seen a corridor of this size - it was nearly two stories tall, if not quite as wide. It was likely large enough to fit a small army including a small (or at least narrow) tank. The lancer's eyes narrowed - just what had the gambler been doing in his free time, out of touch and out of sight of the rest of the Organization?

Towering, the darkness beckoned.

Xaldin grimaced and stepped through.

____________________

If the World that Never Was had a portion of it dedicated to ancient architecture and desert landscapes, the place where they were currently visiting wouldn't have been terribly out of place. Like the Nobodies that inhabited it, The World that Never was had the odd predilection towards form without function. It tried to, almost desperately, be a world, but it never quite managed.

There was rain but no standing bodies of water. Electricity that had no generators. Buildings that would never be lived in. Trash that did not rot.

Heartless that wandered to and fro, their hunger unsated but their prey elsewhere.

But if The World that Never Was was an illusion crafted to mimic, this was merely a dead city being overtaken by nature. It had function, form and maybe soul. Its limestone walls and mudbrick facade would fall to dust and ruin sooner or later. But its passing was a soft and gentle thing - natural, if death could be called such.

Xaldin wondered if a dragon would call this place home.

Luxord was speaking. He'd missed the first bit. Damn. That was poor form - he needed to be alert. The gambler was not an ally, not necessarily.

"...what of the Superior?"

Yes, what of the Superior. A delicate question. The lancer mused if Luxord had any idea as to how delicate.

"He died," Xaldin said simply.

And then he came back to life and quite unaccountably disappeared.

But that wasn't common knowledge. In fact, Xaldin had gone to great lengths to make sure that only a select few knew he was aware that Xemnas had revived and then disappeared, apparently while scouting for new recruits to fill the dilapidated ranks of the Organization. Xaldin himself had never seen the Superior since his own death at the hands of the current keyblade wielder. It'd taken a great deal of luck to learn that few of the others (if any) were aware that Xemnas had returned, albeit briefly.

"Management is being... discussed."

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[seraph]

The Gambler only snorted in what could have been false amusement to the first comment Xaldin made. The Superior dead? It seemed impossible to #10. He whom all nothingness surrounded itself imbuing the very nature of all that was a Nobody. Only a few seconds of musing were required in order for Luxord to reshuffle his thinking. Now it made sense. All twelve members had fallen to that keyblade, one way or another. Why not the very instigator of this whole game. For some reason that portal of darkness lingered a while longer than it had been intended. However once Xaldin had finished his reply its rather large form disintegrated into wisps of purple mist soon dispersed by the winds.

Of course the Gambler knew who was in charge at the moment. It was obvious, at least to him. Or perhaps it was simple paranoia. About a year ago the time tinkerer requested to be made Lord of Castle Oblivion once the mission to investigate it had been issued. However the assassin had been chosen to lead the team. A crushing blow to his ego but after hearing of they're demise he was kind of glad, if that was possible. "Oh?" he began in response, feigning surprise. He turned to face Xaldin with all of his body now.

The hear radiated from the sky, increasing his temperature evermore so with each passing moment. Beads of sweat had formed on his brow which were starting to agitate the Nobody out of discomfort. "Saix not cleared the table?" he asked in a curious tone, wiping his forehead at the same time. Truth be told, Luxord believed if there ever happened to be a Superior down, Saix would assume control. No one would dare challenge him. Both his intellect and his dormant fury were powerful adversaries. Before long however he formed a new hypothesis as to what was going on.

With a devious smile whilst cocking his head to one side he uttered some words mainly to himself. "Unless Marluxia has a royal flush?" he finished just loud enough for Xaldin to hear. He really did overdo it with his gambling metaphors. But alas, it was ground into his nature. Luxord could no more escape these metaphors than the sky escape clouds. In the distance behind Xaldin a faint glimmer caught his cerulean eyes. A crimson tower perhaps? Now he stared focusing his vision to confirm whether what he had seen was no mirage.