The Sands of Time

[Beaver Dude]

If Nobodies could be slightly peeved, Xaldin would have been. Had everyone seen Marluxia for the power-hungry lordling that he had fashioned himself into? In a prior life, Xaldin hadn't bothered to remember more than a smattering of details involving the Assassin - merely enough to know that he was competent with plant life, wielded a scythe and numbered eleven. And that his Somebody was likely a farmer given those qualities, but he'd kept that particular fact out of common circulation. No need to have any unfortunate animosity - some habits died hard and it wouldn't do for the Organization to turn on itself for something so incredibly petty.

Oh, and another trait: he'd fallen to Sora. But that had become something of a trend within the Organization and it had quickly failed to become a defining feature.

"Well," Xaldin said, pursing his lips, "if you would like to indulge in gambling metaphors..."

Xaldin watched the gambler intently. A facade that had already been trained by a lifetime of gambling would have been rendered possibly less expressive than even a Nobody's expression which was subject to echoes of Heart - but Xaldin had once been known for his keen eye, second only to the Sharpshooter's. If he bothered to pay attention, he could at least remember every twitch, every motion, every mutter. Dilan had grown up on the streets. There were certain skills one did not take out of the box very often, but still lay amongst the tools at his disposal.

He needed to keep this suitably vague. Some people had habits to help them think - Even used to fiddle with his hair, Ienzo thumbed the spine of his books.

Braig shot people with squirt guns.

If the tenth had any inklings... perhaps he'd reveal them now.

"He captured the suicide king. I'm afraid no one could quite top that."

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[seraph]

What was this? Xaldin showing some intellect. Another pleasant surprise. "It appears I underestimated him" he thought to himself with a wicked smile spreading on his face in amusement. Yet another amused ( a fake one mind you ) grunt escaped from his lips. Whatever had happened resorting in the somewhat untimely 'second' demise of the Superior didn't interest the Gambler what so ever. That hand had already been played and discarded. Even now the game was still reeling from that flush that the flower powered princess had played. Gambling everything in that hand was clearly envious. Luxord only wished he had the opportunity to play such a 'pervasive' hand. His time would come.

Taking a few steps away from Xaldin, he carried on heading in what appeared to be that fabled crimson tower. In a small amount of steps he cleared the light brown coloured hill, barren of any vegetation. There it was clear as day. A column of fire reaching for the heavens with its top glazed in a brilliant gold. That devious smile of amusement simply deepened as his eyes appeared to light up. Habits resurfacing again. "I'm afraid I haven't been honest with you Xaldin..." he started his sentence still glaring down the fiery tower in the distance. Once it had ended however his cerulean eyes now lay upon his comrades face.

Now it appeared that that 'happy' look had faded somewhat leaving only a meek expression in its shadow. "I've already met with the 'Superior'...I was simply testing you" he finished adding an emphasis on the word superior simply to note he knew what had occurred. In fact Luxord had come straight from meeting the Assassin to this world simply because the cards led him here. A true dealer of the deck indeed. Plus he had a new title to flaunt. "My apologies" he said rather quietly whilst bowing his head to his comrade, closing his eyes in the process. However before anything became close to being awkward the Gambler began speaking once more leaving little room for Xaldin to reply. "However...I have located the supposed resting place of the Sands" he informed with a more cheery tone about him...if that was possible.

[Beaver Dude]

So intent was he upon Luxord's expression that he nearly missed the forest for the trees.

Luxord had known all along. Had been, quote-unquote, 'testing' him. Paranoia made a leap of logic that was all too reasonable: Xaldin had failed a test; new administration would weed out the dissidents; Luxord would be his assassin; the time to act was yesterday; the dead could stay dead if properly killed. That particular edification had him reaching for the Darkness, for the power of the brutal winds and piranha-fish spears and that curving maniacal smile that could be dark, deep and deadly.

And then the warrior-dragoon-scientist realized, somewhat to his discomfort, that he'd passed the 'test'. The things that tipped him off to do this particular fact were Luxord's expression (honestly, if the Nobody planned to assassinate someone of his power with his eyes closed Ten deserved to die) and the sudden comprehension of what the words, and not merely the physical impressions, had meant.

And, really, given Luxord's disposition, it probably wasn't even that sort of 'test' - perhaps it had been a mind game, or a word game of some sort. Ten wouldn't be quite so foolish as to reveal that sort of loaded die without proper... inducement. Or at least context. Assassins needed to be subtle when operating within a small group of rather associates. One did not have the same luxuries an assassin operating in a larger community, or World.

Hrnnn.

Adrenaline ebbed but the memory of sudden excitement refused to go, leaving the warrior twitchy.

"Lead on, then." Xaldin said, his tone slightly more menacing than absolutely necessary.

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[seraph]

A slight grin escaped his lips. Had he 'peeved' Xaldin? Perhaps. He could care less. Luxord wasn't here to annoy or get in the good books of any of his comrades. The sands of time would be his, and therefore the first part of his plan would come to fruition. However now was not the time or the place to reveal his hand. Especially to Xaldin. He was nothing more than a mere tool when it boiled down to it. "With pleasure..." he replied in an almost pleased tone. Getting one over on Xaldin granted a small satisfaction. With that he turned on his heel in a somewhat graceful manner flicking his left hand in front of him as he went.

No more than two meters in front of him he beckoned the darkness. Within seconds that compelling feeling took over urging Luxord to step into its deep abyss. Casually he strolled through it and the familiar sense of displacement occurred yet again. This is where Luxord was being lazy about traveling as he had shortened his travel time to mere seconds. Closing the gap between his previous location and the crimson tower, the fiery red edifice now stood before him. The portal of darkness he had used remained open so that Xaldin could use it as well. Moving a few steps away from it he examined its golden door way.

Upon it were odd markings etched into the surface. It appeared to be some kind of language however it was unreadable to the Gambler, and to the Lancer one would expect. Reaching the door he placed his gloved hands upon it, stroking the symbols carefully with all of his care and attention. "How interesting..." he muttered to himself. What was a little bit concerning was that the door upon further inspection seemed to have been opened. Recently. With a motion of his right hand four cards appeared with swirls of black and purple jagged light. "It would appear we have visitors" he said in a rather cold tone nodding toward his comrade. Things were about to get interesting.

[Beaver Dude]

Worlds open to Darkness are worlds open to Life and Death.

Far beneath the two warriors, beneath the Other; beneath even the catacombs that housed ancient gods and heroes, something stirred. Slowly at first: it wasn't blood, but bile that did first move; a sluggish spell sparked; an old and worn alchemical array began to glow; a rumble that was part yawn, part long-held furor was held and released; a worn and rusty thunderbolt jolted; a manacled Heart was forced once again to beat.

There had once been stairs, leading here. Gone, of course. But yes, once upon a time, little things with sticks and stone had come to brave the monster.

There had been a Before too. A time of great ________, when He had circled the world and decided to call it home. Little creatures had given Him tribute and he had protected them, played with them, toyed with them, eaten with them. They had sung song, written epics, penned poetry. All in his honor. All gone, gone to dust. He should have left: instead, ________. Spells had held him down, made him weak, senile, stupid, slow.

Now all that was left was the anger.

The stairs had gone to to rust and ruin; the spells shriveled into weak and formless blobs, little blips of a dream in an ever-waking nightmare. The story, once legend and once fairy tale, was now forgotten, no longer even told to frighten young children. Something, some multicolored nonsense of a woman and a thousand and one nights had replaced Him.

He had wondered. Dreamed.

And now, slowly.

Woke.

__________________

Xaldin didn't question the unlikely timing: if life had taught him anything, the one in a million statistics were par for the course when magic became involved. Instead, he sent his senses seeking for any hint of a living presence. Nothing. If, as Luxord suspected, there were other plunderers, they were outside Xaldin's effective range.

There was another option. Xaldin stretched his senses into the room hunting for fresh air.

Well, fresh air in a manner of speaking. What was blistering hot here was blistering hot and stale there. There was a degree of difference, dust, particles and so on from what Xaldin expected but the city had not been hermetically sealed and having been a dead for so long it was difficult to judge if there had been intrusions and if so how long ago they had occurred. He'd have better luck looking for footprints in the dust.

Also, there was something about this place. The air didn't move quite... right.

Hmm. He'd see to it later.

Silently, his lances appeared, fanged terrors ready for some less than sanguine negotiations with whoever else had come treasure-seeking. No Heartless had yet appeared, but that rarely meant much especially here where there were so few living things. A prodigiously strong heart would need to be both active and present in order to draw any of them.

He nodded silently to Luxord: it was the Gambler's operation; Ten would get to choose whether to take point or not.

[seraph]

After been granted the confirmation Xaldin had his back, those menacing lances, cerulean in colour appeared behind they're master. Of all of the weapons of his comrades these were the most menacing, or so he would believed to have felt. They seemed to have an eerie effect on people who could 'feel' fear. However his gaze upon them lasted a mere moment in which the Gambler raised his cards to his chest in a reactive stance as he edged towards the doors. Using his free hand he opened it, a loud and echoing creaking sound of rusted bolts filled his ears. If he had a heart this is where the hairs on the back of his neck would stand on end. At first the darkness would not give away its image. Nothing but pitch black.

As the entrance doors swung open allowing the light to creep in bit by bit each piece of the room began to flood into his retina. Sandstone was the main feature until his eyes rested on a corner. It all happened so quickly. A blur of silver rushed towards the Nobody raising what at first glance looked to be a weapon. If it was blunt or edged Luxord didn't care to find out as he rather skillfully, but mainly out of pure chance, dodged to his left dodging the weapon. It was revealed to be a sword of some kind as with a snap of his fingers time came to a near stop.

That sword blurred ever so slightly as the pulses of time rebounded of each wall. It was a blade of some kind. Clearly it wasn't from this world as it had a medieval style to it but modern. It almost appeared to be remodeled after an ancient sword. Yet it held a trigger near the handle. Not only that but the person wielding this would-be murder weapon was clad in a similar armour to how the sword was decorated. A crest emblazoned on its left breastplate over its heart. A glyph of some kind, one that Luxord didn't recognize. Presumably a male adversary he was glad in a full suit of armour the Gambler would soon discover. How number ten stood in awe. Many questions swirled around his head. Out of all the cards fate could deal him why this? Time was running short. Armed with his four cards he dismissed two of them returning them to his deck.

Giving the second card to his free hand he readied himself as time would soon come back to its normal flow and the Gambler decided to put on a show for his ally. As it flooded back Luxord swung the right card hard and fast into the right side of this persons chest cavity. Not a scratch. Now his position had been given away and the knight aimed a slash back at him. Raising his left card to intercept the blow he could only back away in what may have been horror or perhaps disbelief as his card was cleaved in half. Hopping several steps back he summoned more cards as he threw the one in his right hand gasping as he went. It flew towards the knight as he gave our an almighty battle cry. However it soon stopped as the card, as luck might have it, had broken through the armour at the neck severing a particular artery.

Watching with what anyone could swear was a smirk on his face, Number X stood by the squirming body on the floor. Its weapon had been dropped with a loud clanging sound upon the sandstone floor as he clutched his neck where the card had penetrated. Not a nice way to go but all the necessary for the Gambler of Fate. Most of the blood was seeping through and the sound of it squirting on the inside of the armour was quite ghastly. After several seconds the body stopped moving. Motionless it lay on the floor as Luxord took a few steps towards it. Scarlet fluid was leaking all the way around from the armour. With this much blood this person was most definitely dead. This skirmish had lasted mere seconds.

With a confused grimace on his face he turned to his comrade. "Clearly not from this world" he began finally letting his guard down as seeing there was no more foes...for now. Kneeling down, being careful to stop his cloak from dipping in his latest kills blood, he examined that crest some more. Taking out a small object from his pocket, it appeared silver with black markings upon it. A small click occurred when a button was pressed accompanied by a flash of light. A camera. One of Vexen's useful inventions for data collecting in the field. "Have you seen such a coat of arms?" he asked Xaldin beckoning him to come closer to examine it. "Perhaps Zexion may know more about this subject. All that intellectual fool does it prattle on about books and novels..." he thought to himself. This thought had been a product of taking a picture of the crest. Soon after he raised to his feet and took a picture of the sword and then the whole body. From there he raised his eyebrows expecting a reply from the lancer. The Gambler was still a little on edge. Close combat was never his thing. In fact combat in general wasn't his thing.

[ The plot thickens xD. Did someone say dragon? ]

[Beaver Dude]

Tricky, tricky. Luxord had never evidenced such a... brutal means of fighting before. Xaldin had thought him more of the artistic type. An elegant wit and a weapon to match.

Well, that's what preconceptions got you. Surprises. The pool of blood extended but was already drying out as it seeped into the parched stone and dust, turning the ground into the appearance of rust. It was actually rather pretty if you didn't stop to think about the origin.

But being a Nobody, Xaldin didn't need to worry about petty morals to appreciate the scene for its color. Not that his appreciation could be any more than a dull echo of former feelings.

Major vascular injuries were dreadful things. Messy - but all other things equal, mercifully swift. The brain required an absolute minimum of blood to function and once that vital equilibrium was lost so was consciousness and quickly following that, life. It wasn't an easy attack to make - if it were, natural selection would have gotten rid of a lot more humans a lot sooner. And that armor...

Suspicion sharpened, but held off from becoming paranoia or bloodlust. For now, anyway.

Xaldin floated forwards, toed the corpse with his boot, heedless of the mess. It definitely was not the first and it probably would not the last time he'd step something that had been, only seconds before, red and vital and internal. Xaldin considered the scene carefully as he examined the unlikely body. The weapon was interesting but the armor itself was definitely out of place. For one thing, if it anything like the metals he was familiar with, the person inside should have easily dehydrated and possibly scorched himself merely by wearing it.

"Clearly not of this world," Ten said shattering the postmortem silence that Xaldin hadn't even realized was there. The lancer inclined his head a small fraction of a degree, agreeing but still puzzled. Those that came from other worlds still followed the World's rules. Either the now-dead warrior had not been fighting for very long, or he had access to some form of magic, possibly technological.

Ten took out a camera. Snapped a shot.

"The emblem is foreign to me," Xaldin admitted as he continued to scrutinize the body. He considered the wisdom of stripping off the helmet and paired it against the likelihood of some form trap. The odds weren't spectacular. And the payoff wasn't all that great either. "The weapon," he said, motioning to it with his lances which obliged him by carefully picking it up as if they were nothing more than giant chopsticks or tweezers, "looks a bit like an ancient gunblade. There were a few in Radiant Garden before the fall."

He rotated the weapon carefully - if it fell and went off, that'd be somewhat embarrassing if not immediately fatal.

He thought back. His eyes narrowed.

"In fact, I saw a rather modern one not long ago."

Pause.

"I highly doubt the two situations are related. If they are..." Xaldin hesitated. He'd look forward to a match two against Squall and that strange program. "If they are, the situation is critical. We may want to speed the itinerary along."

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[seraph]

Something that Luxord had noticed after this commotion sorted itself out was the distinct contrast in temperature. Outside it was scorching hot yet in here it was almost...cold. However this wasn't the main issue here. Stowing away his data equipment he loomed over the body. Listening intently with a serious look upon his face the Nobody studied the body further as Xaldin began to speak of the weapon he used. It managed to cleave through his magic endowed deck without any resistance. Whatever they were dealing with here they were no amateurs. It was pure chance that brought this knight down, not skill. Perhaps Xaldin's weapons would have more of an effect on this armour whatever it was.

"If they are, the situation is critical. We may want to speed the itinerary along"

Luxord gave a nod with a agreement along with a little grunt. Now getting back to his feet he backed away from the body once more. "Perhaps we should RTC...call in some backup" he proposed to Xaldin. Although he didn't fear his own demise, he wasn't capable of doing so, it seemed logical for some 'heavy hitters' to accompany them. No. X put the Lancer into this bracket however he would feel at ease with say two more, like Saix and Lexaeus, if the latter were available. Folding his arms over his chest, his head cocked to a small degree as he awaited his answer.

Things went a bit awry from there however. In the distant darkness a single gunshot fired. Loud and somewhat haunting, the sound was barely muffled. Whoever had fired such a weapon was close. "Seems like we have more players..." he muttered. Flexing his right hand three cards appeared in a perfect fan formation. Those gloved fingers of his coiled around them keeping a firm grip upon them. "We couldn't return to the castle with such little information. #4 would have a meltdown..." he stated with a little chuckle escaping at the end of his sentence. "Forgive my cowardice, but this little incident has proven I don't handle said situations...very well. Would you care to take point comrade?" he said with a slightly sinister smile on his face awaiting a second answer.

[Beaver Dude]

Xaldin considered the gunblade carefully before letting his lances toss it on the ground where it vanished into a puff of Darkness: while they could retrieve it from the Corridors for further inspection, if it turned out to be some sort of elaborate trap it would do no harm while remaining in the world between worlds. There were far too many worlds where paranoia was l'ordre du jour.

Justified paranoia, admittedly.

"Call for back-up."

Xaldin gritted his teeth. While it was sound strategy, they needed to hurry. Despite Xemnas' lack of re-appearance, there were still basic missions that needed accomplishing and it was not easy to locate the other members on a whimsy. Added to the fact that They might be here, as well as the Gambler's subtle hints that whatever was here they were looking for was rather powerful they needed to press on.

Yes, it had nothing to do with the blood drumming against his ears and the faint twitches of his fingers.

Gunshots. Xaldin relaxed and nearly smiled.

"...take point comrade?"

The third raised an eyebrow and gestured at the corpse with a forced, languid motion. "I think you did fine, however..."

Energy flared as Xaldin summoned his remaining weapons : creeping, unnatural shadows suffused the room as six identical funnel-shaped vortices surrounded him at roughly equal distance from each other before disappearing altogether to take the shape of six identical, double-ended lances. Xaldin grabbed three out of the air and rose on an updraft of power until he was nearly standing five feet above the ground. No doubt at lower levels he would be required to head back down to earth but for now...

He started slowly walking towards the sound of gunfire.

"Let's go hunting."