"Wha, huh?"

Victor, after having been knocked down mercilessly by Mizer, had... fallen asleep. Even the middle of the stairway seemed comfortable to the sleepy Bard, and he had already been lying down anyways. He struggled to rise to his feet, but could only manage to push himself up a bit before collapsing and almost nodding off once more.

The second time was the charm, though, and he after a few grueling minutes of excruciating effort on his part, with absolutely no help from any of his supposed "teammates", Victor managed to stand lazily on his two feet. Reaching limply into his cloak, he unsheathed and readied his dagger, slashing it slowly and haphazardly in the air before him.

"Don't... don't worry Alf... I... 'll get... get him," the Bard mumbled drowsily. But the weight of the dagger was too much for him, and he nearly crumpled back down to the ground. Somehow he stayed on his feet, though. He wondered why no one was praising his efforts yet.

Stumbling forward this time, he sheathed his dagger and proceeded slowly towards Alpha, apparently forgetting about his imaginary foe. Waving the Sheikah forward, he quietly yelled:

"I'm coming... I'm coming..."

And continued shuffling after the two...

Mizer and Alpha were already far ahead of Victor at that point, but the former of these two decided to stop the mage at the first floor to allow the bard to catch up. When he came into sight, Mizer nodded to Alpha and continued at a quick pace to the Gathering Hall, looking back at Victor wit ha raised eyebrow. He skidded to a stop outside the Hall and shook his head. “Were you... sleeping, Victor?” he asked with a tone of incredulity.

The lobby was quite barren today - the only sight to see was a single Apostle standing alone just beyond the middle of the great entrance. Her hood was down, revealing the long, lustrous red locks of hair that clung to her shoulders. If Alpha and Victor remembered the events of the Hospital (Victor could probably still taste those events), they would remember the neat scarlet hair. Trish was easy to remember, mainly for her outwardly beautiful face and her hair, which most would compare to the flowing strands of Din herself. She stood waiting, and didn't even notice the three men dashing about behind her.

The curious figure of Arco could also be seen from the viewpoint that Mizer, Victor and Alpha were standing at. Although, the two adventurers-turned-Apostles had probably not even seen the Sheikah in his current attire and condition. A shorter man stood holding the main doorway open for the would-be stranger, and so he was obviously being welcomed in warmly. Perhaps this was the man Trish was waiting for?

Before Victor or Alpha could even ascertain a piece of Arco's identity, Mizer had the doors to the Gathering Hall open and was guiding them inside. The long white table stretched out wondrously before them, but it was bare and uninhabited, its chairs pushed in tidily and with discipline. At the table's head stood two cloaked persons, both with hoods down and faces clear. Myst's aged and pained face was the most easily recognized, and who could forget Tristan's eager eyes and thick face wit hits small tuft of rocky 'hair' at its tip?

“Where's Tayro!” growled Tristan as the three Apostles approached. Mizer cleared his throat and shook his head. “Asleep, and we should keep it that way, I'd say. Poor kid took quite a beating from Jett.”

The Goron nodded and let Myst take the floor. The old Sheikah hacked and coughed, cracking his neck to relieve some bone stress. “Mizer, Alpha, Victor...” he said wearily, his voice full of that sick fatigue that Myst was well-known for. “Please, go to the entrance and help Helena. The other sentry just returned and said we've had a few... unruly visitors today.” The Sheikah coughed some more, but said nothing. He was not one for speeches, or at least not today, and he couldn't even remember the name of one of his close friends - the other sentry.

Tristan leaned closer. “It's acting up again,” he whispered, knowing that at least Mizer would know what the leader meant by that.

<center>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ </center>

The unidentified man ran down the stairs and into the lobby only a few moments after the Gathering Hall door closed behind Mizer, Victor and Alpha. He knew that Tayro was following him, perhaps only out of curiosity now. Nervously, he gathered insight of the three people before him. Trish, someone else, and... someone he could not describe properly at that moment.

He slowed his pace when passing Trish, and whispered a quick “Hullo” in a voice that was slightly distorted compared to the one he had spoken to Tayro in. He passed Arco, nudging him accidentally and stuttered an apologetic slur. And then he was gone.

On the bridge, he relaxed. A few hisses came up from around him, and he pointed to a few feral creatures rising up out of the darkness. “You see what this place is all about, Tayro? Monsters and secrets. This is not the place for a boy to spend his time. I'm Tiphan. It was nice knowing you.” The man took a step back and disappeared, leaving the youth alone in the dark with three horrid spiders creeping ever closer to his legs.

<center>Oblivion Skulltula
30 HP, 30 SPL

Absorb DMG: 25% Of Victim's HP, adds to own HP.
Web DMG: 10, restricts movement for two turns (if check succeeds).
Fang DMG: STR, Status Effect: Poison</center>

• Strength: 4
  Defense: 15
  Agility: 8
  Intelligence: 0
  Spirit: 2

OOC: May want to attack

OOC: Ahh, this is good. For a while I was pondering how interestingly I could have Arco walk in the door without acknowledging the doorman much. Three sentences, maybe? Ahaha...

IC: Arco, with his fist suspended in its knocking position, must have proved a daunting figure to open the large door to. For he did stand there, frozen exactly as the cloaked man appeared around the door... maybe conserving energy, as if even replacing one's hand to one's side was an expenditure that the Sheikah had rendered unnecessary. Regardless, his frame hung there as such as he listened intently, as if reaping secrets from a guru.

Parco Bizzikin the Ard?

Arco's jaw set slightly, a hands-free equivalent of him pulling on his chin in wonder. But there was no time to contemplate dysfunctional inter-reverse pig-Hylian or any other topic (oh, but had he the time, how he would have enjoyed a long consideration of the man's strange vocal expression!), as a red flag name came to the Bard's overtrained ears.

Gorman.

He rolled his shoulder blades slightly as if to say, "Finally," which also served to realign his large hat on the center of his back... he took a step forward and blinked several times to adjust to the slight lighting change, and as such did not identify the cloaked adventurers beyond. It wasn't as if Trish Gorman wasn't standing right in front of him, anyway, though what went on in Arco's mind was probably a mystery even to him.

At this point, he reached a hand to his side to withdraw the half-pendant... only to have some strange instinct cause him to flick that same hand up, to the oblique, as the strange man hurried by, bumping his hat and causing it to swing, unruly. The pendant, held by the cord, flew a surprisingly intense three or four circles--whipwhipwhipwhip--around Arco's hand before snapping into his open palm with a satisfying slampk.

And perhaps somewhere here Tayro swept by as well, and of course the doorkeeper-apostle was still present, but the Bard was lost in the completion of the admittedly small journey to this place, which had begun ever since he came upon the broken pendant in the first place. He stared forward, and eventually his feet followed, moving him into the castle. And then he said nothing.

To Mizer's question, regardless of how rhetorical it may have been, Victor nodded slowly. He said nothing, however, and merely kept right on walking. The Bard was far too lazy to stop, seeing as how he was already moving. He simply let his feet carry him and seemed to be sleeping in an upright, moving, conscious... conscious? Yes, conscious position.

He noticed nothing. Oh, Victor might have seen Trish, the doorman, or even possibly recognized Arco, but he noticed nothing. After all, his eyelids were three quarters of the way closed. He could just barely see Alpha's back, which he was following without question.

They entered the Gathering Hall. Had the Bard been in the mood, he might have bowed, might have been more formal. But in this case he chose to plop into the nearest chair, sink into a low position, and settle with a somewhat-satisfied grunt. But the meeting didn't seem to last long, at at Myst's simple words Victor groaned, wishing them to be longer so that he might fake attention and perhaps sleep a bit.

This groan, though, was indeed audible. To the articulate rested, it may have sounded less like a groan and vaguely like a lazy "Whazzuh?" A question that surely would have been directed at Tristan, and in a way was.

Argh! The nerve of some people! - he remarked mentally, as he hastily followed the fellow Apostle. If icy cold glares could kill, then this unknown man would have been dead over and over again. Being driven by curiosity alone of about a certain intelligence - be it his own or not - the irritating individual had spoken, he proceeded down the long staircase, and it was strange on how it didn't seem so lengthy the last time he had passed through here. Nevertheless, one thing was certain - after this matter was done with, the youth definitely didn't want to see that man never again - and if he did, at a great distance. I mean, first he wakes me up rudely while I didn't have any chance of getting a rest, now he's ordering me around like a lapdog! Who does that creep think he is?! - he commented internally, as the base floor got nearer. Not wanting to discuss any more matters with the Apostle, his mind retreated to another place while his legs did the running. Namely, the dream he had. I wonder what it was all about... that woman seemed awfully familiar... but from where? - he pondered, but the lack of answer was obvious when he reached the first floor.

Letting go of his train of thought, he glanced around the main hall - the place he had first came in a while ago by being teleported from the Deku Woods, during his battle with the Moblins. A door had shut just a few moments ago - he had heard their creaking sound as they closed - and thus whatever contents that room had were unknown. Besides that, he could notice a beautiful red-haired woman who seemed to be waiting for something, another unknown hooded Apostle by the door, and... a disfigured man walking in? That would seem to be, his appearance being quite shocking in contrast with the hooded organization members. I wonder what happened to him? - he thought, but by his guide's great haste, he had no time to meet all these people, or even know more about this man who had just entered the castle - who, by the other Apostle's reaction was welcome there. Cursing the Tiphan mentally, he walked on through the gate. He halted if only for a second, remembering what Alpha, Victor and Jett had told him, about nefarious creatures that seemed to be undead... the Cursed Ones. Gulping silently, he moved on. Perhaps he was needed to solve a puzzle of some sort?

Of course, that proved quite untrue as he reached the bridge, a place dark - not exactly where a Hylian would feel at home - and somewhat frightening. he looked around him, and an overwhelming sight seemed to overthrow him - the magnificent view of the city was something he had never seen before - the ruins were huge, possibly with relics of old. The youth smirked at this prospect, forgetting somewhat of the other man's presence. This would be the perfect chance for him to know more about Hyrule's past! Maybe that why they needed his 'Intelligence'! Of course, that proved quite untrue as he started hearing some sounds around him, similar to a beastly hiss. Looking around him, three quite large beasts appeared from the shadows, and let's say the boy was not at all pleased by their looks. Mutated oversized spiders weren't exactly eye candy, now were they? As the decaying Skulltulas approached and the junior mage backed away in an unconscious reaction out of fear - undead were never his thing, zombies being the worst - the man started speaking, and the speech made the Hylian even more apprehensive. And then Tiphan vanished, leaving Tayro surrounded by the Oblivion creeps.

Hands shaking, legs barely obeying his command, and the creatures approaching - probably desiring to devour him whole, like spiders did to other insects - Tayro did the only thing possible, the only reaction he could muster. Namely, cast a spell. Holding his staff and - somewhat sloppily, it might be said - spinning his staff in a counter-clockwise fashion, both tips of the Deku Weapon lit up with an azure blue color, thus forming a circle by spinning. The first part of the glyph made, the boy stepped back, and, placing the tip of the staff on the top of the rune, started drawing an eight-pointed star inside the circle. Thus, the magical symbol was complete, and now he needed only charge the attack. Placing the tip of the Deku Staff exactly on the middle, he could feel his own internal magical essence pouring into the staff, which glowed ever-so-slightly, and then into the glyph, which glowed harder. As the magical lines reached their peak, the boy removed the staff from the rune, and then, placing his right foot back, swung his staff back and then slammed - not with any amount of grace, just a simple blow - the weapon into the circle, it immediately reacting and letting go a shockwave of energy. Although still frightened, the boy managed to yell out he needed words to activate the spell - fortunately for him. "Elemental Explosion!!" Was it by the impact, words or both was unknown, but the fact remained that the circle started to twist and turn, curving itself into a perfect sphere. The orb then quickly started filling up with massive amounts of energy, before being shot upwards into the high ceiling of the underground lair. After reaching a certain height, the spell imploded, and divided itself into three - the amount of enemies Tayro was facing - the now three magical energies raining down one on each foe. At this time, only one thought ran through the youth's mind. Let's hope there are no Re-deads...

The doorman watched as Arco extracted the broken pendant and twirled it about on its string, and he admired the mystical orange-brown material as it sparkled in the surreal lighting of the castle. The magically amplified and brightened torchlight danced off of the stone as it landed in Arco's hand, and with a dignified salute, Rais turned away from Trish and the bard to close the door, only stopping to glance at the two Apostles who passed by without so much as a “Hello.”

Trish nodded respectfully as Arco came to a stop just past the door, and seeing that he was quite comfortable where he was, the black-cloaked Calatian stepped closer to her charge. It had been a while since that fateful day in the Forest of Northern Hyrule. Trish knew Sloan's horrible assault on the innocent bard had dealt tragic burns, but never had she imagined Arco could be wounded to this condition. A few tears beaded around her soft green eyes and she shook her head sorrowfully. He voice held a pang of sympathy as she spoke. “Arco... you have the sincerest apologies of every single one of us here. We should have known Sloan would try to pull a move like that, and we failed to take action soon enough.” Blinking back the droplets that had formed in her eyes, she continued. “Please accept our humble thanks for... taking care of Sloan Connells. He was an evil man at heart, and deserved the retribution you served to him. I would also like to thank you for returning this stone to this realm. It makes me glad that you had the courage to actually seek us.”

With this remark she smiled and looked at the bard in all his bandaged form. “Your appearance must shock those who dwell on the surface of Hyrule. Sloan will rot in the ground for placing that curse of flames on you.” Her voice became serious for a moment. “But I asked you here for a reason aside from congratulations on surviving a sadist. It is with great pleasure that I invite you to join our ranks in this organization - Carock's Apostles. Tell me. What do you know of the sage of the Maze Island?”

<center>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ </center>

Tristan shook his head and clapped a heavy Goron hand on the sleepy bard's shoulder, fully intending to snap him into wakefulness. “I'll tell you Whazzuh, Victor. You should know by now what Myst has been going through for over the last half of his life, show some resp--.” Myst's scornful but aged words cut across the other leader's own rumbling, irritated voice.

“Tristan! I do not expect any of our good Apostles from after Mizer's inception to know what is wrong with me. Please, leave Victor be. When fatigue rears its ugly head, there are few methods by which one can ward off such a feeling.” The elderly Sheikah (who was only considered that in appearance and wisdom, as he was only just over half of his life expectancy) smiled warmly at the sleepy Hylian.

“Well, a good smack is a damn good method, I'd say,” grunted the Goron in retort, smiling back at his old friend.

A hearty chuckle escaped Myst's lips; there were few but Tristan who could make the ill Sheikah smile, let alone laugh. “I see your point. But we must discuss this at some other time. You three, make haste to the desert.”

As Mizer turned to face the direction of the lobby and urged Alpha and Victor to follow, Myst suddenly piped up again from where he stood. “Oh, Alpha, I need to speak with you for a moment,” he added as Mizer grabbed Victor by the hood and pulled him along.

<center>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ </center>

Tayro's explosion takes on the great form of the Earth, each of the three mini-Explosions (let's just call them Bursts, shall we?) rumbling violently as they smashed into their targets, the Skulltulas. Each spider was pounded into its own deep crater, and pushed back up as the cycle reversed and three colossal stalagmites bolted out of the ground and stabbed at the soft underbellies of the sick creatures. Of the three, the first was able to take half damage (18+2 [Roll+SPI]), the second took full damage despite almost escaping (17+2 [Roll+SPI], and the third was absolutely crushed [2+2 [Roll+SPI]). The damage dealt was eight, sixteen and sixteen, respectively.

But the spiders were not at the doors of death just yet (although somewhere in their wretched hearts they probably wished they were). The first, who was lucky enough to halve the damage inflicted on it, immediately pounced on the mage and sank its dirtied, needle-sharp fangs into his chest (18+8 [Roll+AGI]) and begins to drink deep from the boys reserves. The youth is sapped of a quarter of his total vitality.

The second Skulltula, equally peeved after the rocky beating it had taken, lunged at the boy and missed altogether! (6+8 [Roll+AGI]). This was fortunate for Tayro, who was likely feeling a bit off die to the absorption he had just endured. Perhaps the Skulltula was a tad discombobulated from the Earth Explosion, but it hissed angrily at its escaped prey nonetheless and retreated behind the third spider, which was already turning to flee...

Or so it appeared to be doing. In reality, however, it was simply turning to shoot a rocket of webbing into the face of the resilient teen. Fortunately for Tayro (again), the Earth attack appeared to have sent the spider into a frenzy, for it too was unable to aim properly (2+8 [Roll+AGI]) and wasted a great amount of its webbing. Quite unhappy, it doubled back and tried to hide behind its feral brothers should another Explosion demand sacrifice.

Tayro
HP: 40, SPL: 7

Oblivion Skulltula (1) - HP: 22/30
Oblivion Skulltula (2) - HP: 14/30
Oblivion Skulltula (3) - HP: 14/30, 20 SPL

Victor's body... shook. His insides seemed to be bouncing around inside him, and he felt that he might've sunken a few more feet into his chair. His ears were ringing and his head hurt somewhat, his butt was jarred by the sudden force put upon it. His very being seemed a bit disturbed, even.

But the loud, heavy Goron smack still could not wake Victor fully: he merely gazed up at the Goron with a half-confused, half-pained look on his face. As Myst defended his sleepiness he nodded dazedly, and when Tristan made a joke the Bard could barely manage a smile, meant earnestly but executed poorly.

With the speech over, Victor had been ready to sink back into his resting position, willing to disregard Myst's direct order for some simple sleep. But Mizer prevented this, pulling him out of his chair and dragging him along to their mission, however unwilling he might be. The Bard might have resisted but, tired as he was, he could only stumble behind the apostle weakly, murmuring pleads that only he could probably understand.

Alpha finds himself fidgeting somewhat as Mizer stops him short at the bottom of the stairs. 'Oh, good grief, Victor can catch up. Just because he's slow doesn't mean that I should be wasting time around here, right?' Seeing the Bard coming at last, half-asleep, he can only allow his shoulders to slump and a sigh to leave his lips as he heads towards the Hall with all the speed he can muster during this moment of annoyance.

Entering the lobby, he quickly spots the familiar face - or rather, the hair of . . . Trish, yes, that was the woman's name. Two more people appear to be coming close to her, but that is hardly the Sheikah's concern as he rushes after Mizer, finding himself alone in a room with Tristan and Myst. Even though most of his interactions have been with Maverick, he's still taken his limited amount of time here in the underground city to learn to recognize these men, two of the highest ranking members of the Apostles. Very interesting . . . this must be something even more important than Mizer's initial rush to find the two of them had suggested.

And probably more important than Myst lets on. Ignoring the words passed between Victor and Tristan - if Victor's groaning could indeed be called 'words' - the Sheikah considers this. An intrusion by 'unruly visitors' - that was their assignment? More than likely much is being left unsaid, to be explained once they reach Helena. He turns to depart alongside Mizer and Victor when Myst's words reach him, almost as if they were an afterthought: "Oh, Alpha, I need to speak with you for a moment."

Returning his focus to the man he hardly has even seen, much less spoken with one-on-one, he nods respectfully and gives a simple response: "Of course."

Arco's eyes remain flat and unfeeling... no, unthinking, as Trish steps towards him. Something in his head, just past the eyes and part of the wiring around his brain, takes in his atmosphere more fully... the room, the other man busy with closing the doors... then, back to Trish. He stares at--into?--her eyes, not moving, not until he sees that...

Oh, no.

His mouth opens, shaping a vowel of solace, saying so many things, none of which are actually vocalized, things like, things like...

No. Oh, no... don't apologize. It was for the better. My better. I'm stronger, wiser, now. That's nothing to tear for.

And as if to prove this thought of his, he let his eyes say it all for him, and they did: for just the briefest moment, so that only Trish Gorman would have been able to catch it (if even her), his eyes swam to a deeper gray, even greenish color. And then he lifted a hand that he didn't so much place on her shoulder as he left it hanging in mid-air, for nearly the same effect. And completing the ensemble, he nodded, as she finishes her speech. What else could he possibly say, but...

Sure.

And then as he continued to listen to her considerations of his renewed existence and her offer to join the group, he waited... but not very long ("not very long" = circa five minutes. Ha ha). He waited, and ended up saying that exact same word.

"Sure." There really wasn't that much to deliberate. He came here, because he had no where to go, nothing else to do, and that fact hadn't changed; in fact, it intensified. This was where he was supposed to be. He'd embraced death at three thousand degrees, and that kind of changed things. It wasn't like his past had been amnesia'd away, but things were obviously different now. There were new things to figure out, before old things could be returned to. Now, he wasn't sure about the dress code, but, still. Sure. He turned the name around in his mind--"Carock's Apostles." In sounded fair. But to answer her question...

"I know nothing of whom you speak."

Which stands to reason, since the Goron-turned-Sheikah spent most of his life underground way in the southwest, and the rest of it running around accomplishing nothing much in the clearer air above. The adventuring trade is not terribly academic.

Trish was unaware of Arco's inner contract to his existence; Sloan had taken all that was his old life, and had replaced it with new virtues, insights and maturity, and it was these qualities that had brought the bard to the threshold of Carock's Apostles. The scarlet-haired Calatian would probably be discomforted by yet another new joiner who was impartial to the cloak-and-hood ensemble. The last generation of recruits had all been the same; she still recalled with a laugh the instance of Kessler's inception, in which he had actually pouted upon being ordered to don such an austere uniform.

Somehow, Trish was not surprised that Arco knew nothing of Carock, and therefore little of the adventures of Link, the Hero. She smiled sweetly and indulged her minstrel charge on the story. “Well, as I said, Carock was a revered sage of Hyrule's no-man's land, the Eastern Continent. He was struck down by the Hero, Link, despite being a loyal advisor of the King's. The important part of the story is thus; Carock appeared to the six leaders of our organization and brought with him news of omens, conflict, treachery, and in the end, chaos. He guided the six in the direction of order, as a means of preventing the catastrophe that he spoke of, but he vanished shortly after the founding of this alliance, and since that time he has not been seen. He left with us a promise that he would return when our tasks were complete. And we need the help of many to accomplish that.”

This was Trish's favorite part, and she grinned as she spoke her next sentence. “So, Arco, I cordially welcome you to help us save the world!” With that, she clapped her gloved hands together. “You've had a hard time, Arco. I'll let you spend some time exploring, and meeting some of your fellow Apostles. Just try to be careful; there are many dangers to this realm, so I would advise against going outside of the castle without the entire set of cloak, boots and gloves.”

<center>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ </center>

Mizer groaned as he heard Myst call Alpha back. That meant one less able-bodied fighter should a conflict arise at the desert coast. Which meant that there was only one able-bodied fighter. Victor was in no real condition to leap into battle, so the thief hoped that it wouldn't come to that. It wasn't fun to drag the tired bard along, and he made a good point of this by pulling extra hard every few seconds.

Outside of the Gathering Hall, Mizer took note of Trish and the stranger, muttering something to Victor about yet another Apostle. All of the newcomers made him feel like a senior Apostle, when really he was new himself, in comparison to original members like Trish, Orias and Derix. “That must be the guy they were talking about the other day. I'm not sure of anything just yet, but I think I overheard Darizan saying his name was Arco, or something like that.”

Shrugging, and doubting that the bard - who was practically being half-carried by this point - had even taken note of his outwardly expressed comments. The Somarian was all too familiar with the drowsy and careless antics of sleepy people; Mizer was privy to that mood quite often. “Let's go,” he whispered, tugging on Victor's arm as he bolted down the short steps attaching the Gathering Hall doors to the lobby. He crept silently and respectfully past Trish and Arco, trying not to disrupt the meeting. He'd have to have quite an exceptional excuse to intervene with the two.

<center>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ </center>

Myst nodded to Tristan, and the Goron immediately knew what was happening. Nodding back respectfully, the man who was abnormally short for his species made a fake bow with a smile and and proceeded to the large white doors. As he passed Alpha he clasped a sturdy hand on the mage's shoulder, but in a more reassuring way than the wakeup call he had given Victor only moments ago.

“Have fun,” he whispered with a wink, just loud enough for Myst to hear. The Sheikah shook his head and brought a cloaked arm to his chest. “Oh, away with you, Tristan Berrak,” he spoke maliciously, but with a soft tone of playfulness. A marble-sized ball of fire appeared at his finger tip and whizzed by Alpha to strike the departing Goron smartly on the cranium.

“I'll remember that, Wolfeye!” shouted Tristan as he booted open the large door with a loud guffaw and disappeared, rubbing the light burn on the back of his head as smoke was rising from it. When Myst was sure he was not coming back, he looked at his query, the mysterious Sheikah known as Alpha. His diseased face wrinkled as he gave his fellow shadow folk a curt smile, and then he began to walk towards the doors himself. “Follow me, Varaudo,” he spoke quietly as he brushed past. “It is time for you to receive my 'gift.'”

If one could express happiness while being petrified out of fear, then Tayro would have grinned quite a bit after seeing the devastating effects his Elemental Explosion had on the twisted creatures that stood before him. Although scared out of physical control - though not mental sanity - he stood there, watching carefully every effect of his Earth spell, stepping back carefully as a reflection as the bridge flooring cracked ever so slightly, as the earthern gravity came as pressure that inverted up, like the revibrating echo one could make by yelling in such a dark and desolate place like this - though in such a creepy Cursed Ones-infected place, who would want to yell out? Only if one was to attract their own demise at the death-beckoning claws of those undead creatures. He faltered a bit to see it had not effected one of the spiders - if they could still be called that - fully, yet, to his fortune, the other two had suffered the full blow as the stalagmite emerged from the bridge, making their blood - probably black and poisoned, though the youth did not even dare look to make certain - spurt out from their mutated living corpses, yet not even one did fall to the excellency - he dared think - of his Elemental Explosion. Problem was... he wouldn't be able to perform such a nifty trick once again.

And that's when it all got worse. The spider that got off rather fine in comparison with the others of her kin decided it was time to show her potential, and thus approached the youth, he not being able of even spurt any movement from his muscles as he was bitten and his own blood being sucked - at least that's what he felt - by the arachnid. The pain was not light and he tried to smack the beast with his own Deku Weapon, failing miserably at that regard, ending only in hitting his own chest making it even more painful than at the beginning. At least, this impact did have some good effects - namely, making the youth wake up from his own paralyzed state as in order to strike out his opponents. I know I can take these creeps out! - he reassured himself, as he prepared a spell of his own, once again. And the last he'd ever make during this fight. Definitely should have gotten some SPL restorative potions at the castle - they probably had some. - he remarked inwardly, noticing just in time a movement from the second in the Skulltula ranks... and yet didn't even have to make a movement. Possibly due to disorientation, the spider had failed the target - namely himself - by a large margin, and soon did the third spider make the same mistake.

And thus, he was ready to strike once more. The usual procedures were given into effect as the youth started spinning his own staff counter-clockwise, the usual blue circumference starting to glow in the darkness - a useful tool to see his opponents better, but with its own dark side of the matter - as it could act as a beacon for more Cursed beings to appear. Then, stepping back once as the Oblivion beings were scurrying, using the point of the staff as a pencil, the youth 'drew' a five-pointed star, and those that hanged around with the mage apprentice would now know what he was plotting. Placing his weapon in the middle of the circle as to finish the preparations, he once again channelled the last remains of his magical essence - remaining with something so little - a little speck, one might say - inside himself after it was concluded. Spinning his staff clockwise, as to gain speed, he announced to the foes his intentions - not that they'd understand, but... "Elemental Burst! Light!" - he yelled out, spinning his own body for 360 degrees, hitting the glyph with the most strength possible, it immediately reacting and twisting to create a sphere out of lines, which staretd to fill up with white, pure, cristalline energy that was shot out towards the second arachnid, supposedly to embrace it in welcoming arms as to relieve it from this dreaded curse. Hopefully.

Victor let himself be dragged by Mizer. It was a sweet deal, really. He didn't have to open his eyes or move his legs, and he knew where he was going. Being carried would've been nice, but it didn't look like that would be the case today. So the Bard settled for being dragged. Either way was rather nice.

At the mention of Arco, though, Victor stirred. Could it be his fellow Bard had joined the Apostles? He struggled to open his eyelids, something so few people have to do, and he congratulated himself for having such strength when his lids managed to open halfway. The blurred, hazy form of what looked like a person appeared before him, and Victor decided just to assume it was Arco; it was his name, after all. Not many people with the name Arco around, are there now?

And so, the sleepier of the two Bards made an enormously selfless attempt to greet his fellow musician, considering his state. He stuck out a wavering arm in a sort of wave-type action and grunted, loudly, enough for Arco or whoever it was to clearly hear him. And that was it, he just let himself be dragged after that, his arm still out in case Arco might want to follow and needed some way to identify the group with a young Hylian being dragged by the hood a bit easier...

Alpha chuckles at the interaction between Myst and Tristan, mentally studying the pair as he attempts to gather a better and more accurate impression about both of these highest-ranking members of Carock's Apostles. Having never been in the presence of either one, he hopes to begin to understand their personalities and be better able to relate with these higher-ups. His eyes grow dim as he begins to think of his reasoning for such a desire.

It isn't exactly surprising to him that the desire stems from his fear. Maverick has already said that he's aware of the Sheikah's past as the assassin Wraith . . . but that he lacks most knowledge about that time period in Alpha's life. It's good to hear that the Criminal Underground which he had once held such a prominent position in still maintains strict secrecy, but still . . . eventually, word will get out. Eventually, someone will talk. And as well informed as the Apostles are, once one person knows, they will know, and then . . .

. . . and then hopefully his being companions of - or perhaps even friends with - the Apostle's bosses will be enough for them to decide to not hunt him down. He'd hate to have to kill people with such an honorable and praise-worthy mission.

And then Myst is brushing past him, jarring him from his thoughts as the other Sheikah speaks. "Follow me, Varaudo. It is time for you to receive my 'gift.'" That raises an eyebrow. 'Myst's gift . . . so, at last it is time.' He's already seen one common use of the Gift multiple times - the warping abilities that the other Apostles are so fond of. Hopefully he can use this to replace his travel through the cursed Void, where even one's soul can be ripped apart by the strange properties of the dimension's laws of physics. Alpha thinks for a moment; Victor has received the gift, but hasn't exactly spoken at any great length about it, and Alpha has never pressed the issue. But it is likely that there are further uses for the power beyond simply traveling from place to place.

"Very well," he responds simply, falling into step behind Wolfeye. Whatever the case, this will certainly be an interesting experience.

Myst walked slowly through the large white doors of the Gathering Hall. He appeared to be limping. Given his condition, it would seem that his right leg was not as useful as it should have been. As he pressed onward into the castle lobby, he suddenly gave a muffled, quiet yelp and fell forward. His left knee struck the cold marble floor and he knelt down, breathing heavier than normal. He shook his head and heaved himself to both feet, turning towards Alpha.

“Were I thirty years older, this would not seem so wrong.”

He turned his back on his fellow Sheikah and reached his gloved right arm outward. A hazy black and green mist shrouded his hand, and began to take shape. The haze cleared, and the Apostle now held in his grasp an archaic cane that seemed to be of a much higher quality than Hyrule’s Deku craftsmanship. Myst’s pace quickened and his limp seemed to be less of an issue.

“That’s better. Shall we?”

The Sheikah lead his charge up the long, winding flight of stairs. As they neared the sixteenth floor, he gestured to the entrance to the main hall of the sixteenth level. Directly ahead, Alpha’s dormitory door could be seen. Myst stopped for a moment.

“Your friend Tayro is up and about somewhere. I can feel that his presence is elsewhere than this floor. Alpha, I would recommend you find him and see to his safety in a moment. There is no telling what troubles a young boy who knows nothing of this place could find himself in.”

Myst continued the long ascent, climbing two more floors to the eighteenth. It was here that he gave a sigh of relief and rubbed his aching joints. Stepping out of the tall stairwell, the pair arrived at the adjoining chamber of the eighteenth floor. Like the floors beneath this one, all that could be found here were three doors, each with an ornate golden nameplate above the openings. Waking towards the door on the right, the Sheikah’s cane suddenly vanished in the same austere haze it had materialized from. His hand now free, Myst reached into his cloak and extracted a long, thin key. It looked old and ready to crumble in his grip – a relic of the ancient times.

It seemed that the Apostles had not bothered to have the locks changed since moving in.

He opened the door and stepped in, gesturing for Alpha to follow. Inside the dormitory there could be seen a simple bed and a few chairs, as well as a table and an adjoining room leading to the device which enabled the Apostles to bathe with ease. On the wall there hung various snippets of articles, images, pictographs, and a variety of odd documents. It was not as busy a wall as that of Fassix, the bloodshot scribe whom Alpha was sure to remember meeting. However, Myst was clearly researching something in great depth. It would be best not to snoop.

The center of attention here was, in fact, the center of the room. A sturdy granite pedestal stood roughly four feet off the ground, surrounded by a circular brown carpet. Sitting atop this pedestal was a quaint grey orb. There was nothing to it. It was no intricate artifact. It was a grey ball. It was, for some irrelevant reason, floating an inch or two off the pedestal (which would render the stand redundant to the casual observer), but it was still a sight to behold. For all its simplicity, it looked surreally smooth and light.

“Touch the sphere, Alpha. I cannot describe what you will see. It is different for all who are graced by this gift. As a Sheikah, you need not worry yourself.”

There was silence then.

<center>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ </center>

A disgusted hiss came from the Oblivion Skulltulas as they all scurried away from Tayro, trying with all their might to escape the light. Creatures that dwell in the dark are more susceptible to the light, and it appears that this particular breed of Skulltula has not quite evolved far enough to discard the use of a standard pair of eyes. The light blinded each of them down to their shadowy designs. One spider was unfortunate enough to be struck by the burst (5+2 [Roll+SPI]), having spent more effort trying to hide than to actually resist the light. It took full damage, a massive sixteen. If the Skulltulas were intelligent in any way, Tayro’s threat was now well known. The monster’s eight legs curled in towards its body, and it suddenly began to turn a very dry shade of grey, before it appeared to become an object of stone. It suddenly burst into a shroud of black and green mist and was lost in the cavern’s large airspace. The effect of the light had dazed the other two feral beasts. They did not move to strike Tayro, simply scurrying about in a blind madness.

<center>Tayro Wind
HP: 40, SPL: 1 </center>

Oblivion Skulltula (1) - HP: 22/30
Oblivion Skulltula (2) – [Deceased]
Oblivion Skulltula (3) - HP: 14/30, 20 SPL

It's just as he had foreseen. As creatures of the dark, the arachnid undeads before him were not used to the light other more... living being were used to deal with at a nearly-daily basis. As they scurried around madly, the youth could only express a slight grin - his disgust of having to deal with such horrendous decaying beasts still present to the fact that it was affecting his movement. As annoying as it may be, or as good as some theorists may defend it is, fear did restrain Tayro's options quite a bit. And even if the Hylian was glad for one of those creeps had been relieved of an eternity of half-life, the hiss the beast did as it curled up and withered away in a cloud of smoke was... exceptionally dreadful. Although the young mage had never dealt with one of them any time before, he pondered if that screeching sound was anywhere similar to the sound produced by a ReDead, one said to freeze people out of fear. He hoped so, for something more terrifying and vomit-inducing than this was hard to imagine. So, praising his quick thinking for a split second, the boy grabbed on tight to his staff, finding it hard to get a good grip on it as his hands continued to shake. But he had to continue the battle. The other two spiders would quickly regain their senses, so he had to act fast, else he'd be zombie food. And that was what drove him to continue struggling, even if the odds were against him.

And quite against him, they were. While weakened, he had two spiders to fight against, and this last display of magic had weakened his magic reserves so much that the boy wasn't sure if he could repeat such a feat again. No. He was certain he didn't have enough power left to repeat the same spell again. So, as the Skulltulas moved around in a blind daze, the teenager analyzed his options. Watching the creatures dash around madly, he quickly came to the conclusion that trying to hit them with his staff would probably prove unsuccessful, seeing his movement was too sluggish out of his discomfort and the Cursed Ones were just too fast for the youth to actually catch up to them and deal a decent blow ((OoC: It's true! Even with a perfect roll Tayro can't hit them physically! XD)). He had no magical reserves left to cast a decent spell, so taking the beasts out by magic, his expertize, was apparently out of the question. Fleeing back to the castle also seemed unlikely - as after the display of hospitality he was given by this 'Tiphan', he wasn't sure if he could trust those robed individuals after all. Seeing the youth had every intention to keep living, then that left him one sole option. With a nod of his head, the boy stepped back twice as the arachnids seemed to regain their senses (the Hylian didn't look carefully enough, so he could be wrong in that aspect), and, his staff fimly in his hands, did what one would least expect for him to do in that situation.

...He dashed forward.

It was no fancy running, his legs shivering and threatening to fail to compel the orders the Mage had given them, but, by sheer will and maybe some luck from the Goddesses above, he kept going right towards the arachnid closest to him. For one who didn't know the boy, one would deem him completely insane - he himself had already concluded that a physical blow would be inefficient, so trying to ram one of the spiders would be foolish and just running to your death. However, for one who actually know Tayro, by the the glitter in the teenager's eyes and the mischievous grin present in the corner of his lips one could conclude that the Hylian was up to something. And indeed he was. And in a few moments, just before it would seem that the kid and the undead would collide, the teenager's left foot bended forward, his knees flexing and propelling himself up in a jump. If the Cursed Ones had any intelligence, they'd know what was going on, but as that was not the case ((OoC: What with their INT stat being 0)), the arachnid nearest to Tayro stood perfectly still, allowing the youth's right foot to collide exactly... on its skeletal carapace (from where its name came from). He bent his right foot in a similar fashion, and now it was obvious what the agile mage was up to: he was gonna leap over the spiders and run away. No point in fighting an enemy you can't defeat.

But he failed to take into account the fact that the spiders weren't Skulltulas, but Oblivion Skulltulas. As such, as soon as the boy started exerting more pressure to jump, the creature's exoskeleton was soon broken in pieces, making the boy's foot fall into some squishy, musky matter that made eerie sounds as Tayro stepped on it. It's true that he felt sick and had a need to vomit, yet he managed to resist, telling himself that he'll pour out all he ate before as soon as he got out of the situation. By some weird unconscious control, it worked, and the boy repeated a leap from the beast's back, propelling himself forward, and away from the spiders that were now behind him. Problem came when he started running again. As he placed his right foot on the ground, a sharp pain jolted upwards. Damn it... what a time to twist my ankle... - he remarked mentally. Still, he had to hurry before the undead creatures behind him actually understood what happened, so he made a dash forward, the pain being nearly unbearable. But he kept on into the misty area beyond, probably heading towards one of the underground city's forgotten districts. But in his blind dash, he didn't care - he just had to get away from those spiders to a place he could rest for a while. Yes, apparently fear did have its uses.