Saber nearly jumped out of his skin as Vic spoke, caught off guard as he was. He hadn't heard the man speak much, and wasn't expecting much conversation when Vic was with a complete stranger. The words were...somewhat...reassuring. It's true that any enemies would have to go through the large group above to get to the smaller group. Yet, the first guards they had fought were tremendously powerful. Or maybe that was only to the nomad--indeed, the others seemed to have fared much better in the battle than he.

And then they were on the bottom flloor, and wow what a number they did on this place. Hard to believe the battle was that ferocious, and I didn't land so much as a single hit. In fact, I barely survived. This was the first time he had really surveyed all the bodies--he had been so distracted with catching up with the others before. Now, however, it was his JOB to look at them, and...well, mercenary work was definitely more favorable.

His eyes were caught by the black puddle, and couldn't break free. A thought struck him. Fate...would be so cruel, wouldn't it? Well, nothing for it I suppose...

Stepping towards the puddle, he shuddered, then plunged both hands into it, trying to think of happier things as he sloshed through the guard's remain for some sort of key.

Victor was glad that Mavs agreed that he was great. And he thought the Bard was great too? That's great.

He released their leader from his hug and turned his attention to Rais. Raisy. Raistastic. Raisamundo. The Bard couldn't see any fingers, but... oh, he was drunk, wasn't he? Yeah, probably. Yay! Oh, but that was probably why he couldn't see any fingers. He decided he should play it cool, and guess.

"Uhh... 'leven?"

Victor nodded. Yes, definitely eleven. Good job, old Bard. Another bullet dodged. Now he... oh! Who was that? What... why... what... she was so tiny! What... how was that...?

The Hylian wobbled over to Eyra and crouched to her level.

"Look... look at you! You're so small! How... how did you get to be so small? I want to be that small! I could... do small things!"

Without a second thought, Victor grabbed hold of the underside of Eyra's arms - hooking the hand grasping the bottle so as to get a grip without letting go of his liquid friend - and lifted her up, twirling with a smile and a "Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...."

OOC: It's fun to be unproductive!

Kuro turned away as the man at the desk threw up all over the Bard's feet, and Kuro stopped watching for a while from that point. A minute or two later, though, he slowly uncovered his eyes to see the drunken Bard walk over to Maverick and hug him, telling him how great a man he was, and then lifted the shortest Apostle off the ground.

Kuro took a few steps back, stepping slowly so that he wouldn't get noticed by the bard and become a part of his crazy antics as two Apostles had already fallen victim to. Kuro had been around drunk people before and usually sprinted away in a manner that seemed even slightly necessary for him to be doing. Unfortunately, he had no other business to take care of and he couldn't really run anywhere.

Kuro could only hope that Saber and Vic could find the key and return soon.

Saber was most assuredly correct in judging the cruelty of fate. As his hands dipped into the dark puddle of what had once been a tower guard, a cold, stinging sensation overcame his hands. A thin, black mist began to appear on the surface of the liquid.

A sickly smell drifted on the mist.

"Hey!" came a hasty bark from Vic's direction. In a moment, the cloaked man was behind the mercenary, his gloved hands pressed firmly on the youth's shoulders. Quickly, he pulled his charge away from the terrible stuff.

"Keep your hands out of that!" he shouted frantically, getting down on one knee beside the boy and grabbing him by the wrist.

Saber's hands were black as night. A few drops of the dark liquid fell to the ground and splashed on the cool, marble floor at his side. Whatever he had submerged his hands into, it wasn't coming off. At the moment, Saber's hands appeared to be stained a very dark shade of black. They would continue to feel a frosty, intense burn for several minutes before the sensation would subside.

"If his armor turned to liquid, would it not be alright to assume that a key on his person would, too?" questioned Vic with a sarcastic tone. He looked at the boy's hand and then let his wrist go, standing and lifting the unfortunate mercenary up with him.

A floor above, Victor had made a horrible error of judgment of his own. Eyra, being a mystical sort of person, was never fond of personal contact. Then here was this drunken fool of a bard swinging her around like some sort of ragdoll. She was airborne, but not for long. Grabbing the bottle out of Victor's hand, she proceeded to dump its contents over his head. She gave his hand a mighty pinch and leaped to the ground, landing gracefully.

This was not his only punishment, however. The others began to laugh as the scene unfolded. Turning on the bard, Eyra gave his shins a mighty kick with her hard black boots, and before he could react in any way he was soon drenched again. The halfling let out a wicked tidal wave of an elemental burst that quickly sent Victor flying back in a pool of misfortune. He landed with a dull thud, his bottle breaking all around him and his clothing heavy with water.

She was about to continue her tirade of rage when Roth put a hand on her shoulder. "That'll do," he said calmly. She nodded and folded her arms, staring at the wretched drunk. Not of a cruel sort, her arm was soon outstretched and the mentally impaired Hylian was soon on his feet.

The sleeping man at the desk gave a hiccup, made a choking noise and was then silent.

Saber would have screamed, but he was in far too much shock for even that. All he knew was that it felt worse than any magic that had been tossed at him, even worse than what Alpha had done to him in the tournament, constantly beating him down with Shadow Blast after Shadow Blast. It took several seconds, with Vic's reprimandations, before he really, truly realized what happened, and a sound escaped the mercenary--that weak, strained whine that comes forth when you want to scream but can't find the breath.

Still, more horrific than his suddenly blackened hand was Vic's explanation of where the sludge had come from. "...that...was a melted guard? Armor and all? Who...who could do that?" Staring at his limb, shock began to overcome the nomad again. "I...didn't see much of the battle...sorry...leave me, I'll be alright, just find the key." Jerked to his feet, he stumbled off in a random direction, his body's strength sapped by the pain he wouldn't feel until later. He fell to his knees by another body--this one the final guard which Vic had slain with a vicious thrust. Without a word, he ran his good hand over the body, digging into every crevice he could think of. And not in that way, you dirty dirty man.

OOC:

...

God dammit, now Saber has a cliche mark

"Might have known you missed that little horrorshow earlier," jabbed Vic, clearly not ready to leave the boy alone. "You could use some combat training. Not even the bard got his arse handed to him as badly as you did."

He moved silently to one of the beheaded guards, running his hands over the armor for some kind of release. He searched the tunic underneath and found nothing save for a few Rupees, which he threw at Sabertache, having no need for them himself.

"That kid that decided to tag along with us did that to him," he said, bringing up the incident yet again. "Strange for something so chilling to come from one so innocent looking. There's more to that slop than meets the eye, that's for damn sure." He shook his head in annoyance. I don't need to be talking to this brat.

Saber's search found nothing. There were two guards that remained unchecked. It was beginning to look unlikely that these guards held the key that they sought.

Sabertache had nothing to reply with; what Vic said was true, and he couldn't deny it. He had been as useful in the fight as a new pair of shoes on a paraplegic. He stuffed away the rupees absentmindedly, almost as if it were routine. Of course, if it were routine, he wouldn't be living in such a dismal shack.

That kid...what, Kuro? He's not even a magic-user...is he?

Gritting his teeth, the Nomad regretted once again his subpar ability in the magical field. Magic had been a cruel mistress to the man, and now it was apparently a faithful servant to others of his kind as well. He really ought to spend some time with Burlo--no, no, some other magician--and work on his spellcasting.

Still unable to find words that would serve any sort of purpose, he moved silently to another body, frisking the corpse with his healthy hand and trying to forget about everything but the task at hand for a while.

Sabertache's search of the remaining guard yielded nothing; his blackened hands were unable to find anything of use in the fallen soldier's armour and underclothing. Vic casually searched the final slain guard, standing with a sigh and turning the body over with his foot so that he would not have to gaze into the lifeless eyes. The room was silent, and the Apostle grudgingly spoke to the boy who had been told to follow him.

"It's not here; what a waste of my time. The others have probably already moved on without us." He stomped towards the life at the end of the room, turning to Saber as he got on, and calling to him. "Are you coming up, or is it home time? I'm not going to hold this thing for much longer."

Meanwhile, Victor's misfortune seemed to be at an end, and the others hoped that the effects of whatever he had downed would wear off soon. He would probably not even remember the abuse he had taken from Eyra, necessary as she deemed it to be. There was not much sign of anything to help them progress. It was then that Rais piped up. He had not done much, save for letting the Apostles and Saber in and alerting the guards with his loud mouth.

"Why don't we get mister Roth to hold that guy in an armlock? then we can find out where the key is!" Before anyone could object, the boy quickly voiced an amendment to his plan. "And then knock him back out again!"

Maverick looked slightly amused. He was unused to hearing Rais make such suggestions, but it was a good idea, and he did not know why no one present had thought of it before. "Well, it's better than standing around waiting. Roth, would you mind?"

The massive grunt nodded his approval and gave Rais a hearty pat on the back for his thoughts. The boy was usually too timid to mention his ideas, despite his hidden intellect. Roth walked around behind the sleeping man and slid his arms between the other's. He pulled up, and held the drunk slightly above the floor. The man came awake in a snap, looking around and preparing to scream. He thought better of it; the big cloaked guy had a firm grip that could likely be tighter if it needed to be.

Cold sobriety was something that was creeping over the suited man, and he groaned and spat up a bit before asking what was going on.

"Hey! Let me down! What's going on here!"

Rais was excited that his idea was being tried. "Ooh, can I ask him, can I?" Maverick nodded. "Sweet!" The hooded youth walked up and prodded the man's belly with his index finger. "We're just looking for something, have you seen a key around here? You know... the one that fits into that lock over there?" He pointed with his finger to the locked glass door opposite where the group had entered.

The man squirmed indignantly. "Don't ask me! I just book appointments for the big wigs up there!" he tried to reason. Rais was not impressed.

"Well too bad. Either tell us where the key is or my friend here will make things interesting. For us, anyway. Come on now, before things get difficult. For you, anyway."

Still the man held his tongue. Rais nodded to Roth, who smiled beneath his hood.

Roth began to tickle the armlocked bureaucrat! The poor fellow wriggled and squirmed in mirth and laughed unrelentingly, screaming for the brute to stop. Rais had not expected that, but he smiled as well. Roth always knew best. After a few moments, he knew he was beat and agreed to tell them the whereabouts of the key.

"They told me to hide it good in case people like you came looking for their prisoner. There's not much in the way of hiding places in this room, and I don't have the time to set up daft puzzles for people like you!" He apologized for the remark as the tickling began again, before belching. "OK! OK! I ate it! There, isn't that clever? You'd never think to look in a man's stomach! Good luck getting it out of me, eith- urk!"

Rais had landed a punch directly to the whelp's gut, and a terrible groaning was heard. All present looked away as a splash sounded from the ground. Maverick knelt to pick up the grimy object - a key indeed. The mage maintained a disgusted look as he went over to unlock the door. "Hey! I didn't say you could do that!" came the gruff call from the disgruntled desk jockey. "Guards! Guar-!!!"

Roth had placed a gloved hand over his mouth. "Eyra, don't you usually carry a serving of Deku Potion on you?" The Kokiri maid nodded, taking a bottle of thick brown liquid from the inside of her cloak.

"Usually. Here ya go!" she said cheerfully as she handed it to a taller person, Rais. The boy uncorked the bottle and smelled it. "Yuck!" he exclaimed. "Never did like the smell of Deku Nuts. This is like gross syrupy Deku Nut stew!"

Eyra laughed at his comment. "It pretty well is. It's actually called Deku Poison. Won't hurt him. I just call it poison because it's not something I'd ever drink myself!"

Rais held it away from his nose as Roth held the bureaucrat's mouth wide open. He tried to argue, but it was no use. "Now sir," Rais lectured, pointing to the picture of his family. "We're not going to kill you, for their sake," he lied - they would not have killed him anyway. "Just take your medicine. Oh, and try to lay off the booze, for their sake." Down down down the potion went, and the man was forced to swallow. In an instant his eyes widened and his body was still. Paralyzed, but temporarily.

"He'll have a rough morning," quipped Eyra. "Let's wait for the others before we move on. I hope we meet up with our other insider soon, wherever he's chosen to hide himself."

The party waited, not wanting to face whatever lay ahead without Saber and Vic.

Truth be told, even if the key were roasting a steak on the guard's dutifully waxed, Adonis-like chest, Saber still would have seen nothing but his own dark hands sifting through his foe's corpse. The search was fruitless, and he nearly burst into tears as Vic pointed out such a fact. That entire experience had been for nothing?

"I'm not going to hold this thing for much longer."

No further provocation was needed; the thought of being left in this forsaken battlesite with the pool of sludge was unbearable. His young eyes drifted over to the black mass, absorbing the chilling sight. The feeling coursed through his veins again, and he found himself once again realizing just how naive and powerless he still was. He couldn't tear his vision from the guard's remnants, like a massacre. To break the magnetic pull he had to shake his head violently before breaking into an unsteady sprint. He was shivering as he leapt onto the lift, his knees barely supporting his weight.

The lift shot up and Saber was soon a level above the scene of his misfortune. His stained hands were a cruel feature to his normally flesh-toned hands, but the cold stinging had at least worn off by this point. The floating platform reached the top of its ascent, stopping on the second floor of the tower. The glass door fell open and Vic walked through to see the mess his colleagues had made.

All over the room he could see traces of water, sick, and slops of brown syrup. The latter of these was found in droplets on the floor near where the suited man from before stood wide-eyed and bewildered, stuck in a petrified state of coma for however long the potion he had been given would last. Victor did not appear to be in any shape to do anything. The hooded man nodded to his cloaked brethren and prepared to continue. Judging from the scene his eyes were taking in, the others ahd been more successful.

He looked back to Victor. Well, somewhat successful.

Ready to leave this room behind, Maverick led his Apostles and their company through the glass door at the other end of the room and into another lift. This one was much the same as the other - Eyra immediately made her way to a similar podium and could be heard fiddling about with various magical gizmos and circuitry. A bolt erupted from the podium and nearly struck her across the face, but the halfling woman ducked quickly. The bolt left a sizable dent in the lift chamber's wall. She made a sigh of relief and continued.

Before long, she pulled a similar cube out of the box and tossed it to Roth yet again. He caught it without fumble, tucking it safely away. The purple glow was extinguished beneath the thick black garment. Back at the podium, Eyra fitted one of her own green talismans into the open slot, and only a moment later the group was ascending to the third floor.

Here was a room not unlike the one below. It was a wide open room, but it was lined with small desks surrounded by shoulder-high walls for personal privacy. None of these desks were occupied - each was clean and organized. It was an austere sort of environment. A glass door at the opposite end of the room was tinted green, but bore no lock and chains as the previous had. To the group's left was a row of storage lockers, none of which appeared to be locked.

Saber felt the warmth return to his body as the distance between him and the horrific slaughter increased. What was more frightening was that they were still so low down in the tower. Anything could happen, and there were no doubt countless guards left and on the alert. When they arrived at the next floor, he was struck by the...contrast. This scene, too, was horrific. But in it's own...Victor'd way. Asking questions didn't seem like a good option at the moment, with Vic still so close by, so the nomad lowered his head and followed them onto the next lift, remaining motionless all the way up.

Once again, the stark contrast between floors was a bit unnerving. Desks, everywhere? This seemed much less like an enemy fortress and much more like...well, an office. Not much threatening about that. An uncomfortable feeling crept into Saber's gut--well, it never really left. This entire escapade was uncomfortable--and he decided to search the area. Taking the solitude for granted was never a good idea in enemy territory--of course, Saber didn't know that, but he still wanted to search the place because it gave him the creeps. [Track]

Maverick stepped carefully around a desk and examined the tabletop, reading a few crumpled parchments he had taken the liberty of uncrumpling. He tossed the garbage into a basket at the desk's side and carried on. None of these tables had any sort of drawer, and it seemed a rather austere place for one to spend his days.

By now he assumed Saber and Victor had come to grasp the nature of their location. He did not want to speak aloud, because he feared bringing any unwanted attention to them. The mage glanced wearily at the lockers before deciding that speaking would not betray their location - no Calatian guard could fit into those small storage spaces.

"We need not worry ourselves too greatly, friends," he said coolly and confidently. "This tower is but a great, tall office building. The majority of people hanging around here are fully employed bureaucrats. This place also acts as an embassy of sorts. We are standing on safe-ground diplomatically immune to the kingship of Hyrule. Every person we meet here is like myself, a Calatian."

As if to eradicate the calm he had tried to create, the mage reassured the other Apostles and Saber that it was not a safe-ground for trespassers.

"Bureaucrats are not fighters, but they do know a thing or two about security, especially about financing and equipping their security systems." He looked Saber in the eyes - the others already knew this. "Those grunts from the lobby are the systems, and when the desk jockeys go home the soldiers multiply tenfold to guard Calatia's secrets. I've no doubt that when we break past that barrier over there we will be meeting a few more."

Saber's tracking revealed very little - the Calatian ambassadors could afford a tight security shift, and it appeared their well-financed custodial services had already been through. Vic, Roth, and Rais were searching deaktops and reading odd parchments, and Eyra stood staring into the green barrier blocking their path to the fourth floor. She could not wrap her head around it.

Maverick stepped closer to the lockers, eying them suspiciously. "Sabertache, would you help me look through some of these? None of them appear to be locked - I don't know how they cannot afford locks when they've got guards like the ones we've seen." His gloved fingers wrapped around the latch on the leftmost locker in the row, and he opened it slowly, apprehensively, half-expecting something to leap out and attack him.

I'll bet this locker feels really cold.

His blackened hand grasped the latch on the rightmost locker, and he shivered. Not because of the cold metal; because he couldn't tell whether or not it was a cold locker or not.

Have I actually lost my sensitivity, or is it just in my head? Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about it now.

Breathing deeply, he began to open the locker even slower than Maverick had; he was already on at least three edges, and the Calatian's caution did nothing to remedy that fact. Besides, he had the odd feeling that something even worse was going to happen to him at some point tonight.

Of course, there was nothing to ease nerves like good conversation. And what better conversation topic than national security?

"So, Calatia's secrets...they're guarding them? What...what would they be, exactly?"