Unfortunately, in some ways trying to stabilise Shuren's magical equilibrium is only treating the symptoms, not the actual condition. It does lessen his pain and prevent him getting caught in a feedback loop where the pain would make him blindly attack the pain with his magic, causing more pain. That would be a disaster. But still, there is no link. And without a link, Shuren will die. His grasp to reality is painfully thin and it will diminish to nothing if something is not done.

OOC: Ah, magical healing complications, where would we be without you?

OOC: can't think of anything else tihs might be, so here goes.
IC: Feeling the lessening of the pain, Ilgivan rushes back to the tent. He looks in, and sees that while Shuren appears to be getting better, his mind is curiously absent. He had been unable to notice this before because of all the pain, but now that he sees it, he knows he must act quickly.
He moves beside Shuren and holds onto his hand. Once he has done this, he closes his eyes, and takes a mental step forward. When he opens his eyes in the self-imposed dream, he finds himself at a river. The Skill River, where the minds and the personalities of the unprepared are washed away. He has never been here before, but he has an advantage that only one or two others that he knows of has had. He is bonded to a creature of great strength of spirit, and that spirit has entered this realm with him. While Alemeria flew over the river, trying to spot Shuren, Ilgivan ran alongside, picking up large vines and other things that could be used to retrieve Shuren.
OOC: Anyone looking at Ilgivan will think he has gone into some sort of trance. He does not respond to any stimuli, and if the hordes come now it will be impossible to wake him. Separating him from Shuren will only have the effect of making it harder for him to get back. Imagine running back to your house only to find that it has been moved.

OOC: Sorry guys for the lack of updates. My internet connection was suspended.

BiC:

Arthus was just about to return to his tent when Ilgivan's cries of mental torment pierced the air. With the pair of knights at his heels, Arthus rushed towards the source of the noise only to find Ilgivan stumbling into Shuren's medic tent. When he entered the tent, Arthus was taken aback by the sight before him. Ilgivan lay writhing on the ground, as if in a dream state, and Aeris kneeling in a meditative position next to Shuren's bedside. But what startled Arthus even more was the surge of energy flowing around Shuren's heavily injured body.

Instinctively, Arthus reached out with one hand to touch the energy surge around Shuren's body. Too late, did Arthus realize, that he had made a horrible mistake when the energy flow suddenly destabilized and blasted outwards towards him, throwing him backwards unto the ground.

The last thing that went through Arthus' mind before the darkness overtook him was whether his drastic action would cost the lives of his companions, and the elves who had remained behind. But he knew no more.

((Sorry I'm late, Meanwhile...))

Aeris knelt by the wounded Shuren's side. Seeing as draining his mana was not having the desired effect, she began applying linen bandages, soaked in silverleaf oils, hoping to staunch his bleeding. About this time, Ilgivan stumbled into the tent, and made some sort of connection to Shuren. Aeris, having not actually met Ilgivan in person before, was curious as to what the man was doing. After finishing wrapping Shuren's wounds, Aeris took a step back, and examined herself. She felt weak. Her head throbbed, but below the physical pains, something else stirred. Aeris removed her silvered mirror, and, making sure she was a significant distance from Shuren, gave a small chant and activated the mirror.

The result was horrible. Moments after reading her aura, the cleric could tell that the curse laid upon her had grown in it's power, but after a more detailed scan, it had overtaken more than half of her body with a fell, black non-glow, as if sucking the light from her spiritual manifestation. "I've been under a lot of stress lately... Shuren is wounded, and Wind is dead... Charcion is missing, presumed dead..." Aeris thought, "But Nezurahl's curse never left, slowly, malignantly, taking hold... By now, he can tell where I am, hear what I say, interrupt my spells, probably even... turn me again... Oh god." The thought hit her like an ogre's club. She glanced at the sapping decanter, and felt Shuren's aura fading. Panicing, she grabbed the bottle, tore out the makeshift leeching needle, and fled from the tent. She caught a glimpse of Arthas on the way out but couldn't stop. She was too much a danger to the camp now, and any delay might spell doom for them. They were too haggard to fight so many battles so quickly.

So, she ran. As fast as one could move under so much strain, slipping past the beleagured guards, and weary knights, and into the forests beyond. On the way out, she felt a detonation of magic from the tent, and cringing in despair, fell to her knees and cried.

((It's a subtle thing, yes. But you all know Necromancers love the Agonizing Demise spell.))

Shuren does have a very tenuous grip on reality. When he had sensed something interfere with his flow of power he'd seen it as an attack and reacted as if it was one. Almost too late he'd realised it was Arthus and managed to abort the majority of a killing blow by earthing the power through his own ravaged body. The pain was agonising but even then he isn't sure if it is enough. Despair begins to claim him as he senses another presence, but he doesn't care any more.

OOC: That would be your character Newb.

OOC: since this has to end some time...

IC: Ilgivan ran along the river, trying to find some sign of Shuren, unsure of exactly how he would appear. He knew that the bond he and Alemeria shared made them look more like each other here, but he didn't know whether a werewolf would show up as a wolf or a human, or even a combination.

As he ran, he noticed a limb of some sort break the surface, followed by a head. He threw the vine across the river in front of the being, and Alemeria made sure that it got all the way across and was stretched tightly enough to stay at the surface.

Now, he could only hope that Shuren would grab ahold of the makeshift rope, or at least get caught on it so that he could be rescued more easily. Wait, there was one thing he could do, it wouldn't do much, but it might be the difference. He shouted out to Shuren, hoping that he could hear.
"Grab hold, we're trying to save you!"

OOC: I am currently unconscious. So please do continue on without me. :)

OOC: Okay. Is it day or night? Night, I'd assume.

Aeris pulled herself together, more or less. She was a few miles into the forest from the camp by now, and it was late, and she had not had rest for... Aeris didn't quite remember when she last rested, but fatigue hinted it was more than a day since.

She had no food, and no mana left with which to cast spells. Leaning against a tree, the cleric wearily prayed, clutching her holy symbol and begging for a miracle. They'd need one to get out of this mess. During her prayer, Aeris felt her exhaustion take over her, and she quickly fell asleep.

It must have been a few minutes, what seemed to Aeris an instant, before she woke up to a strange feeling. She had not been awakened by noise, or touch, but rather... A presence. A familiar one.

An evil one.

"No! It can't be! I killed you, You're dead!" Aeris whispered...

((Meh, evil side needs more punch to it. NPC's are great and all, but they're not the same as good old fashioned evilness. Arhra, feel free to have Nezurahl confront exhausted Aeris as only a dead Necromancer could.))

OOC: We do probably need more posts about the Fifth Horseman. He's not doing nearly enough looming. Nezurahl does seem to be making up for it though. He's looming everywhere it seems.

The prescence seems to be horribly aware of Aeris and she feels exposed before its unseen gaze. It shapes shadows and a wavering outline of the necromancer lord appears. "That is true," it replies, its words a whisper on the breeze, "Death is but a doorway. You slew my physical form but my will endures. My soul is safe in impenetrable crystal, something I freely admit to you for it will aid you not. Very soon I will have physical form once more." Nezurahl pauses for a moment, thinking carefully about the situation, before continuing, "See how the once proud knights now fall into despair. To think such pitiful creatures as you seek the Celestial Judgements..." They were being tempered by calamity, but too much and they would break. At the battle in the forest, when they had faced spectres and the Ebon Guard, he had already tested Arthus' mettle. Now was the time for his work to continue. "Already one of your number has been lost." Destiny was not so easily deterred though. Indeed, Nezurahl was relying on this. "All of you stand upon the brink of utter destruction. What have you to say to that Aeris?" Nezurahl watches Aeris with a strange intensity in his gaze as he waits to see what her reply is.

* * *

"Grab hold, we're trying to save you!"... Words, meaningless words. Those are all that Shuren hears. "What value did his life hold?", he murmurs, he had already done far too much harm. His life was meaningless, no, less than meaningless. They would be better off without him. There was no purpose for him to cling to - the last purpose he had failed. At least he had delivered Aeris to safety but Wind had been lost and now, Arthus. Darkness slowly begins to enfold him and Shuren does not resist. This is his fate. "I want to die," he says softly to the darkness.

OOC: Ah, Nezurahl's aims are as shadowy as ever. I do believe that's the first time he's ever called ayone by name as well. As for Shuren, someone better do some fast talking and convincing or they'll lose him. As a little clarification, he thinks Arthus is dead. Coming out quite bleak at the moment. I've imbedded a few hints at how to bring him back in the post though.

OOC: I think I may have a way to solve your problem. XD

BiC:

Arthus.....



Huh?



Arthus....



Arthus' mind snapped awake as he finally registered the voice - or at least he thought it was a voice - in his head. Looking around, Arthus saw that he was still in the camp, outside of Shuren's tent.

There was no one to be seen.

Am I hallucinating? Arthus thought, trying to dismiss the voice as something of his own imagination.

But still the voice came - this time from behind.

Arthus!

Arthus turned around, and his eyes suddenly widened in shock as he found the Archangel Archael, still in that robe of his, standing next to a body of an armored knight. Arthus' still and coldly unmoving body. Two knights lay unconscious next to him.

"Am I dead?" Arthus finally managed to ask, stuttering the words.

"No, Arthus." The Archangel raised his hand to assure him. "Thy time hath not yet come. It was I who had drawn thy spirit out from thy mortal coil."

"Why?" Arthus asked with a confused look.

"Thy survival of thy quest hangs in the balance. It is already beginning to fall before it had even begun. Thy feral companion, Shuren, as thou would call him, is in mortal danger. Without him, I assure thee, thy quest shalt surely doom to fail, and with it, the world shalt perish forevermore." The Archangel's words echoed in his mind repeated with those last few words.

"Thou must enter through the mental gateway which now stands open within thy dying companion's tent, and rescue him before it is too late..." The Archangel continued. Before Arthus could even respond however, the Archangel disappeared without a trace.

Knowing the Archangel's words to be true, Arthus immediately rushed - floated - into the tent in his spirit form. There, he saw that the energy flow around Shuren's frail body still remained, except that it has intensified ten times more than Arthus last saw it to be.

"Well, here goes nothing." Arthus braced himself, before leaping straight through the gateway, right into Shuren's 'dreamworld'.