OOC: yes, he is still very sick.
i only lent him some of my strength, i didn't heal him.
how he uses that strength is entirely up to you.
you could, for example, have him fall asleep and regain more energy now that he isn't unconscious.
it's entirely up to you

OOC: Umm, for your information, the army hasn't left yet. And besides that, the party will be leaving the army by going to a different direction, remember?

BiC:

Arthus sighed with relief as the pair returned at last. But where was Ravenwing? There were many questions to be asked, but one look at the condition of the pair told him that they were in no condition to do anything greater than lifting their fingers, much less talking. Thus, after much confering with his lieutanents, Arthus decided that the rest of the army will leave with the fleeing elves towards the borders, while Arthus and his companions will remain behind to wait for the pair to recuperate, and at the same time, if possible, persuade the remaining elves to leave before the horde attacked. By estimation, they had no more than three days before the dark lords could gather an undead army large enough to attack the town.

***********************************

It was later that night, when everyone had went to their beds, that Arthus' vision came to him.

Aeris leaned on her staff heavily, eyes wearily looking at the cracking ground below her. She heard Shuren collapse, and her heart collapsed with him. It was her idea to divert the enemy forces, which had seemingly done little for the knight's army. In her determined mind, she had allowed Wind and Shuren to join her, and now, Wind was dead, and Shuren close. If anyone was to die, Aeris most fervently hoped it would have been her, and not those who followed her. The poor cleric closed her eyes, and quietly whimpered "Oh dear god, what have I done?" before her injuries, fatiuge, and despair took over, and she felt weak. She knew now, the extend of Nezurahl's curse, and hated that foul beast with to equal extent. Aeris was dimly aware of her staff clattering to the ground mere moments before she collapsed into unconciousness.

((I agree with Arhra Newb, These are beyond what simple healing can do. As a dedicated cleric, my character can do nothing about her curse, and neither can anyone else other than Nezurahl.))

Shurne floats in bloody darkness. Everything is pain and moving or even thinking increases it. Though he does not know it, indeed he is barely aware of anything aside from his pain, he is suffering from magical backlash. It had been bad enough that he had tremendously overexerted himself both magical and physically. Normally when a mage tried to go too far beyond their resources they suffered backlash, their physical health being cannibalised as the magic earthed itself through their body. That Shuren had doen so untrained deepened the danger for he did not know how to lessen its impact and shield himself. Worse still his magical talents had not been awakened naturally but had been blasted open by another's hand. It meant that the links through which he could draw on power were raw and bloody, like a gaping wound rather than a natural channel. He could not center himself and his magic was bleeding into places it should not go.

Physically he's little better. There are dead people who look more alive than him. In addition to the tremendous strain the backlash has put on his body, there are also the wounds he suffered in battle and the lingering effects of the tiamath's poison. Added to this are the double burdens of lack of food and lack of sleep. Some sustenance needs to be put into him. The wounds are only half healed and any use of healing magic - which bolsters the bodies ability to heal itself - which risk putting to much of a demand on his resources which are already stretched to their limit and killing him outright.

Worse still, all of this has been compounded by how Shuren had managed to supress his injuries by sheer force of will. The tower of will he had forged had allowed him to get where he was and he would have probably died out in the artic tundra without it. But when it had come falling down, all it had contained had been unleashed at once and the shock alone had come within a hairsbreadth of killing him. His life teteers on a knife's edge.

OOC: As I said, not good. Even using healing magic on him risks killing him. In fact, due to the rawness of his magic, it would be unwise to use any magic on him. It could trigger something. He needs to be tended very carefully.

While the cleric had only been out for mere minutes, time passes strangely to the unconcious psyche. "Ugh..." Aeris groans. She is strong, mentally, and physically, and especially now, in her resolve to save her other charge. Fortunately, Ilgivan's pseudo healing had given her the strength to rise again. Unknown of the length of time she was unconcious, Aeris was grieved to see a large mass of confused people standing around Shuren. "They pretend, and know nothing... Why will noone do anything!?" Aeris thinks to herself, angry, and frustrated at the situation. She was, however, the most skilled, and perhaps, only healer in the camp. It would hurt, most grieviously, to tend to him, but Aeris did not care. Thrusting a finger toward two of the knights, she sternly commands, "You! Yes, You, set up a tent around him, immediately. He cannot be moved." The knights looked confused, and suprised, but Aeris' cold steel stare made them carry out the order with prodigious haste. The Phoenix Guard lent heavily on her staff, watching the work. She ordered for any surviving apothecary equiptment, and whatever improvised tools she could use. Shuren almost seemed to bleed magic, his mana flow ebbing and flowing far quicker and more chaotic than any Aeris had seen. Magic would likely kill him. A tear left her face, and she prayed she could save Shuren before it was too late. As the equiptment arrived, and the tent was set, Aeris swallowed her fear, and resolved to do her best...

((Can't risk moving him, especially by magical means. If the horde is to arrive before Aeris finishes, you'll have to leave them, or restrain her, because she won't leave Shuren willingly.))

Arthus knew not where he was. In one moment, he was sleeping in his personal tent back at the encampment his knights had set up outside the elven town, but then he found himself slowly drifting away, as if his spirit is being pulled - no, backened - by an unknown force in a distant land. In a matter of seconds, Arthus found himself floating, nay, flying through a mass of land before arriving to his destination - a dark and omninous cave where the stench of death runs thick. And in just that short moment, at the cave entrance, he thought he saw a pair of blazing, golden eyes glaring at him from deep within the cave, but his attention was immediately distracted as he saw what his vision has brought him to.

And with that, Arthus awoke from his fitful sleep with a start.

The Celestial Judgement.

OOC: Sorry about taking so long to reply. I've been having trouble deciding what to post.

Shuren struggles weakly in the drowning darkness. Down here he is hidden from the pain but there is something else that it hides him from. It is like floating in a sea of blood but dimly he realises that the seductive lure of letting go and allowing the darkness to claim him would be the easier of the two choices he is given. On one hand lies an end to pain and the other holds pain that seems almost insurmountable. But the second of the paths does not only hold the certainty of pain, but also the possibility of life. On the edge of thought, Shuren makes his choice. The bloody sea of darkness has an end and like a drowning diver he strives to reach its surface. He breaks free of the clinging darkness but then something else envelops him. Pain.

He thrashes as it touches him, razored ribbons brushing through him in red agony. Shuren tries to summon magic to him to aid him but it amplifies the pain and splinters his consciousness. There is no anchor and nothing is right, he is lost in a red haze of slashing crimson.

OOC: Basically Shuren's got nothing to tie him to reality. Phyiscally he'd be thrashing and he may unconsciously use magic. That would be very dangerous for him and he might see any use of magic on him as an attack.

OOC: Newb's missing again. :(

OOC2: BTW, just to clarify things(i didn't mention it in my previous posts), Arthus has taken a small band of knights along with him while the rest of the knights leave.

BiC:

Arthus rushed out of his tent as soon as he awoke, startling the pair of knights standing watch outside. What startled the knights more was that his sword, held on the paladin's hands, was glowing a bright golden glow, instead of the customary blue whenever there was a battle to be fought. Thinking that they were about to be attacked, the knights too, drew their swords and looked around nervously.

"Sheathe your weapons, my knights. There's no battle to be fought tonight." Arthus assured them. But even then, the knights did not comply, so fearful were they of being ambushed by a horde of nightmares.

"What has happened to your sword, my lord?" One finally asked, pointing at the flaring sword.

"I am not entirely sure." Arthus looked intently on his blade. He could feel his sword pulling him towards the north, but to where? Perhaps it was leading him towards another of the Judgements? That would be the best explanation, since it happened directly after his strange dream.

"Get our packs ready. We will leave at first light." Arthus bade his knights, who were still staring at his glowing sword with awe, and a little trepidation. They saluted, and left immediately for their duties, though they still looked back occasionally at the shining blade.

OOC: darn it! i posted something saying the mental thrashing of shuren was giving me a massive headache, but the server problems must have gotten rid of it.

IC: Ilgivan stumbled out of bed, the mental screams of Shuren lashed against his mind, preventing him from thinking clearly to any degree. Alemeria seemed to be affected too, as all he was able to manage was to flutter onto his shoulder before collapsing.

Ilgivan managed to make his way to where Shuren was, and looked in. He saw Shuren flailing randomly, changing back and forth in the process, while magical discharge sparked around him.

Ilgivan shook his head, and wandered off to find someone with a clearer mind who could help.

Aeris quickly set to work after she had the quiet and silence to work in. Taking a metal rod, she placed it in the fire outside, and began setting up incense to sanctify the tent. Shuren's case was a special one, and when he started thrashing uncontrollably, it wasn't particularly a bad thing. Although his old wounds reopened and let blood, his excess energy and mana burnt off the more he struggled. "I need to equalize his internal flow before I can do anything..." Aeris thought, rummaging in the bag of apothecary supplies the knights had provided. The supplies were basic, but Arthas was apparrently clever in issuing his first aid supplies, as there included a few tricks with which Aeris could work with. Removing a slightly magical glass decanter used for siphoning mana off of gems, the cleric improvised by wiring up a leeching needle, and inserting the device once Shuren had slowed in his struggling. In theroy, it should lessen his internal magical oversupply, but Aeris would need to carefully watch his mana, lest it draw too much, and kill him.

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'.

"Should have known... Lich... Too bad it wasn't trapped in your obliterated fortress." Aeris spat, "Look Nezurahl, as you can see, I'm very busy, what with the end of the world and all that, so unless you have something straightfoward to say, let me suffer in peace." The cleric said, shifting into a position to at least make it look like she might be able to defend herself.

"What does he want... Immortals love to do this, but he's got more pressing things to attend with. Maybe he wants to help, for his own ends. This Fifth horseman must be terribly inconvienient for his evil stature." Aeris thought, sarcastically.

She looked up, to see Nezurahl's form still standing there, staring at her. "What side are you on, anyway?"

Nezurahl's reply holds a mocking note to it, "I should think that would be obvious. I might ask you the same question." His harsh tone softens to little more than a whisper as his lips twist in a slight smile. "You flee from your ally in his greatest need. You are ever my puppet in this, cursed unto death. Remember that." And his form wavers and disappears as swiftly as it had appeared. He is content with this - Aeris had seen what he had wanted her to see and another small part of his plans is laid. His disembodied spirit leaves to overview the forces being marshalled for the attack. It should come just in time...

* * *

Shuren is fading away, thoughts slowing as the leaden lump of despair pulls him down into the darkness. He is dying and he does not care. But he senses something and, uncurling from his foetal position slightly, he can suddenly see something forcing its way inot the depths down towards him. It thrusts aside the shadows making it seem to have a sphere of white light surrounding it. He can't make out its features yet but he says softly, "Go away. My life has no value. Let me die."

Arthus had jumped through the gateway only to land in a distorted sphere of ever growing darkness. Every now and then, Arthus could see a small speck of light flickering from ahead, but everytime he tries to catch a glimpse of what it was, the light fades away again.

Suddenly, Arthus realised something. His spirit form was now entirely embedded by a dim, glowing light, and the light seemed to banish the darkness wherever it went.

H-how did I- Arthus absently thought to himself.

It was I who did this to ye. A voice penetrated the bubble in his mind. Arthus recognized it as the voice of the Archangel Archael. Thou art Shuren's only hope. You must penetrate through the shadows and save him before he falls to the eternal hunger of this dark realm. Even as we speak, his mind is already in despair, and it will only be a matter of time before he surrenders to the darkness. Go, quickly!"

And without any hestitation, Arthus dove forward towards the direction of the flickering light, and the shadows fled whereever his glowing body touched. As he neared his goal, he could see the outline of Shuren's spirit form. But as he reached barely a few feet away from Shuren's floating body, he found himself suddenly blocked by an invisible wall of mental energy.

"Go away," Arthus heard him say in a voice of utter despair. "My life has no value. Let me die." And suddenly, his form began to shimmer and fade, as if to vanish into miniature pieces of atoms.

"No!" Arthus cried out towards him with his arm outstretched, breaching through the mental wall towards Shuren's body. "Don't give up! It's not the end. We still have a world to save. The fate of the universe hangs on your survival this day! Remember your pack, Shuren. Remember your FRIENDS!!! I can help you! Take my hand!"

OOC: this post is based on us all seeing the same thing but interpreting it differently.

IC: Ilgivan watched as Arthus dove in after Shuren.

Hoping that he could save Shuren, but fearing the worst, he ran downstream to erect further barriers and baffles to help rescue Shuren with.

"Of course." Aeris said, angrily, as Nezurahl finished. "It's personal, now, though." she added, once he disappeared. She return to the others, due to her condition, as it might comprimise the survivors. "If I am to die alone, and that fate is sealed, then I shall take as many of your foul abominations with me." Aeris thought, slyly. Perhaps, just perhaps, she might still be able to benefit the fleeing army.

Aeris laid down once more, she would need rest and preparation for the time to come. A few hours... no more, would be sufficient. There would be a reckoning for Nezurahl's madness. Soon...

When Arthus speaks, Shuren suddenly feels weak with relief. He'd thought Arthus dead, killed by that accidental blow. He had been a fool to allow sorrowing despair to claim him. They are trying to save him even to the last. Despair no longer crushes him. His thoughts whirl with one at the fore, "How could I have thought my life has no value... All life has value simply by being alive." And he had forgotten his purpose, to aid in stopping the Fifth Horseman. He banishes the shadows around him, a trap that he had woven for himself. As everything around them disolves into splinters of light, Shuren says one last thing to Arthus, "Thank you."

OOC: Cue, big enemy army.

Returning to where he had entered, Ilgivan awoke, and looked outside.

"Um, If you guys are awake again yet, you may want to see this."

In a bright spark of light, Shuren had wiped off the surrounding shadows in an instant. Arthus could now see the new sparkle of determination in the werewolf's eyes as, for a split second, met in eye to eye contact with him.

"Thank you," Shuren offered his thanks, raising one of his hands to meet Arthus'.

When both hands tocuhed each other however, Arthus' was instantly hurled back through the mental gateway, to return back towards reality - only to see the face of a nightmare once again.

The Apocalypse Knights' camp was set up somewhat further away from the elven settlement that night, in the nearby forest that shielded them from view from the outside. However, those within the camp could see everything within a mile radius.

An explosion rocked the ground from the direction of the fortified walls of the elven town as a huge boulder, weighing about a ton or so, crashed just outside the walls, missing it's mark by a few feet. At first, there was nothing, but after a short, brief moment of silence, it was followed by a howl of darkest despair, a howl that no living being could utter in it's lifetime. And then, the nightmare began.

Just a few hundred meters away from the town walls, a huge sea of undescribable horrors raged towards their target, hurling themselves straight into the walls, as if meaning to run through the them like it was thin air. The elven militia - or those that remained anyway - responded by sending a storm of arrows sailing through the air, striking down targets with perfect accuracy. True to their fame, the elves are Archeron neatly took down the first few lines of undead, falling them like the scythe to the crop. But still the wave continued.

A few of the Apocalypse Knights that remained in the camp watched the battle from the safety of the encampment, already dousing all the fires to keep their location a secret from those that may still be watching.

"How big are they?" Arthus' asked one of the knights.

"They came without warning, my Lord," One responded. "But we have managed to scout out their numbers just a few hours before the battle." The Knight's face suddenly turned into mask of sadness, as he looked again towards the direction of the doomed town. "I'm afraid there is nothing we could do for them, my Lord. The enemy number over ten thousand, whereas the defenders have only a few hundred. Once the enemy breaches those walls, the outcome of this sorry battle will have already been decided."

Aeris awoke suddenly as the crashing boulder destroyed a portion of the Elven city's wall. Watching the tide of undead sail toward it like the waves agaisnt the beach did not do much for her confidence.

"This is suicide..." she thought, shivering at the mass of abominations as they penetrated the Elvish defenses.

"Ah, but logic remains, Aeris." a familiar voice said, in a teacher's tone, "You of all should know that the undead are designed to be terrifying more than they are cunning."

"Wind?" Aeris thought, probing her mind, "Is that you?"

"A part of my fragmented soul managed to imprint itself upon you. There is no time to explain, if you wish to buy Arthus time to escape, you must do it quickly. Remember, be the unseen." The voice said, fading away...

"Allright..." Aeris said aloud, "Time to give those scum what they deserve..."
She raised her staff, casting a spell to mask her lifeforce enough to make the undead oblivious to her presence, and strode toward the maelstrom of terror.

OOC: Well, as Shuren's still recupurating, he probably will not be taking part in this battle.

Nezurahl watches the battle. Which side is winning is obvious. At the great battle that had brought the Fifth Horseman into the world, the knights and their allies had a force more than twice this size and the force that Nezurahl had commanded was smaller. Admittedly though this force was mostly composed of the lesser undead but it held at its core demons and greater undead. The attack had come at the moment he had intended and very soon this elven settlement would be no more. They had destroyed many of the zombies and skeletons that made up the bulk of the force but Nezurahl knows he can spend the unlife of the creatures like water. They were amongst the easiest undead to create and just as easy to reanimate. He'd sent them first merely to make the elves deplete their ammunition.

As Aeris walks into the midst of the battlefield, it almost seems as if the howling wind is taunting her, "Come... throw away your life in a meaningless battle." There is no sign of Nezurahl's presence though. Perhaps he is unaware of what she means to do.

Ilgivan runs back over to Shuren and tries to help him stand, but to no avail.

thinking, he looks about, and then he senses something. The undead are still continuing their macabre mental chant, but this time, he feels something odd about the undead. He tugs at their minds with his own, and is surprised to see that one of the lesser creatures simply collapses when he does this, leaving strength behind. The undead are weak, and they are quickly reanimated, but by draining about ten or twelve in a cycle, he is able to transfer some energy into Shuren, finally helping him to stand.
"Tell me when you feel yourself to be back to normal; I wouldn't want to berserk you now after all"
He continues to drain the hordes, slowing their advance, and feeding the energy into Shuren.

That is when he senses an anomly. There is a moving bubble of non-lifeforce within the undead ranks. they do not notice it, but to Ilgivan it seems highly suspect. He begins to keep an eye on it, taking care to not draw attention to the bubble

Aeris slowly walked into the undead ranks, trying to get a central location, and being very careful not to bump into any of the monstrosities. Elven arrows continued to rain into the horde, but there were enough bodies to shield her effectively.

She could hear Nezhural's taunt. Fortunately, if he couldn't do anything earlier, he might not be able to do so now...

"Aeris! You've been detected!" Wind's voice faintly alarmed.

"Who!?" She replied, frantically looking around into the undead ranks.

"No way to know."

Aeris accellerated her plan, Unslinging her staff, and hoping she was central enough to hit whatever was controlling the undead, she spins around, gathering her mana for the spell. The undead were confused as they suddenly sensed something where there was once nothing, but never got to react. As soon as Aeris was visible to them, she had already yelled the trigger. "Victoria Stella Crux!" (Victory Star Cross) and thrust her staff into the ground. With a deafening sound, a massive cross of light shot out from the ground in all directions, and the undead within a large radius disentigrated under the force of the positive energy.

"Is it dead?" Aeris thought, desperately

"No! Still there..." Wind replied.

"Dammit! Whoever it is, they know I'm here now!" she cursed aloud, readying for the inevitable counterattack.

"That....that IDIOT!" Arthus cursed in exasperation at Aeris, who had suddenly walked out unto the battlefield without notice. "What does she think she's doing?"

It was insane......and impossible! Aeris had walked into a rain of deadly arrows and had not even managed to get scratched!

"Get to her!" Arthus cried out to his knights. But before any of them could make a move however, Aeris raised her staff high into the air, and thrust the end of the staff into the ground with great strength. The resulting explosion made Arthus and his knights wince and cover their eyes in pain, temporarily blinding and deafening them from the light and sound.

Soon, however, vision returned to them, and they gasped in surprise. Aeris had single-handed wiped out an entire battalion of undead with a concentrated force of divine energy.

Suddenly, Aeris winced and recoiled, as if attacked by an unseen force. Arthus could feel it's presence too. Whatever it was, the aura of negative energy it released was tremendous. And it was getting nearer to Aeris. Arthus knew that he would not be able to reach her in time before the invisible spectre reached her. He thought of the only possible way that he could save her.

"Distorta!" Arthus shouted out the magical word at the direction of the unseen force. It was a spell he had learned during one of his campaigns in the Great War that could dispel any form of magical protection or spellcasting in an area. Hopefully it would be able to reveal the creature before it is too late.

The invisible force that had attacked wind stops with Arthus' spell but that only seems to make it change tactics. Wind picks up, circling a center point just a few meters in front of Aeris and the dust and ashes carried on the breeze coalesce into a familiar shape. Nezurahl. It is the horned wizard in a shape formed of air and ash and magic. His cinerous robes flap in the gale as he speaks with a voice of shrieking wind, "You are foolish to have come here. For if you should die, prophecy will become unravelled. Prepare to meet your fate." From all sides, the dead close in as Nezurahl advances on her, wielding a staff of fiery ash.

* * *

Shuren is still not in a very good state, barely conscious as Ilgivan drags him out of the tent. He tries to focus on Ilgivian's words, not really hearing as he feels energy thrust at him and into him. It strengthens him but the energy feels... tainted. It is the stuff of life but it was sustaining a kind of life past death. Thinking more carefully about it he reconsiders. No, it is not inherently tainted, it is life blindly striving to live. Yet that which is sustained by it hates life. Once again he reconsiders, no it is not hatred. It is longing? As he dimly muses on this, he hears a voice. Shuren.

It is familiar for it is the same presence that had spoken to him once before. Once again he can not sense whether it is hostile or friendly. It had gifted magic to him and warned him that the price to be paid for this would be terrible. Could it have come to claim this price? Feeling a little fearful he answers, Yes?

Awaken.

Shuren suddenly seems to go from half-conscious to fully awake in Ilgivan's grip. He tears away from him, form shifting into his wolven shape as he goes. Ilgivan moves to follow as Shuren still seems unsteady, even caught up in a feral rage. That changes when he reaches the first of the undead. Individually he's still more than a match for the zombies. It was being swarmed under that is the true danger. But as Ilgivan watches, Shuren dismembers the first of the undead, his strength considerable even while he's weakened. But to Ilgivian's shock, Shuren drains a part of the power that had sustained the undead creature in a way similar to what Ilgivan had been doing just before. Moving slightly faster, Shuren attacks the next.

OOC: Shuren tends to be a bit of a berserker. And Newb gave me an idea that would allow Shuren to take part in the battle. By the way, is it just me or do we have a lot of inner voices? Now, we need a new thread.

OOC: Hmm.....that's a good idea. Maybe we could exploit these "inner voices" to the storyline, eh?(If you get my meaning)

OOC: since there is no link, here it is http://www.nuklearforums.com/showthread.php?t=8864