Artur didn't move for what felt like hours, breathing slowly and carefully thinking about absolutely nothing. A clear mind was the first defense against demonic possession. After a time, he began to realize that the screaming and the buzzing had ceased, and his mind drifted to the fact that he was still down on one knee, head bowed, hands clasped on the hilt of his unsheathed sword, the point of which was buried deep in the earth in front of him. He tried to pull it out, but his frozen muscles refused to move. Taking a slow, deep breath, Artur tried again, unclasping first the little finger of his right hand, the the little finger of his left. Thus, he was slowly able to take his hands off the sword. This was probably unwise -- the moment his fingers hands were free the rest of his muscles let go, like a heavy door that has swung free after scraping heavily over the first few inches of its path. 

Thus Artur found himself on his side, head swimming. He could see the elf from here. His pale body seemed to glow in the light of the full moon. The milky-white marble statues of the saints which adorned the Order's temples came to mind, and that was the thought that brought Artur fully back to his senses. No, not a saint. A demon. An elf possessed by a demon. And not just any demon -- one of the No-God's, the Other's, lavender-lit own. 

With the same heavy slowness, Artur pushed himself into a sitting position. From there, he tried to stand, but it was useless. Gritting his teeth against the bruising his pride was about to take, he pulled himself, half-crawling, half-rolling, over to the elf to examine him more closely. He was a gruesome sight up close, skin knotted with scars and thick with ink. Artur shuddered involuntarily. The illustration seemed to writhe like the bodies of a million black maggots, and the picture resembled nothing more than a page from the unholy [i]Demonata[/i], the dark works of the No-God's pagan worshippers. Artur looked away, and slowly made his way back to his sword. Every movement jostled his ribs, and by the time he managed to get himself fully upright and wrench his sword out of the ground, it was all he could do to keep himself from collapsing once again. Even just reciting exorcisms took all the strength out of a Guardian's body, and this, Artur felt, was not just any exorcism. 

The one stroke of luck he had was that Revelations had found Apocalypse, and the was calmly standing and nuzzling his brother when Artur approached and tried to lead him to the elf. The horse wouldn't come near the body, however, and Artur was left with no choice but to pick him up and carry him to where Apocalypse still lay, breathing heavily and eyes rolling with pain, though no longer screaming. The elf seemed unusually light, underfed, and bony, as whatever had caused the incident earlier disappeared off with half his body weight. He flopped the elf face down on the ground, none too gently, and went to his saddlebags. He found the jar of dove's white used for painting Circles and talismans and a brush, along with the Guardians' reference guide, and returned to stare at the pattern on the back of the elf.

"Sealing Circle," he mumbled, and flipped through the fat tome until he found the appropriate section. It listed several fundamental circles and hundreds of modifications to be used as needed. [i]When sealing a demonic force for transportation within a vessel,[/i] one section read. Artur took a deep breath, winced when the attempt jounced his ribs, and set to work as quickly as he could.

When he was done, the elf's back was covered from shoulder to hip by the strongest Sealing Circle Artur could manage to invent, reinforced by symbols and talismans, while his chest bore an excerpt from [i]Sealing the Demon[/i] and some symbols to reinforce the spirit, all written in Artur's best attempt at textbook script. He wasn't very good at Symbology, and he certainly didn't know if this sort of thing worked on elves, but he would damn well try anyway. 

The last thing he managed before collapsing was to tied the elf's hands and feet and prop him against a tree after confiscating his sword and wand and a number of other things that he'd found in his pockets. These he neatly laid out on a bare patch of ground. He couldn't even muster a fire, but he determined to stay awake to watch the elf, and set about mixing a potion to help put Apocalypse at ease. 

The elf stirred. Artur watched, stony-faced.

"Is it true what you said about not having a soul?"