Ossanlin's unkind smile never falters or changes as his null-time void strikes Okaru's unconscious form. It latches onto the human's energy and forms a perpetual barrier, a sort of stasis prison stabilized by Okaru himself. Ossanlin would no longer need to concentrate to maintain it.
Ossanlin slowly sheathes his glowing katana, still smiling. He glances at Claxter, dark-purple eyes burning with the intensity of a pulsar. <Such power...so much power...I could end the war...I could do anything!> Ossanlin revels in the raw energy now stemming from Mar. Something tugs at the back of his mind, a nagging voice, an insignificant thought, but it disturbs him. It's as if this voice will not allow him comfort...such annoyance. It is now that Ossanlin sees Mar, the true Mar, weakening. Incarnations, stems of his form in pain, dying...including the one here at the bar.
Ossanlins thoughts jog back...what was he thinking? Unlimited power? This was NOT him. He immediately runs to Mar, seeking the source of the energy feed. The strange gauntlet. He glances at Elayne, dark-glowing eyes still alight. <Move...now.> Ossanlin wastes no further time, stripping Mar's sleeve back and grasping the gauntlet. The power...the power was so sweet...but he couldn't keep it, it wasn't his. His friend would die...with the battle raging in his mind, Ossanlin uses all of his strength to force the energy back into the gauntlet. The blackness drains from his eyes and his wounds open, blood beginning to seep. He cries out in pain as the energy no longer buffers him. Still he pushes the energy away. Mar's energy was no longer within him, but still he pushes, ceding some of his own energy to Mar. He feels his aura reduce as the gauntlet seems to start drinking his energy.
He winces as the energy drains from him, pain wracking his body. His fur reverts to blue, the bright white glow around him fading. His eyes continue to glow but with a much less almost muted intensity. Ossanlin breaks the contact with the gauntlet, falling to his side as his wounds begin bleeding more profusely. He groans, feeling too weak even to morph.