"How in the bloody blighted bleeding blasted blazes are we to trust ye if'n ye give no proof of how 'tis that ye claim kinship?! Ye and milady Daiyanissa look naught alike!" Neshi snaps at them.
The dark-skinned templar buries his hands in his mane and massages a burning brain. "Yes. We. Were. Her. Comrades. In. That. Ad-ven-tur-ing. Party." He says through grit teeth.
His breathing becomes heavier yet ragged. His face contorts in a paroxysm of pain. His eyes dilate incredibly, his irises almost become lost in sudden minuteness.
"ARRRGGH!" He finally screams, the walls of his soul crumbling slowly yet surely. He stumbles off, reelnig like a drunken man, clutching his head and his whole body shaking hither and yon. "GAAAGH! YORRRICK! GODS'SAKES, TELL THEM! CAUTION BE DAMNED, TELLLL THEM!"
Neshi falls into the dust, his legs still kicking. One hand twitches deggedly towards his pack and withdraws the vial that Daiyaissa had once given him. The gauntlet sigil of Torm glistens, engraved, on its surface. The crystal clear water within sparkles with holiness.
He shudders as he sips therefrom, careful to cork it swiftly thereafter. Verily, black smoke rises from Neshi's eyes, nose and ears...