Glaffin takes one look at Indrys' state, and looks past him to Tallhelm, who's slumped on the wagon unconscious. He looks stable for now, but is still in a worse state than Indrys, and there may be more wounded even farther out of sight.

"If you can stand the pain, you'll be alright for the moment. There's only so much healing I can do, and if it'll save lives I'd rather spend it there than on relieving pain." Glaffin gestures to the bolt still embedded in his own leg, wincing as the movement shifts its point a bit and digs it in a bit further. Damned barbed shafts aren't going to do anyone any good when it comes to tending these wounds, especially if he has to do it when he has limited access to his god's favor.

To the guard standing over the unconscious bandit, he tosses the spare coil of silk rope he picked up before the fight, "Tie him up tight then. Maybe he can tell us how many of his friends we missed once we wake him." Barring the two that got away, Glaffin is sure that this wasn't the entire camp worth of bandits. If retribution was coming for this, he'd rather know now.

Then to Thorus, how seems to be in the middle of being coaxed to go off to fight by a sailor who's in nearly as bad a shape as Indrys, "I could use another pair of hands here if you know anything about healing! There's too many for just me to tend at once." The most important thing about field work is speed. If you don't stop the bleeding in everyone, it won't matter how fancy your stitches on the first guy looks when the second and third had to be buried under stones in a ditch.