Orin
Orin takes a closer look at Tharok and notices his various injuries.
".. didn't think so. Well, it would seem you could use some healing. Come on let's see if we can do something about that."
(All right. Is it okay to give away the fact that i can heal people. Hrm. Maybe.)
Orin ponders for a moment.
"Tharok, there is something that i have to ask from you. You see, the power to heal, be it wounds or sicknes, has always been the provence of the divine, the holy, the pious. But in the Davethran empire of old, the clergy was empowered by a demon god. While he could grant the power to heal to his priests, he hardly did. On the other hand, our nobility was actually bred for magic power."
Orin sighs and waves a hand at the dead mindflayer. "You see, in order to defeat these.. things, emperor Vellan Zere struck a deal with a demon: Worship and sacrifices for the power to put an end to their nightmare tyranny. Only with the power of magic granted by that unholy pact, Zere and his allies were able to destroy the mindflayers and drive them into oblivion. Well, obscurity rather then oblivion i'm afraid."
"Still, knowing full well that our people would only ever have a chance to maintain their freedom, he set about to make sure that our elite, our ruling class of nobles, would strengthen their blood with that of beings known for power. Dragons for example."
"To this very day, many nobles bear the signs of their non-human ancestors. Patches of scaly skin for example. But try as they might, the power of magic only ever covered what the layman would expect from a wizard or sorceror: Control of the elements to burn your enemies, call lightning from the sky, teleport, such things. But healing... curing... making things better... that still only those with a connection to the divine could do."
Orin fidgets around a bit as if debating whether he should let Tharok in on a very personal secret.
"Except of course, magic is .. chaotic.. and sometimes... sometimes things happen that defie the rules. For example, children of mages that are born with the power to heal."
Looking up and directly into Tharok's eyes, Orin goes on "Of course the priests of Gothul made sure that these were prime choices for sacrifices to the demon god. Their jealousy and cruelty knows no bounds, even now, or maybe even more so, that Gothul is dead. So i absolutely HAVE to ask of you to keep this a secret. For my life depends on it. And i know you will. For you are a good man at heart. You did not hesistate to charge the tentacles of doom to save the life of a man you didn't even know. For you did not abandon us in our time of need. And now hold still, so i can repay at least a small bit of the debt i owe you Tharok."
And so Orin goes on to touch Tharok's arm and let his magic flow into the barbarian.
Spoiler
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Cast CMW for (1d8+7)[9] and 2xCLW for (2d8+10)[23]
Stepping back again, Orin examines Tharok closely to judge the fruits of his efforts (maybe he needs more healing).
"Well, that should take care of the burns at least. Now i have to ask you something."
Taking a deep breath to get a second to order his thoughts, Orin continues to speak "Tharok, these people i travelled with and who are now dead before us, they were not my friends. Not by any serious meaning of the word. We were just strangers, our fates thrown together by chance and happenstance. And even though you just stumbled upon us in the empty space of the plains, even though our lives and fates could as well mean as little to you as the cold light of a passing star at the sky, you, Tharok, you travelled with us, fought with us, shared our pain and panic and even saved us from total destruction."
"Your example showed me, the born coward, to shake off the fear and face my destiny and you showed me what is right and proper to do."
With a sweeping gesture of his arm, Orin idicated the corpses of his fallen comapnions. "These people may have been strangers but i owe it to them, i owe it to myself and i owe it to you to do whatever i shall find myself capable of to bring them back to the temple of Isana, where maybe, just maybe, her priests might be willing and capable to bring them back to live."
"It is a bit ironic seeing that we set out to explose the dwaven king's tomb to gain the riches required to raise people we do call friends from death's dark embrace."
"And now i have to ask you. Are you willing to help me, Tharok? Are you willing to brave these dark tunnels, even if they might be filled with more of these monsters, even if it might mean we end up like Lucidae and Livina and Rego, even if it means that the tale of our lives will never be sung about but forever lost in obscurity? Will you help me carry them back? Maybe we cannot even carry all their corpses... maybe... maybe the priests can raise them if we just bring them back.. mostly intact. Oh the horror of even having to contemplate such a ghoulish course of action!"
"But i am not willing to leave them behind to the vultures, to abandom them in their time of need. I can only hope that you can find it in your heart to help them once again. Will you brave the mindflayers maze with me? For down in these dark tunnels lies an ancient portal, linked to a set of ruins on the other side of the Bitter Sea, just an hours walk or so from Halgarth in Qusa."
Orin looks at Tharok, pleading.
Lycar