[ Injury wasn't something new to Torth. He was quite used to taking the brunt of the damage as protector of the party, sometimes even toeing the line between life and death. Fighting the undead wasn't new either -- it was his mission to destroy that which would extinguish the light of the world, and the undead fell squarely under that. However, the sheer number of ghouls and zombies they had been ambushed by was far more than the duo could have predicted.
He'd used half his magic calling upon the divine energy within himself to smite some of the more dangerous undead out of existence, and the other half for healing, but in the end, it hadn't been enough. Near the very end of battle, the paladin had transposed himself between the ghoul and its target, Elden, taking a very nasty gash to his side for his troubles, and without any magic left, he was unable to heal it.
He just couldn't let Elden suffer any injuries though. Oracle he may be, but when Torth looked at him, wavering voice and hands shaking as he tended to the paladin's injuries, all Torth could see was a boy far too young to be confronted with these horrors. There was no doubt that Elden had suffered greatly in his childhood, but Torth could still recall being an obnoxious, sheltered knight-in-training when he was that age. It just didn't sit right with him, that Elden had suffered far more than he, but he didn't dare voice his worries out of disrespect.
Instead, he brought a hand up and placed it on Elden's head, smiling in reassurance. ]
It's because of diseases like Ghoul Fever that I have this blessing, and I thank my Lord every day for it.
[ And then he winces as Elden applies an ointment on one of the many cuts on his body. So much for appearing to be strong. ]
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He'd used half his magic calling upon the divine energy within himself to smite some of the more dangerous undead out of existence, and the other half for healing, but in the end, it hadn't been enough. Near the very end of battle, the paladin had transposed himself between the ghoul and its target, Elden, taking a very nasty gash to his side for his troubles, and without any magic left, he was unable to heal it.
He just couldn't let Elden suffer any injuries though. Oracle he may be, but when Torth looked at him, wavering voice and hands shaking as he tended to the paladin's injuries, all Torth could see was a boy far too young to be confronted with these horrors. There was no doubt that Elden had suffered greatly in his childhood, but Torth could still recall being an obnoxious, sheltered knight-in-training when he was that age. It just didn't sit right with him, that Elden had suffered far more than he, but he didn't dare voice his worries out of disrespect.
Instead, he brought a hand up and placed it on Elden's head, smiling in reassurance. ]
It's because of diseases like Ghoul Fever that I have this blessing, and I thank my Lord every day for it.
[ And then he winces as Elden applies an ointment on one of the many cuts on his body. So much for appearing to be strong. ]