“OPEN UP!” Pint Bloodhorn bangs at the door of the temple. Impatient, he curls his hefty fist and raises it to again hammer against the wood when it flings open. The priestess, looking very distressed, surveys the groups. Her displeasure is apparent, but she does not voice her anger at his discourteous manner. Before Tank can further damage the situation, Bay-Wynn steps forward to beseech the healer.
“My lady, our friend is in dire need of your assistance. We would be humbled if you would offer us your assistance.”
“Of course, my child. Please, bring him in” the healer urges.
The group enters the temple and Mira looks to the healer. When she waves a hand over a large waist high stone altar, Mira lays Otho across it. Though it is well past sunset, the temple is bright with the light of thousands of candles, including three ornate wrought iron chandeliers hanging high above their he
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