Ask Fabian to end the man's misery.

Devotion to Helestria fills one with bliss and a love for all life, eternally seeking the light in the world. But here, in the dark beneath the earth, faced with a wicked and unnatural illness, Althea feels the onset of doubt creep into her soul. None of her training prepared for such a horrific blight. One last glance to the suffering stranger, and Althea saw only a feeble shell of a person lying limply on the tunnel floor, gasping for breath. Fear seized her heart, and so she gave her one-eyed bodyguard a nod of affirmation. Althea turned away, shutting her eyes. She could not bear to look upon the slaughter of an innocent, but he was so sick. She prayed that she made the correct choice. And then she heard a gutteral scream, but it was Fabian's voice.

"Get off of him, you mad fucker!" Lorna bellowed. Althea snapped open her eyes and turned around to see the sick man sinking his teeth into Fabian's arm. A wild, frenzied look filled the stranger's cloudy eyes. In that moment, Lorna brought her axe about in a single arc, cleaving clean through the man's leg. Dark, thick blood sprayed across her boots. Yet he remained latched onto Fabian's arm, and the sudden shift helped to topple the bald mercenary to the ground. A muffled, throaty howl erupted from the stranger's black, ichor-stained maw, still fastened to Fabian's forearm. The man's pale hands clawed at Fabian's dark leather armor, but proved more of a nuisance than a threat.

"Get him off me, damn it! He's almost down to the bone!" Fabian slammed his arm against the floor, and with an audible crack the nameless biter's skull crumpled against the floor, finally shaking him loose. Groaning out of pain and frustration, Fabian held his injured arm to his chest and reached out toward the dwarf with the other. Thanks to her voluptuous center of gravity, Lorna easily pulled her ally to his feet. He cursed and flexed the fingers near his breastplate. "What in the Nine Hells was that about? He was one foot in the grave one moment, then thrashin' like a wild dog the next," Fabian grumbled and looked to Althea. "You couldn't help that poor sod, but maybe you could patch me up, little lady?" he wiggled the arm against his chest for emphasis, but then immediately winced with regret.

"Ah! Of course I will," she said and produced a small, golden handbell attached to a braid of white silk ribbons, one of several holy symbols of Helestria. "Warmth of hearth, light of dawn, by Helestria's grace may this pain be gone," Althea recited with eyes shut and one hand on Fabian's arm. The crease on his forehead subsided as a warm glow enveloped the acolyte's hand.

After a moment, the light faded and Althea stepped away, head bowed in silent gratitude toward her goddess. The bald mercenary flexed his arm once before Lorna landed a punch directly on the previous injury. He nodded his thanks before gesturing his dwarven companion and the torch back to the storage shed. Perhaps Althea even improved the mercenary's arm beyond the norm, for he picked the lock in almost no time flat. With a heave, they opened the rusty, creaky vault door. What they found inside was unexpected by all.