"But... you're a cleric of Pelor." The thief retorted, pulling himself off the floor and dusting himself off.
"Indeed, for his grace is as boundless as his mercy, and the light of his knowledge should shine in all the dark places of this world." The cleric nodded as he spoke. He let his warhammer's head hit the floor with a resounding thump, but kept a hand on the haft. The thief understood implicitly that this meant the conversation would not be over until the cleric decided so.
"So... you're a devout cleric of Pelor... so why did he curse you?" He raised an eyebrow quizzically at the holy man.
"Ahh, that would be a sweet thing to know, yes." The cleric scratched at his beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps I made some grievous error in my prayers, perhaps my actions led to some dark happening that I've not yet come to know. Perhaps he is simply testing me. Alas, I was not granted this knowledge." The priest shrugged, his breastplate heaving heavily as he did so. "At this time, it is not for me to know. It is for me to punish the wicked," he bowed his head wryly to the cleric, "to enlighten the ignorant, and to heal the sick. And so I shall." He smiled.
"Rrrrrright..." The thief felt his chest gingerly. Definitely a few cracked ribs. "Well since we've already finished with the whole 'punishing the wicked' thing, I hope..." He looked up to the cleric hopefully. The cleric waggled his hand, maybe. "Let's maybe skip ahead to healing the sick." And he indicated to his injured chest.
"Ah ah ah... to everything an order, and in its order all things. Now..." The cleric pushed a chair towards the thief and indicated he sit while he pulled out a book. "About the word of Pelor..."
The thief groaned and sat, painfully. He listened to the clerics words off and on, but was mostly distracted by the man's two shadows, who were constantly fighting each other across the floor and walls. What a weird priest.
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