Ghotrag hurls her body to the snow. Her vision, impaired to begin with, quickly darkens as life leaves her. The last thing she sees is Ghotrag turned to face the orc crowd, fists raised triumphantly over his head.
Her eye closes.
...
Then her eyes open. Both eyes. Healing explodes through her body like a lightning bolt, and in an instant she is whole - entirely whole. Alalla is restored to max hp, but currently suffers -4 to attack rolls, saving throws, and ability checks.
She sees the same scene as just a moment ago, and it seems that no time has passed.
Before her, Ghotrag with his fists raised, orcs before him cheering.
Between them, her fire sword, cooled blade stuck into the snow.
To her side, Erevain backs away, tucking a familiar-looking rod into his clothes.
In the crowd, the hooded orc raises its head to look her in the eyes. She doesn't recognize the orc's face, but his otherworldly, passionless gaze...
The Revered Brother's eyes never leave Alalla's as he listens to her answers. When she finishes, he sits quietly for a long time, and the silence grows fat between them. Finally, he speaks. "Your devotion is lacking. You are indeed a weapon. Finely crafted and honed, yes?" He pokes his finger in her direction with each word. "But without a true purpose, you are nothing but a pointed stick in a windstorm, buffeted about by every change in fickle weather." He gestures at the other companions. "You are here, in this place. Why? Circumstance. The wind blows, and you turn to follow."
He shrugs his robed shoulders. "If you do not act for yourself, there is nothing to prevent Gruumsh from asserting his claim making you his."
"...If you would break free of a god, you must break toward something else."
A memory? Or a message?
Ghotrag seems unnaturally still, as though frozen in place. Attack rolls against him have advantage, and melee attacks within 5 ft that hit are automatic critical hits.
Kill him. Then, together, we will show them a better way, yes?
