The frail priest of Isis worked feverishly over the fallen form of his friend. He did not understand why the warrior would not wake.
The warriors wound's were healed, but no matter how fervently or reverently the priest pleaded to his goddess she would not return to him his friend from the realm of dreams.
He turned to his dwarvish friend, "He will not wake," was the only thing he could think to say.
"Nooo....really?" was the critical