Dirk smacked his lips, suddenly very parched. He turned his head lazily in the flickering torchlight, regaining his bearings. He snapped upright as the last few minutes came back to him. Cyme... Azoth... no! He bite his lips, fighting back tears. A shudder of loss, grief and loneliness wracked him.

Taking in a deep raping breathe he took in the scene around him. Bodies, no corpses, everywhere. Seven others, eight including himself. Three of them seem still out of it and injured. Balling a fist, he slammed the ground. Damnit Dirk! Pull yourself together! No time to wallow, people need you!

Standing up on shaking legs, he approached the one who looked the most wounded. He took time to study them then apply what first aid he could.

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I'm on mobile and can't check my sheet for my Heal modifier.
Heal check [roll]1d20 [/roll]