Runepriests Are Kindly But They're Dumb

Grumpi waved his staff around in irregular circles as he marked as much bodies as he could with his mending runes.

They were fighting a losing battle, of that he was now sure. The hordes of his opponents had flooded in through the postern and trampled what little opposition they had encountered. It had gotten to the point where they were carelessly rushing in through the front door, counting on the assistance of their health dealers perched on the inner walls. He looked up dismally as gigantic orcs in ragtag armour taunted them from on high, defiantly taking all they had to throw at them with apparent ease.

He picked up a brave elf from the oil-flooded gate who was up no sooner than he was rushing back to the fray, only to fall victim to a pit of purple shades.

Grudgingly, more so than any other, he picked him up again and took a deep breath while surveying theh backlline. All around him more staves twirled and stomped and hammers were fiercely elevated towards the heavens.

He paused for a second to marvel at Callypous, his friend and fellow healer who had stood beside him and covered his back on many battles. She thrust her hammer up obscenely and Grumpi took a moment to appreciate the movement of her chest as she did.

She caught him staring and, instead of reprimanding him as usual, returned him a sad smile, allowing him to take what little solace he could in the bounciness of her breasts while amidst all that death and hopelesness.

"Door is almost down," came a voice from the gate that fell a bit short of enthusiastic. The words broke the spell that kept Grumpi fascinated with his friend's attributes and he prepared to give it his all and, at least take a few of the foul things that crowded the keep down with him.