The older man turns to you as you approach, and listens to your introduction. His eyes follow you slightly off frame, belying the strength of his vision. He holds his hands at his side, and they seem to be painfully clutched by arthritis. He responds to you with a warmth that is surprising;
“And so the light shines upon you, traveller, for you have found the mission dedicated to our dear Saint Caspieran. Tell me, how did you come to hear of our mission?” His speech is interrupted by a nasty, hacking cough. “There are many here who could use the touch of a healer, but I'm afraid the majority of pain and sickness is not of the body, but of the soul. I tend to what I can with my sermons and prayers, but this frail shell does not have much strength left. Jhonas here helps me with my charges, but I feel that Sarenrae does not speak through him as she does through me. Even still, her voice is but a whisper in my failing ears...a glorious whisper...”
A young, handsome man stands behind the old priest, his arms folded in reservation. A dirty child wearing a soiled dress looks up at Mordecai with large, fearful eyes. She clutches a dirty rag doll with a missing arm.