Grub stepped into the room, having left earlier to more properly contemplate Drizella, mother of Goblinkind, in the traditional pit of mud and filth. How shocked was she to find Rylass lying there in apparent pain! "Beloved elder!" She shouted in shock, "What is ailing you? You need water? Why did no one send for me?" She sighs in frustration, "I fear for the future of our people if they cannot rely on the priestesses of the Denmother..."
She places her pickaxe, the weapon that all Drizellan priestesses were trained in, to her side, and raises her holy symbol towards whatever nearby container she can find. With a whispered prayer, the container fills with pure, fresh water. She helps Rylass drink some, while also doing her best to treat whatever that was wrong and not related to old age, then stands and turns to the others in the room, furious.
"Where are the idiots who didn't come and get me?"
OOC: Casting Create Water. SCREW YOU DM! MUHUHUWAHAHA. :p
Also, performing a Heal check on Rylass...
[roll]1d20+7[/roll]