"Maker's breath, I can't say I blame you for the fowl mood then." He can barely imagine waking up in such a state, in a completely alien place just lost in a fog that makes you sick.

"Apologies I can't seem to do much more for your state, at the moment. I'm not sure how far my magics will last us and I'm trying to preserve the energy. At least you should be feeling somewhat more energized for the time being." He has some potions, but at this rate, he'd rather save them for an emergency. Who knows when he could find some or make some again.

"And as far as sick sons of bitches go, I have had my fair share." His father is the first to come to mind of course, but Corypheus is certainly up there, among others.

"Sorry, I'm Dorian, by the way. I suppose this sort of situation is easy to forget your manners."