Chrisor is having an unusually bad day, even by his standards. From a certain perspective, Chrisor's life has been an endless series of bad days, until he goes to Hell and will finally be surrounded by people who DO THEIR FUCKING JOBS.
A patrol in Lastwall got unexpectedly eaten by demons (typical) and to cover it soldiers were reassigned here and there and the other place, and by some contrivance of Asmodeus intended to torture Chrisor out of his last remaining shreds of weakness he is stuck in a medtent, armed with Cure Light Wounds and a basic knowledge of field medicine, with a cleric of Iomedae and one of Cayden fucking Cailean.
It's because he's the only divine caster who is minimally competent enough to not defect the second he exchanges three sentences with a representative of Good. This does not make him feel better.