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A golden light materialized around the lacerations in the dwarf’s leg, slowly mending the torn tendons inside and straightening his awkwardly twisted bones. Despite the process of Dravol’s successful spell, however, the dwarf reeled in pain, tears pouring from his eyes as he screamed for Cetheron to end it all. For as much as the dracon’s magic was healing his patient, it also pained him during the procedure too. Luckily for him, though, the dwarf’s friends continued to pin him down, watching with evident admiration as the wounded Zerdargian’s leg gradually appeared normal, almost normal.
“Gee, doc, mighty fine spell ya have there,” One of the dwarves said, chuckling and punching his adjacent buddy on the shoulder, “See? I told you them Paxians had themselves a good healer.”
The punched dwarf merely wiggled his tongue out in response, but his lighthearted demeanor faded as one of the dwarves cried out that their wounded friend was unconscious, his eyes closing tightly and his body suddenly going limp. “Doc! What’s happening!?” one of them shrieked.
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