Elta sighs, The warrior type....so reckless...and so painfully hard to resist. Usually with -some- semblance of misplaced honor or duty....they were pretty adorable.  She continues to inspect the wound.<span style="color: orange"><b> "Yeah. That ain't going to be happening. There are ways to slow someone even as threatening as you down with out causing permanent harm." </b></span><br/><br/>The clerics fingers start to glow with a pale white light,<span style="color: orange"><b> " Better to make it a non issue while you're still all hopped up then later when you can feel the pain more freely. So hold still.." </b></span>Elta starts to chant again,the light from her fingers starting to float and glow. The light encompasses the wounds and starts to seal them shut.<br/><br/>Elta tries to distract her self from lingering thoughts of the exceptionally powerful fighter.  She  was no slouch her self, but even with her giant size...there was something intoxicating about a woman that commanded such unapologetic power...<br/><br/>(Healing-Cure Moderate Wounds)<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>