“ Oh dear, that wound does not look good” Hadlar whispered to himself as he looked at the rangers' injuries. A gauntleted hand placed itself upon his shoulder and ushered him aside. Removing his gauntlets the cleric placed his hands upon the rangers' wounds. Wisps of white light radiated from his hands as the cleric spoke gentle prayers to his god. The light lapped at the rangers wounds and before Handlars eyes they began to shrink. He had never been a religious man, in fact often opposed it. But today he felt blessed to witness his friend be saved.