The characters in this story are part of the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game's campaign setting.
They were all surprised at how long the fight was going. It had started with a handful of ill-tempered giants but the commotion had attracted other beasts, and now the small band of adventurers were down to their last reserves of spells and strength. Not for the first time, Ezren marveled at Valeros' strength and stamina. How that man could keep hacking and chopping away at the brutes was almost beyond comprehension. Ezren was down to his last few spells and he dearly hoped that this was the last of the foes they would be facing anytime soon.
There were two left and Ezren recognized them as ogres. Hulking disgusting beasts; savage creatures who used raw size and strength to make their simple spears and clubs into powerful weapons. They had probably been attracted to the din of battle by thoughts of fresh meat, but now were likely regretting having found this fight. Pulling out the reserves of his magic, Ezren spoke some words and swirled his hands, ending the movement with a flourish pointed in the direction of the smaller of the pair. If he could help take the small one out, his companions fighting with their swords and axes could all concentrate on the tougher one instead of having to split their focus, and then, just maybe, they could be done with this bloody mess!
Five bursts of light flew from his fingers and struck true. The stupid thing was temporarily mesmerized by the bits of pulsing beams, then looked horrified as it realized too late it could not dodge these bits of deadly magic. Coupled with its already numerous injuries, the magical missiles were enough to take it down and Ezren allowed himself a sigh of relief. After decades of bloody experience, he was not the type to cast from close range where he could easily become a target, but the ogres had been focusing on the hand-to-hand combatants, and Ezren had let himself get drawn too far in. Before he had cast the spell, they hadn't seemed to noticed him, but now his flare-like flashes of magic had made his presence known. Before Ezren even had time to breathe the remaining ogre hefted a spear and flung it directly at the source of the light that had felled its mate. Ezren watched the spear hurtle toward him in an eerie slow motion, a blinding flash of pain seared through his body as the spear tore into his shoulder, sending him reeling backwards against a tree.
The distraction of aiming for the wizard had left enough of a gap in the monster's defenses to allow Valeros to end its existence with a swing of his sword that cleanly severed its head. Kyra watched as the creature's body tumbled to its knees and she felt a tremor at the impact of its massive body thudding to the ground. The air was eerily silent now that the clang of weapons and battle cries had ended. For a moment, the sounds of her heart beating and her own heavy breathing were all she could hear. She felt a stirring in the back of her mind. Her training kicking in, telling her to look to her companions. Immediately she sought out the fighters as they were usually the ones collecting the worst of the wounds. Valeros, Harsk, and Seelah were all still up, injured, but nothing serious. They would no doubt find her when they had finished ensuring the creatures they had just slain were truly dead. Lem, the little halfling bard was already scampering towards them, no doubt, eager to offer his assistance in finding anything worthwhile on the corpses. As she scanned the small clearing where the fighting had taken place, her eyes finally found the figure of Ezren. He was slumped against a tree on the edge of the clearing, slowly lowering himself to the ground.
Kyra furrowed her brow. Ezren usually kept a stoic look on his face—she had seen him take some nasty beatings without flinching—but now his face was creased with pain. Kyra rushed over to him and hissed as she saw the ragged hole the spear had torn through his shoulder. Ezren looked at her grimace and tried to make light of it, "If the cleric thinks it's bad, I must be doomed." She did not approve of this morbid humor. "Hold still," she directed him. She was weary from the battle, but this was not a wound that could wait. Kyra gently placed her hands on his shoulder, one hand just below the wound and the other directly over it. She could feel him wince in pain as her fingers brushed over the ruined flesh. With a brief wish that she could spare him this extra pain, she did what she had to do. Praying in earnest to Sarenrae, she begged the goddess' help in healing her companion. As the holy light filled her, she gathered it in her hand and felt the wonder of the healing pour through her. She felt a rush of energy and as she closed her eyes, she felt Ezren's heartbeat under her hands, the magic of her goddess magnifying it so that it was more than just feeling a pulse; she could feel his very life as it marched through his veins.
It never ceased to amaze Kyra how the muscles and tissue reconnected themselves, the magic knitting the skin and bones and muscle back to the way they should be. As she knelt next to Ezren with her hands pressed against the rapidly healing flesh, she felt him relax against her touch. Suddenly she became very aware of his nearness. She could not recall having been this close to him before, despite having adventured with him often over the past several years. She was certainly not the only one in the group who could heal, and the wizard was often able to keep out of melee combat where the worst physical wounds usually came from. As the last bit of skin reformed, she felt Ezren flex the shoulder beneath her fingers. His head tilted up and she was keenly aware that his weathered face was mere inches from hers. "Good as new," he said, his voice low and husky. Inexplicably, Kyra felt her own face warm, praying that he wouldn't notice. "Too bad I can't repair the clothes as well," she murmured fingered the ragged edges of his shirt.
Ezren lifted his hand to feel the torn edges of the cloth and in doing so, he felt his fingers brush against hers. He was surprised at the electric shock that coursed through him at the contact. He hoped his face remained impassive. "The fabric I can mend myself easily enough, but I cannot thank you enough for mending me."
Gah! As a wizard, I should be able to come up with smarter replies than that!
Ezren felt tongue-tied and unsure of what to say. An unusual experience.
"It was nothing! That's what friends are for!" Kyra said brightly. Immediately she felt like smacking herself in the head.
What a ridiculous thing to say!
With this thought she became intensely aware that her hands were still lying upon Ezren's chest and shoulder. She quickly removed her hands with such force that self-consciousness flooded her and her cheeks began to warm again. Abruptly she stood. "I should check on the others!" And spun and dashed away.
Ezren leaned back against the tree trunk and surveyed the thoughts and feelings rushing around in his head. This was not the first time he and Kyra had spoken, or that she had healed him. And yet that her presence had had an effect on him could not be denied. The feel of her hands against his skin had been electric and when he had touched her fingers.... He felt stirrings just thinking about it. He allowed himself a moment to consider the young cleric. Not that he could imagine anything going further than his own thoughts. After all, she had bolted after seeing to his wound. She was certainly a looker. Well, at least the parts of her that could be looked upon. Her long robes and armor left much to the imagination....
Although it felt as if the fighting had lasted ages, it was barely mid-afternoon when they arrived back at their camp. Ezren headed off to the nearby stream to wash the sweat and blood, and soak his bones in the cool, gently rippling waters. He reached the waters edge and stripped, setting his boots and pants aside, swishing the other bits of bloodied clothes around in the water to wash them out before the stains set. The stains of his own blood. Ezren sighed. As an experienced wizard, he really should be better at avoiding these wounds of the flesh. When he had done his best with the washing, he draped his shirt and cloak with their ragged holes over tree branches to dry in the sun.
He then attended to himself, meticulously scrubbing at dirt and dried blood. He found a good spot where he could close his eyes, breathe in and out slowly and let go of the tension the battle had brought. He visualized releasing the aches and pains into the water, letting the gentle current pull it away. When at last he felt peace returning to his bones he dunked his head under several times and worked his fingers through his long white hair, massaging his scalp and itching at his chin through his beard. It had been a good long while since he had visited a barber and had a professional trimming. He missed that feeling when he was out in the wilds like this. He wasn't one for outright pampering, but a good wash and trim felt amazing. As he let his mind gently wander, his thoughts turned to the Kyra and what it would be like to feel her hands running through his hair. The young cleric naked next to him, her warm skin pressed against his as her fingers explored his body. Her sleek honey-colored limbs wrapped around him. The feel of her breasts in his hands. Ezren stretched luxuriously in the water allowing himself to fantasize, a pleasure he did not usually indulge.
The sounds of rustling in the woods and the gruff and lyrical voices of the dwarf Harsk and halfling Lem roused him from his revelry. A few moments later they came into view, picking their way through the forest to arrive at the river's edge. Harsk, like Ezren, was bathing for the more practical reason of cleaning off dried blood, but in the hardy ranger's case, much of it no doubt from the giants. Lem seemed to just like splashing around in water, and given how delightful the current felt, rippling at Ezren's skin and how rare such a peaceful campsite was, he could certainly understand the bard's excitement.
He stood up in the water and looked down at the droplets as they cascaded from his naked skin back into the river. The sunlight seemed to highlight the multitude of scars on his body, far more than he was sure any decent wizard really ought to have. He sloshed over the to bank and pulled on his pants and boots as the other two stripped down. Lem danced cheerily over and poked him in the stomach. "Getting a bit thick around the middle!" It wasn't a new joke, and in the past Ezren had taken the ribbing lightheartedly, but this time he just sighed. He
was
