Ursaren winced as he felt the fireball singe his clothes and skin, but he quickly stared back towards the assailant that threw the fireball and simply laughed. He had felt the fire of dragons against his beard before, this was merely a sting compared to that! Ursaren rushed forward towards the sorceress before he saw her figure fade away, along with the other elf that proved to be a nuisance in this area. As shameful as it was for Ursaren to admit, it was likely for the best that he didn't continue on. He wasn't exactly what he was before, even if he had tasted the flaming passion of a dragon's breath.

The old man kneeled down on the ground, raising his hand to his wound as he winced again, the flesh weaving back onto itself like a knit blanket. He was definitely running out of juice at this point, what with the healing and the transformations. He needed a bit of a break if he was going to continue, or else he'd have more than just a burn on his chest. 

Glancing over his comrades, he decided that he was the man who got the most damage inflicted, so he deserved the healing the most. He wouldn't mind passing it up onto someone else, but he really did need to handle himself before others, as painful as it was to be selfish.[b]"Is everyone alright?"[/b] the old man questioned as he noticed the one remaining Dorcha among the crowds, moving over towards the 'prisoner' carefully as to not make his wounds any worse. After all, he was just patching it up for the time being. He already spent his good spells on his allies, and he was more fond of potions in any case.

Ursaren gazed at the Dorcha before he simply smiled and returned to tending to his injuries. He felt something about her, though he didn't know what that was exactly. Maybe it was fake? Maybe it wasn't. Only time could tell.