[i][center][h3][color=ed1c24]Patients and Oaths[/color][/h3][/center][/i]

The droning of the ogryn was tuned out by Azazel, he no longer cared about anything the occupants were saying to actually listen. It had been... years since he had a proper laboratory and med bay, and now he was in one. Sure it'd need a few changes... personal touches... but he could finally get to work again... the blades sang to him even now. His Narthecium arm shook in anticipation as he examined the state of the heresy era medical bay and its attendant equipment. The Apothecary seemed lost as his students ghosted behind him similarly lost, old memories all coming back of their times using far steadier blades. Back when they were free off the battlefield to experiment... test... the Apothecaries helm turned swiftly back to the still un-moving Dark Angel. He let his HUD detail to him just how the marine was dying, where every wound was and its severity, the likelihood of survival without medical attention and, most importantly, where improvements could be made.

He looked at the less damaged unarmored marine who had so brasly challenged Azael, "[i][color=ed1c24]Time is of the essence my friend. I assure you the Dark Angel [b]is[/b] dying. He will die if I do not intervene, and with all this...[/color][/i]", he gestured about, able to think clearly with his blood lust subdued by his wish to utilize this new laboratory, "[i][color=ed1c24]equipment I assure you I [b]can[/b] save him. You see, currently he is actually liable to bleed out. Laraman's Organ was either damaged in our previous engagement, or is simply overtaxed by the sheer number of serious wounds. His blood is not clotting and scar tissue is not forming fast enough. At the current rate he will be beyond saving in approximately five terran minutes due to loss of blood.
 Normally simply pathcing his wounds could save him but serious nerve damage  may have ovvured, not to mention the sever levels of trauma his body is currently fighting. He has taken enough damage to send a marine into [b]shock[/b]. That alone is impressive. Shrapnel wracks his body and if I don't seal his wounds, repair or un-obstruct his Laramans organ and remove as much shrapnel as I can he is going to die...[/color][/i]"

He chuckled lightly and walked over to Xepherial, hoisting the marine over his shoulder with a loud grunt. He looked at Thron and his contempt was potent beneath his eye lenses, "[i][color=ed1c24]Stop me now and he will die. And then you will die. Now if you'll excuse me I have... work to do...[/color][/i]", he let out a shaking breath of excitement as he placed Xepherial on the nearest operating table. What followed was nothing but vox clicks between the red marines, all clustered over Xepherials body.

The three fallen apothecaries first discussed what they would need to stop him form dying, a 10 second conversation. Next came 130 seconds of contemplation of what 'enhancements' were best. Then another 20 seconds of the three ensuring all nearbye supplies were in working and sterile order. All in all, there was just over 60 seconds left before the marine reached a point of no return. Only then, did the apothecary begin to work. There was no need yet for anestesia, the subject was unable to move. Azazel's fingers seemed to move like precise lightning strikes, cutting away armor and flesh, coagulant and needle's flying across xepherials skin and inside his ruined chest cavity. The Marines helm was removed by his pupil with two arms while the other removed Xepherials chestplate.

Vitality monitors were already hooked into the marine and were already starting to stabilize within seconds. But Azazel never slowed down. Needle, scalpel and narthecium moved in unison, never staying still. Vox clicks announced when the surgeons would speak, sometimes leading to passed tools and other times simple nods or shakes of the head. Their eyes never lifted from Xepherial's body. About two minutes in, Xeph would start to come to, but before he could react a needle slipped into his neck. It was a large needle from a small leather pouch on Azazel's hip. He couldn't move a muscle, going totally limp and unable to move any part of him... and suddenly there would be pain. He could feel every stich, every cut and every prod like fire under his skin it was so intense. blood flow had long slowed to manageable but still it covered his chirugeons hands as they clicked like excited crows, particularly Azaze'ls Corvus pattern helm clicked and nodded like the clever birds. Suddenly several leather bags and pouches were deposited onto the table by the pupils. Strange metallic objects were drawn from them, along with more common but... crude implements. Bone saws and sutures, hideously spike forceps and clamps. Suddenly the clicking was constant as the implements were utilized or attached. Bones pulled away to attatch strange cybernetic implements to organs or muscles and bone, each one being put in place with excruciating agony. Yet Xeph could neither close his eyes nor pass out, the drug flowing thtough his system ensuring he was completely awake and helpless, his nerve centers tortured with every passing second.

The red gauntlets of the marines were stained darker as they worked for what felt like an eternity. finally the clicking birds seemed satisified and started to sow the marine back up.

Another needle jammed into Xeph's neck and suddenly it was all dark again. Senses dulled, unable to see his pain was a distant pang, felt but not fully experienced. And suddenly it all seemd to shake, like an earth quake in his own mind.

Azazel had moved up to his skull, using saw and forceps and clamps he split open the marines head and suddenly the three were completely quiet. They seemed to have some kind of... lazer like focus on Xepherial, and Azazel's work on his skull. This lasted twenty minutes, the rest had lasted less than seven. Azazel breathed heavily as he cut and sowed and attached, careful and precise with every movement as he rooted around in the marines skull. Then... he just stopped and started closing him up. Silently his aides reattached Xepherials damaged armor as azael cleaned up blood and messy stitching. Finally, he let out an aubible, content sigh. He looked up at the room, and finally removed his helmet. His face was in a rictus grin, teeth flashed gratuitously, "[i][color=ed1c24]The work is done... he will live... [b]much, much[/b] longer he will live.[/color][/i]"

The back of Xepherials skull was covered in strange machinery, mainly around the base of his skull. Runes and clear vials were displayed prominently as wires ran into the back of his scalp in thick cabling. Another successful surgery.