The situation was escalating quickly to say the least, then again peaceful negotiations were never this small group of misfits' forte. As his comrades readied the battle field; brandishing their blades, lining up their arrows, and even raising stone walls in defense, Shok's attention was fully engrossed with his new patient. The Tal-Vashoth had since ripped the young man's shirt off and had turned him onto his side in order to examine the wound better. [color=gray][b]"Severe blood loss, possible broken ribs, no sign of current infection..."[/b][/color] Shok rattled off to himself as he began to clean the site with a view of the elixirs he had pulled from his satchel.

  Shok sensed that the impending battle was only drawing closer and closer as he felt the tension build in the air, Ovra's and the magister's words were both filled to the brim with venom as they had their exchange. Shok's hands moved in a blur as they danced between the young man's body and his own little assortment of remedies. [color=gray][b]"The bolt hasn't punctured any vital organs. Extraction should be possible-"[/b][/color] Shok's self monologue was cut short with the elegant exclamation from his fearless leader that truly set off the powder keg that had been brewing between the two groups.

  A battle field is less than the ideal place to try and treat the wounded, but in his current line of work Shok had found that in many cases there was no other time to provide aid seeing as the patient may not make it to the end of the fight. The heat of battle was always intense, lives were wiped from this plain in the matter of moments, and this one was no different. As Shok continued to prep his patient he listened to the once high and mighty magister gurgle on her own blood and fall off of her mount, the final breaths of a severely over paid mercenary as he made the futile attempt to pull a dagger from his own heart, and the panic that flooded over the mercenary band's horses as a wave of mystic energy was washed over them. Despite all of this chaos Shok never faltered in his work, well until his patient woke up.

  Shok had to admit that the question took him a bit off guard, he had been called everything from a simple freak to an otherworldly abomination, but never had he been called the Maker. Luckily though he was able to regain himself and focus on the situation. [color=gray][b]"Hallucinations, possibly do to the combination of blood loss and head injury."[/b][/color] He said as he moved his hand to the actual bolt stuck in the man's side. Shok paused for a moment and he looked down to the young man who was weakly reaching up to him. [color=gray][b]"I am sorry, but no I am not your Maker. Now please hold still."[/b][/color] With that Shok pulled the bolt from the young man's side and quickly replaced with layers of tight bandaging. [color=gray][b]"Deep breaths should help with the pain..."[/b][/color] Shok added, knowing that a wave of pain had just washed over the young man.


  Before he could provide any more aid Shok noticed a blur race pass his ear. It took him a few moments to realize that it was a crossbow bolt that had just narrowly missed his head. [color=gray][b]"Bothersome..."[/b][/color] Shok said, the annoyance almost visible in his words, as he turned his head to find the mercenary that had just attempted to make his head a pincushion. Shok sneered slightly as he outstretched his hand and frost began to resonate from his fingers, moments later a spike of ice was launched from the mage's palm and sent sailing across the battlefield. The mercenary was in the mists of reloading his crossbow when the shard of ice embedded itself into his chest, piercing straight through his right lung. He gasped and gurgled in pain as he fell from his mount, this would not be a slow death for him. Shok watched with an expression twice as cold as the frost on his hands as the man squirmed on the floor before he looked back to his patient. [color=gray][b]"Where was I..."[/b][/color]