[b]Mitunbaal Vasiliou[/b]

Following the cries for help as the guns fell silent, Mitunbaal hurried into the increasingly crowded cabin. Her breathing was labored from a dash, though she carried herself well once she slowed down to cross the threshold. The patient serenity painted a stark contrast between Zoe's panic as she quietly entered.

"Your pardon, Gentlemen and Lady, but I've some practice with this sort of affair." she said as she pushed through to get a better view at Aden's wounded arm. Without waiting for much of a response as she watched his clothing slowly soak with blood, she deftly drew her dagger. First to be cut was the jacket, and the heavy fabric gave some resistance before eventually falling loose. The shirt underneath was more rapidly soaking with blood, and Mitunbaal give a deep sigh as she removed her gloves.

"We can resew that later, if the Private Robertson prefers," she added, almost as an after thought, before cutting Aden's his shirt sleeve. 

The gunshot had torn through the flesh of the private's right arm, ripping through his upper triceps and nearly severing the tendon. Blood flowed alarmingly free down Aden's arm. She placed her hands around both the entrance and exit wounds and held them tight as her palms quickly grew wet, warm, and sticky. 

"Dawnbringer," she said, clearly unbothered by the gore "This most humble servant asks that you repair this man's moral body with your light, so that he may protect our from the forces of atheistic devilry that plague us in our day.

The Shariq's hands gave a warm light, and the wounds underneath her hands slowly started knitting themselves back together...