# Pastebin e16NjVJH
The herbal anesthetic, combined with the numbing venom of a certain Lunaeidae appeared to do their work well, for despite the work of steel in his flesh, the dwarf moved not a whit. Carefully removing them from the dwarf's shoulders, Koz put his hands to better use. Taking up a square of cloth in one hand and a set of forceps clamped around a curved bone needle in the other, the shaman took a slow, deep breath as he watched her. The forceps would be a little small for his thick-fingered hands, but they'd decided before she'd begun that he could make them work. When she pulled the plain iron of the barbed ring from the incision, he moved in quickly behind her, exhibiting the finesse with which he could apply his own abilities. He made no effort to close the wound with his magic, but the instant Llaruna pulled the iron clear of the wound, the wily shaman constructed bridges of guiding air which allowed the blood surging from the larger severed vessels to remain within the circulatory system. He simultaneously drew upon water and air to draw up what blood lay pooled in the wound and clear it with a vacuous hissing as he went to work with surprisingly dexterous hands. The blood drew up out of the wound into a floating fist-sized globule which hovered clear of the dwarf's exposed neck before dropping into the bucket beside the table where the bloody towels of the rest of the procedure had been thrown. He pointedly avoided noticing Ahara's accusatory glare and Llaruna's subtly expressed outrage. It wasn't as though he'd used healing magic. Nor had he used magic to induce sleep. His people's reasons for aptitude with suturing were somewhat different than perhaps Llaruna's, but he was quick with the needle. He began with the smaller vessels, his stitches fine enough to rejoin the vessels so that none of the dwarf's blood permeated them. Similarly, his work on the dwarf's airway was fine and delicate. When he finally began to close the wound itself, he used a whipstitch that looked hasty and loose at first, but as he drew the thread tight the wound closed evenly, and the orc had made as few stitches as he could to keep it closed. In a matter of short minutes, the orc was looping knots into the trailing end of the thread tight against the dwarf's skin. With a final tightening tug, he cut the trailing end and straightened from his work. His regard moved between the two disapproving women, but his fiercely stoic expression was unchanging. "What?"