Korsarro stood for a moment, torn between saving a blind drunkard and a dying knight. He tried not to laugh as he realised that his true passion was in fact using flesh to save the lives of Temple-goers. He nudged his foot against the knights breastplate "I've never armour like this" He turned to the other monk next to him "Keep an eye on Zato while I weave this premium flesh back into good health... or slightly better health. Maybe." Korsarro pries the knights armour from him in each spot he is hurt and gets to work, slicing flesh from the leg approximately the size of each wound with a practiced and slamming it into the corresponding wounds with precision. He stares at his work satisfied... Until the bleeding continues, he looks around, to each monk "DAMNIT MONKS, IM A TANNER NOT A DOCTOR.". Panicking ever so slightly now that combat seemed to be upon the cramped room Korsarro quickly cut long thin strips from the leg, wrapping them around each filled in wound. This is a terrible idea. A terrible idea indeed. The flesh-bandages were still only half-practical, and Korsarro dared not risk removing the chunks he had already inserted.