As the bandit rushes toward Guillame, so too does Muadhnait - seeking to create less space so that she might command the bandit to her will.
Once within proximity, her hand swipes through the air as though to knock the weapon from his hands - despite not being near enough to do so. "Drop," she commands.
Assuming he's forced to comply, she would then tell Guillame to take his weapon. "They're to die by sword or rope," she would add firmly, "as decreed by our charters." Lawful good, right?
The bandit before Guillame stops his attack, looks down at his sword and then opens his hand and lets it fall to the ground.
Joyous Storm eyes the woman before her who clearly means harm to her companion and his friends. She feels the gentle pressure at her flanks as his heels echo her desire and urge her to close with the woman and, with a fiery pleasure, hears the words, "Lightning! Rain!"
She rears and almost 2,000 pounds of muscle, bone, and jingling rings of steel rise above the woman, who seems frozen in indecision. Then the warhorse brings her full weight inexorably downward.
Kressel looks up in terror as the warhorse comes crashing down on her, landing a hoof on her chest, expunging the air from her in a blast, then the bite lands on her arm and crunches bone. In an instant she is slammed to the ground and loses consciousness, blood dripping from her mouth.
Guillame grimaces in pain, clutching at his wound. He swiftly seizes up the bandit's dropped sword, confident (overconfident?) that his opponent is not skilled at unarmed combat.
"The mademoiselle is right. Death by rope or sword." Guillame muses ruefully to the bandit. "Lucky for you, my rope is with my horse, and I have no ..."
Guillame pauses dramatically, gaping and arching his eyebrows, looking from face to face of all nearby, and playing up his mock surprise.
"What a fool is Guillame, e'!? Here is a sword, right here in my hand!'
Guillame's affectations drop, and with a sneering grimace he stabs at the bandit's belly, hoping to spill his guts.
The last bandit standing takes the sword to his stomach, which he grasps and then screams out in pain, slumping to ground.
From underneath the tree stand, Crytalis watches helplessly as Colin's horse destroys her latest toy. For a moment there is a look of rage, raw and pure, upon her face. It is a fleeting look, however, gone the moment she realizes that the battle is done and they have won.
She springs from her spot and runs towards Colin. She comes across Brumir first and impetuously flings her arms around him in a quick squeak of a hug. A hug far more from the child than the woman. "We did it! Oh you were amazing the way you killed the man atop the tree!" she bubbles happily before continuing her rush to Colin.
And there is Joyous Storm, the toy crunching beast. With Colin still on her back. Crytalis' rush is halted, abruptly, and instead she drops down beside Kressel. She dips her head, holding her ear over the woman's mouth to check for breath. When it comes, weak and shallow, Crytalis smiles.
She stands once more and surveys the area, counting. "I thought there were to be nine? Do you think Happs lied, or are more to come?" she looks back down to Kressel, nudging her with her toe.
"Maybe there is one we can ask, one in better shape than sweet Kressel."
Colin dismounts from Joyous Storm with a clanging thud and kneels down to join Crytalis at the fallen bandit leader.
"Thank Erastil you're safe, Cry," he says to her and places an assuring hand upon her shoulder.
Then he looks to bind Kressel's wounds using her own garments. He calls over to Muadhnait and Guillame, "We should try to keep them alive if we can!"
If no one else assists (or prevents him), Colin moves from one dying bandit to the next closest, seeking to stop the bleeding.
If these are needed, here's a bunch. Include the +1 for using Heal on another.
Guillame idles around the campsite, poking around in the pockets of the unconscious, and prodding bushes and rocks with his bow, to see if he can shake loose a hidden cache of tobacco. By turns he smiles and nods with satisfaction at the scene of victory, and grimaces as he tries to staunch his wound.
When he notices Colin tending the fallen, Guillame calls out to him. "Colin! I think you waste your time, e'? Death by rope or sword for these fellows. You gave them chance to change their ways. A good chance - we should all be so lucky to have a chance like this! To take them back for the trial, the judging, the hanging, the more justice... Is a lot more justice than they deserve, non?"
Colin successfully stanches the bleeding of each bandit, preventing any of them from dying. Guillame finds the following loot among the unconscious bodies and around the campsite:
From the bandits (all together)
(4) leather armors
(4) longbows
(64) arrows
(4) short swords
(8) days trail rations
(40) gold pieces
From Kressel
unidentified potion
studded leather armor
(2) masterwork handaxes
(4) daggers (the fourth of which is on the ground by the western tree stand)
85 gold pieces
Beneath the eastern tree stand, Guillame spots a stash of supplies:
(10) days trail rations
firewood
(5) tents
Underneath the more mundane supplies, there appears to be the bandits spoils:
(321) silver pieces
(90) gold pieces
a pair of silver earrings
a wooden music box
(3) crates of furs and hides
Inside a polished wooden case there is:
(8) bottles of potent greenish herbal liqour
Colin calls over to Guillame, as he finishes bandaging the last bandit, "I won't let someone, any person, die if I can prevent it. The heat of battle is one thing. Standing and watching as they bleed to death... that is a cruelty. Besides, two of them did not even need my aid. Am I to cut their throats? If there are two prisoners, there might as well be five."
He notes Guillame's activity. "Did you find a wedding band by any chance? It belongs to Svetlana."
"No, no wedding band. Is good idea then to keep some alive, we wake them up and ask them." says Guillame in reply to Colin's question.
Guillame then sidles over to Muadhnait, shaking his head slowly, lips pursed, one eyebrow arched, as if pondering one of life's great questions.
"We need a sage to answer this one, I think mademoiselle." he says to her quietly, out of Colin's earshot. "Sir Courneye say: is cruel to stab a man when his eyes are closed. I say: is more cruel to stab him when his eyes are open! Because it hurt, non? Colin say: is less cruel to take the prisoner and keep them and maybe hang them later. I say: is more cruel, with the waiting for death, the fear, the bad food, the dirty clothes... you are a seer, non? A wise one? What do you say, e'?"
Muadhnait's responding words come quick and precise. "The punishment for unrepentant banditry remains, as always, execution by sword or rope," she says, reciting the charter as though having memorized it word for word. It's likely that she has.
Crytalis' flits around the camp, at times aiding Colin, at time aiding Guillame. Eventually she sits, holding the music box to her ear as she hums along to the tune.
Her attention is pulled from the trinket though at Colin's words. Setting the box back with the rest she makes her way to Colin's side, kneeling beside him to cup his face with her hand. "My love, we are entrusted to dispense justice. You gave them a chance to throw down their arms and surrender. Their refusal is their confession. Now the task of dispensing that justice falls to us. By sword or rope." she pauses to nod in acknowledgement of Muadhnait's words.
"It is not only mercy to make that justice swift as possible, but we also can not task Oleg and Svetlana with the burden of housing them. We must be quick in returning to them, lest the missing bandits be even now at their gates." she turns her eyes to the bandit on the platform. "One will have to wake, to give us answers as to where the missing ones might be, should they exist."
"Perhaps I can heal him to the point of waking, if Muadhnait can tend to Guillame. Their crimes were their choice, there can be no other end for them save death. We can make it one of compassion."
Colin's alarmed expression turns from one face to the next as he hears the arguments against him. For a minute he merely opens and closes his mouth and doesn't speak.
Then he turns aside and says fairly quietly, "You don't even know who they are."
He holds a hand towards Brumir, "What if Brumir had resisted your spell, Cry? Then he would have just been another one of them. And yet, he is a good man, we've seen."
He turns toward Muadhnait and says, "He is repentant and has the rest of his life to do good with it. He said he was forced to join them or die. Maybe he will raise children that he'll teach to do good."
Finally, he speaks to Guillame. "One moment can have effects across multiple lifetimes. If no one wants to be slowed down in returning to the Trading Post with these men and women who are, right now, alive, and will continue to live if one of us does not kill them in cold blood, then I'll take them myself. I have all the time in the world. There is supposed to be a contingent of soldiers coming, the help that Oleg and Svetlana are expecting."
He finishes, finally, speaking again to Crytalis, the color has risen to his cheeks but he does not speak in anger. "You are right. I won't burden them. I'll stay with the prisoners or take them on to Restov myself if the troops do not come."
Guillame's expression shifts throughout Colin's speech.
At first he is annoyed. He crinkles up his face as if he has inhaled a bad odor, and surreptitiously tries to catch Muadhnait's eye, using his hand to mime the mouth of someone yapping on and on and on. As Colin talks about Brumir, Guillame colors a little, as if a little ashamed, and drops his quiet mocking. Eventually, his blush turns into a rueful smile.
"Woh! Is a fine speech, e'?" says Guillame to one and all, looking for agreement. "In Restov, I heard a priest of Sarenrae speak about the compassion and the dedication, and I do not think he spoke it better!"
Guillame approaches Colin to clap him on the shoulders, in a friendly manner.
"You have convinced Guillame, Colin! We have all the time, as you say. What is one more chance at the redemption for them, or for us? Nothing, that is what. So we go slow, we take the prisoner, Guillame will help. I'll drink to that!"
Turning to stand to one side of Colin, with his hands still around Colin's shoulders, and his face out of Colin's sight, Guillame checks for agreement with his fellows. He arches his eyebrows high, as if to say "Let's let this one go, e'?"
Crytalis steps away from Colin at Guillame's approach. His speech does not inspire guilt...or ire, but a resigned sort of acceptance. "Yes, of course you are right, Colin. We shall see them healed and off to Restov."
She slips away to scrounge up a length of rope, probably sliced from a tent, and quietly climbs the ladder to the top of the platform and the bandit there. She carefully ties him up, tight as can be, before trying to rouse him.
The green liquor is strong but mundane, and tastes of licorice, anise and perhaps several other herbs or plants that are difficult to identify.
Brumir nods in silent agreement to Colin's argument. Then sets about helping Crytalis bind the bandits arms and legs with rope.
Colin straightens, seemingly buoyed up by the votes of confidence from Crytalis, Brumir, and especially Guillame. He does not notice any subtlety in the gesture.
"Thanks," he says. "I'm glad we're doing the right thing. Even though some of us have just met, it's good to start out united."
He then announces he'll go collect the horses and be back shortly.
Guillame offers some of the green liquor around to the rest of the group. "Is like the 'Huntmaster' drink we have at home, e' But is green instead of brown. À votre santé! Oof, is strong, non?"
Guillame amiably wanders further afield, sipping strong liquor, and looking for tracks.
The most recent tracks that Guillame finds are likely from the present bandits. He also finds countless older tracks of similar boots, indicating that the bandits have been here for at least a week, and may have had more in number at an earlier time.
Guillame also finds the tracks of at least three of a smaller creature having been in the camp about a day ago.
Certainly, the tracks are Small sized but not from an animal. They are also not from vermin, unless it is a large vermin that walks on two legs. Most likely it is a fey, but it is unclear what kind exactly. The feet are three toed, with a long, curved toenail. They leave the camp, more deeply imprinted, and head south-east through the woods.
Colin returns and pickets the horses at the camp. He declines the offer of the liqueur for now, it seeming too early in the morning. He has, however, been nibbling on yesterday's venison since retrieving the horses for second breakfast.
"Cry, he asks, "Can you make anything out of that potion that Kressel had? Does it look like our healing potions?"
He asks after Guillame's health, considering the stab wound, as well.
"My health?" says Guillame, poking at his wound and grimacing a little. "Is kind of you to ask Colin, but really, is a small wound. Look, it stop bleeding already. A few days I will be well again. Besides, I have this magic potion here!"
Guillame swills more of the green liquor.
After a few more drinks, Guillame boozily gestures at the muddy ground with his bow.
"Observe these everyone, e'" he says, poking his bow at the tracks. "Strange tracks through this camp, going southeast. Gnomes are small, but have more than three toes ... Perhaps ... I think I was wrong about the thieving gnome before! It was the thieving fey! They too like to play the tricks. Thieving fey with the poor hygiene - look this one needs to cut his nail, non?"
Guillame considers the tied up prisoners. "I suppose we get our apology from the dirty fey another time, e'? South east is not the way to the trading post." He spits for good measure, as if to say "We let you off lightly this time."
Crytalis looks up from poking at one of the poor bandit's eyes, probably in the hopes of making it open, and nods agreeably to Colin. Before she makes it to the potion though she stops beside Guillame, eager to take him up on the offer of the green liquor.
She sniffs at the bottle before taking a good sized swig of it. Her eyes flare wide as she splutters and swallows, her throat working the liquid down finally. A short cough is immediately followed by laughter which, in turn, is followed by a much more confident swig of the spirits.
Holding the bottle back out to Guillame, her other hand comes up briefly to rest on his shoulder, companionably. "Well that certainly improved my outlook on things." she says, patting at him gratefully. "No wonder people are so very fond of it." Before removing her hand to crouch closer to the mud he seems so fascinated with, she mumbles a quick chant. The tingling in her fingers, along with her covert sneakiness, makes her giggle once more.
She sobers a bit as she studies the tracks he pokes at, even nodding sagely down at them a few times as he talks. "It looks cute whatever it is, what darling little toes." she uses a stick to poke at them as well. "Do you think it a friendly thing? Perhaps it can join us too!"
After using his arm to tug herself back in the standing position she sweeps over to the pile of stuff and digs out the potion which she proceeds to study, while humming.
The potion is indeed similar to the ones they already have, a Potion of Cure Light Wounds
Brumir brings the bandit down from the tree stand, and arranges him, along with the rest in a line under the trees between the camp and the path. They are each just out of arms reach of one another, laying on the ground with their arms and legs tied.
After an hour, none of them regain consciousness. Brumir keeps a watchful eye, resting against a nearby tree stump cleaning off his blade and eating a handful of nuts and berries, as well as some dried venison.
Brumir stands and sheathes his falchion, then dusts the crumbs from his clothes and armor. He finds Colin and says "Got something I want to talk to you about." His brow is furrowed and one side of his lip is curled slightly, revealing a large, pointed front tooth.
Colin turns from watching Crytalis scamper about with a smile of adoration to look at Brumir.
"What's on your mind?" he asks with a smile. "I forgot to say so, but that was great work before. Those bandits didn't know what hit them! I'm glad you're on our side!"
He pats Brumir on the shoulder with a warm familiarity. "All of us here, I think we're really going to do some good."
Brumir's curled lip turns into a grin as he looks over at their defeated enemies laying motionless, but it's only a moment before the grin shifts into a frown. He turns back to Colin. "About all this. Your companions and what you're out to do. And her," He nods his head towards Crytalis. "I know Crytalis put some spell on me and that it brought me around. I'm glad for that, though. You did me a real favor not taking me down back at Oleg's. And I thought by coming out here and helping you with these scum, I might have paid you back. And I see now what you're trying to do, but..." Brumir grows sullen then. Although he appears older than Colin, in this moment it's obvious that his age is truly not much more, if at all. "The reason I left New Stetven was to get away from this kind of life. Thievery and paypack. I hoped that things would be more simple out here. That I could find a way to live that wasn't at the edge of a sword." He pats his falchion in it's sheathe. "Maybe I can't."
He shakes his head. "Anyway, if you see us as even, I'd like to go my own way."
"Oh," Colin says, taken aback and a little deflated. "Oh. I see."
He takes a moment to look out to where the trees thin out near the river. "Brumir, you never needed to make yourself even. I'm glad you did, mind you. Very glad."
"When Cry and I left Restov, we didn't imagine we'd be hunting down bandits. That just happened because there was a need to protect Oleg and Svetlana. I mean... we'd heard there were bandits, but we're here mostly to explore, and maybe one day make it a place where people would like to go to make a new start."
He looks Brumir in the eye and says, "People like you, Brumir."
Colin takes off his gauntlet to offer the half-orc his hand. "I think I speak for Cry as well in saying that we would love to have you at our side as we come to grips with what dangers and opportunities there are out here in the Greenbelt but of course you need to do what you feel is right and best for yourself. We'll miss you, but I'm sure we'll see you again somewhere. I hope you'll start that new life here."
Brumir reaches and clasps Colin's hand. He looks him in the eyes and nods affirmingly. "You've already given me a new start. I won't forget it. If we meet again, and you could use my help, I'll give it"
He turns to Crytalis. "Dunno if it's that magic still lingering, but you're something else. Keep each other on a tight leash. Hate to find your corpses out here. But I think if you two stick together you'll get your way. Make a place for us all." He holds out his hand to her.
Crytalis looks entirely mutinous for a moment, her mind whirling for a way to prevent the half-orc from leaving. After considering and discarding several scenarios she finally ignores his hand to fling her arms around him in another quick hug. "You shall always have a place with us, Brumir. I meant what I said back at the fort, even if I flavored it with the spell." She steps back and melts herself into Colin's side.
Brumir gives a respectful nod to Guillame, and then makes his way off into the woods, leaving the group with their now-prisoners, still laying unconscious on the dirt.
After another hour, three of the bandits stir and cough themselves awake. As they realize their situation, they struggle against the ropes to no avail. Kressel and the other remain unconscious.
Muadhnait is coaxed awake by the bandits' coughing, apparently having dozed herself - though, for different reasons entire. She debates probing one of their minds, but decides it best to wait until their thoughts are more aligned to things they wish to know. Perhaps she could question them - or she could wait for someone else to. She remains silent with her thoughts, pushing herself into a more dignified position.
Crytalis, who has been merrily making her way through a bottle of liquor, lets out a exclamation of delight and hums her happy way over to the nearest bandit. She plops down beside him and pulls his head into her lap. With one hand she lifts the bottle of liquor to his lips. "This will make everything better." she assures him. "Take that edge off the pain for when I start cutting." Her other hand smooths back his hair comfortingly.
She sets the bottles aside and reaches for the pouch at her side. "I'm am going to practice on your eyes. But you must hold very still or I might cut beyond it into your mind." Her words slur slightly. She pulls her roll of tools from her pouch, her bone carving kit, and sets it on the man's chest - unrolling it to reveal her sharp little knives of many sizes.
Her slim fingers tip-toe over the blades, finally picking up the smallest of them all. "For precision work." she giggles out at him, tapping the flat of the small thin blade against his nose. She starts to lower it, but halts her hand, shaking her head as if to clear it. "Oh, silly me, we had questions for you. Would you like to do that first?"
At some point during her little speech she tries to catch the other's eyes, to reassure them with a wink or a blink that she is not quite that twisted...yet.
Colin's reaction to Crytalis is at first a little alarmed but then he realizes that she is just joking to trick the bandits.
He helps the other two conscious bandits to their feet one at a time, and walks them out of earshot to two separate locations. "You probably won't want to see or hear this," he says, grimly.
Then he asks Muadhnait and Guillame if each one would like to speak to one of the other bandits. "Maybe if they all give the same answer separately, we'll know if they are speaking the truth," he suggests. "I think Happs played us somewhat false but it all turned out all right."
(edited to add)
Guillame reaches for his wound, ready to grunt and groan and fish for sympathy. He is a greatly puzzled, and then slightly annoyed, to find it gone. He looks with suspicion at the liquor he's been quaffing.
When he catches Crytalis's wink, it only takes a moment for him to join in. He holds his hands up and backs away, feigning fear.
"Oh no! Mademoiselle Crytalis, is too much for Guillame, e'? These ones look stubborn. They will endure much mutilation before they answer the questions, non? I cannot bear the screams, the blubbing. These things make my dreams full of the terreur!"
Guillame shakes his head emphatically, and wags a finger at the captured bandit.
"What value in the pride, e'? Think on that." he says to the bandit, and spits for emphasis. "I cannot bear to be here. I will keep watch. Out of earshot."
Guillame shudders, and stalks off north.
The bandit looks up at Crytalis with weary, frightened eyes. "D-dont! What do you want to know?"
Equal parts relief and remorse flood over the young witch. For a long time she watches the emotions in his living eyes, fascinated with the swirling of fear and pain. Whatever thoughts pass through her mind suddenly send her eyes flaring wide with some hint of horror. She rips them away and quickly tucks the knife back with its kin. Once more she lifts the bottle to her lips, and then again to his. Her other hand still strokes his hair from his forehead, rhythmically, offering comfort.
She gentles her tone to one of a mother,"We can start with your name, how it is you came to be here - in this life. Then tell me of your companions, how many are missing not counting the ones that left with Happs. Where did they go and when will they be back?"
The bandit groans and tries to stretch, but is limited by the ropes. His face is twisted in pain. He speaks slowly, as if to spare himself.
"What happened to Ha- urgh." He stops, closing his eyes a moment, and then shakes his head lightly. "I'm... Semper. I come from the River Kingdoms. Not including Happs, there was one other group of four. We all numbered thirteen total including Kressel there. " He nods his head towards where Kressel is still laying unconscious, then winces. "And that's not counting our boss and all his lackies... Er, the other group is around hunting. They'll likely be back within a day or two. You aren't going to kill us are you? Or cut us up some more? I mean all of it, honest."
She winces as his face twists, but hides it quickly. Yet again she lifts the bottle offering him a drink. "Your life and lack of further pain is entirely in your hands. But at the moment the plan is to take you to face trial. Colin..." she dips her head towards him. "Is the most fair and honest man I know, any aid you give us he will make sure gets heard at trial. Who is the boss and how many lackies does he have?"
The bandit looks a bit relieved, but still frightened. "Our boss is a monster of a man. Calls himself the Stag Lord. He’s a deadeye with the bow, and I saw him crush a prisoner’s hand to mush in one fist. He's got this stag helmet, skull, antlers and all. Never takes it off..." Semper trails off for a moment, staring out past Crytalis to the trees.
Then he blinks and looks back to her. "It’s hard keeping track of who’s working for the boss, so we use a master phrase as a sort of password to get in to the fort on the northeast shore of the Tuskwater. But I wouldn't go back there if I could. I've got no more loyalty for him. He's a bloody drunk. He's half of what he used to be, and ain't never been right in the head. A few weeks ago he punched my horse just for spittin' in the yard." He makes to spit, but just dry air escapes his lips. "Personally, I wouldn't care if he dropped dead tomorrow, but even drunk out of his mind he's still got a fair amount of fight in him."
"Oh Semper, however did you get all tangle up in this? Why have you stayed working for such as him?" Crytalis pulls the stag medallion from her pouch and holds it up to him. "Do you know the meaning of this? And what is this master phrase?"
"Yeah... that's an amulet he uses to signify his followers. And unless it's been changed recently, the phrase is: ‘By the Bloody Bones of St. Gilmorg, who wants to know?’"
Semper adjusts his back to try and make himself more comfortable, still not likely to be able to move very quickly. Then he looks back to Crytalis. Not much older than two decades, he has short brown hair and a wide face. His eyes are a muddy green. "Since I've been so helpful. What do you say you let me go? Swear I won't be keeping up my theivin' ways. I'll head back to the River Kingdoms if I get the chance. Won't bother around here no more. I can see the error of my ways, honest."
Crytalis drops a kiss on his forehead before sliding his head from her lap. She leaves him for long enough to fetch some bedding, if such is to be found, and some fresh water. She loosens the ties that bind him and begins tending to his wounds. "Your freedom you will have to take up with Colin. And it will be awhile before you could survive the trip home, in the state you are in. Perhaps if you offered to make amends, to bring safety and justice to this region. Protect those who seek a life here from people like the man you were. Swear fidelity to him."
She continues her tending, moving her knives far beyond his reach. "First, tell me how the Stag Lord collects his tributes from you? And how far from here his fort is. Draw us a map of all you know of it, when you are able."
"Tributes?" He shakes his head. "No, we just bring the loot into the fort and have our fill of there after it gets picked over. And it's to the south and west, down the thorn river, past the crossing where the Shrike river meets it and then both flow into the lake Tuskwater out in the Kamelands."
While he speaks, he gestures with his hand to the south. "This camp is barely a few hours into the forest. You'll find the edge to the south down the river. But I can't draw you a map, on account of those are the only details I know."
Crytalis studies him as she works and he talks, trying to sense if his intentions of reform are true. She makes him as comfortable as possible before going in search of Colin and Guillame.
Crytalis gets the sense that he's just telling her what she wants to hear because he's afraid. However, his memory of how easily he and his crew were defeated may stick with him as a reminder and drive him to change his ways.
After a time, Guillame saunters over to the bandit Colin asked him to question. He squats down and sighs, pushing the brim of his hat up, and appraising the wounded man.
"Fighting is easy, non?" he says, by way of breaking the ice. "The interrogation - ah, well that is difficult."
Guillame casts his gaze south, to where Crytalis and the others are. He sighs again.
"I will be honest, brigand. I have no stomach for the threats and the torture. But this Mademoiselle Crytalis, she ... well, she speaks of death and bones in a way that makes me stay awake at night! You are lucky you are talking to me."
Guillame takes another swig of the liquor, and sighs, pondering.
"But of course, you must guess that we question you separately, to get the truth from three paths, e'? And if you do not answer, or the three paths do not meet as one, then the mademoiselle, she will take an interest, e'? That is not wise, to let her take an interest, I think."
Guillame takes another swig, and appraises the bottle with squinted eye.
"We start with easy questions, e'? What do you call this drink? From the taste I would say "Huntmaster", but is green, not brown."
At first the bandit listens half-interested, but when Guillame starts talking about Crytalis, his eyes widen a bit and he pays his full attention. He has a bald head and a few scars on his face and neck.
He shrugs. "Beats the hells out of me, but it's color ain't like no green I've ever seen. Were givin' it to the Stag Lord, might calm the demon down. They say he never takes his mask off, but I know true, he ain't no regular man, that bloody thing is his face. Antlers and all. But I think he's slippin' to the bottom of a whiskey cask, demon or no."