The long dagger slashed cleanly through the fabric of Crypt's shirt, leaving a thin red line on the Drykas' left side. The wound was minor enough, but it would hamper his movements due to the sheer pain it provided - about as painful as a papercut.
Gritting his teeth, Crypt made a fist with his left hand and slammed it down on the bandit's hand which held the dagger, forcing Sid to drop it. With his still-bloodied hand, Crypt seized hold of the ex-mercenary's neck, holding it in an iron grip even as he forced Sid downwards onto the ground. A hiss escaping from between his clenched teeth, Crypt raised a foot and brought it down on both of Sid's knees, feeling faintly the crushed cartilage and tissue beneath his foot, cutting off all hopes of escape for the now unarmed bandit.
"You've caused me a lot of grief, bandit..." Crypt paused for a moment as an involuntary goan escaped from his mouth, "But it ends here now. You've been a worthy opponent, but here it ends. Goodbye."
Picking up his longsword, Crypt heaved it with both hands, raising it to slightly above his head, before planting it firmly, sharp end first, into Sid's head. The bandit flailed for a few seconds before finally going limp. Feeling as if a large burden had been lifted from his shoulders, Crypt sank to one knee, leaning onto his upright sword to support him. Panting rapidly, Crypt continued to stare at the corpse of the bandit.
Once Crypt realised that his wounds were not non-existent, and once he felt the pain emanating from his injuries, Crypt began to push himself to his feet, using his longsword as a crutch. As he attempted to walk over to his backpack, he stumbled over quite a few times and only managed an unsteady, jerky shamble.
Rummaging through his basic medical supplies, Crypt removed the blood-stained bandage on his arm and proceeded to open a vial of wound-cleansing potion, carefully portioning it out such that he would be able to clean all of his wounds. Throwing the empty vial away, he proceeded to daub the surface of his wounds with some healing ointment from a small jar, all the while attempting not to make any sound. He failed miserably, twitching every time his ointment-covered fingers touched a wound, even yelping occasionally.
Crypt hated pain with a fervour, and he was starting to regret helping the squires.
Finally finishing the rudimentary treatment, Crypt bandaged his arm again, noting that (with some relief) that most of the bleeding had stopped, and a dull ache had taken the place of the sharp, piercing pain. The Drykas spotted Maras obediently making his way over to Crypt. Crypt glanced to one side to check on the squires.
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