The man looks around at his fallen comrades. "I don't know much 'bout no other bandits. Oh, you mean Styr the Ugly? Yeah I heard he's around. I ain't seen him but Dirty Olaf said we had to avoid the forest because he heard Styr the Ugly and his witch-woman Astrid the Mad were down that way and weren't friendly to no one. If they catch you they pop you in their fey cauldron and that's the end of you" the man winces, holding his badly bleeding wound, dark lifeblood oozing between his fingers. "We came from out west near Greymane's hall. Dirty Olaf - that's him over there" he points to the dead man with the broken neck "he had some bad blood with Javik Gilson, one of Jarl Greymane's freeholders. We tried to grab his cattle to even the score and teach him a lesson. He was on to us though. Him and his sons caught up to us right quick. But we beat them. Put both the lads down proper for a few weeks at least but Olaf couldn't leave it at that. He stuck Javik and let him bleed out right in front of them. Figured he'd end it once and for all with Javik, but all he did was curse our wyrd. We got away with the cattle alright but he led us here, straight into you lot."

The injured man doesn't have much more to say, and it's clear he's not going to make it far as he is. Besides, you have another captive bound already. Mørkedrømevandrer sends him swiftly on his way...

Signy curses at the news that the bandit Styr is apparently hiding out in the forest rather than here in the Trollfist Hills. "What shall we do next? He's not up here. We've got eight head of cattle and this last traitor to face the jarl's justice. Shall we make our way back to the Hall and head out to seek Styr in the forest tomorrow?"