As Lauren prepares to tend to the man's wounds, she quickly discovers he bears only one wound, a deep cut into his side whose strike appears to have come from behind. As she rips open his vest and rinse away the worst blood, she remembers those old sayings about merchants being lucky, because this one sure is. If the strike had been a little higher, lower or deeper he would surely have bled out by now.
While he has lost a lot of blood, it's not quite as bad as it looks. He stirs and groans a little as Lauren applies the bandages, and just as she's tightening the last bandage he wakes with a start and some slurry words that quite likely is a curse of some sort. He's quite groggy for a moment, but then seems to remember what happened to him and his eyes snap into focus, and he's very near panic as he fervently glances around trying to get a feel for the situation. The lack of goblins seems to calm him down, and he addresses those around him.
"You've dealt with the goblins, then? You have my most sincere thanks for taking care of them, and not least saving my life. I'm Thomas, though most people call me Peddler Thomas. I've been... Ahrg!"
He tried to stand, but came as far as sitting before nearly doubling over in pain. Clutching his side and gritting his teeth in pain, he manages to wheeze "Damn, but they got me good. Listen, I've a merchant's pack, it should be here somewhere. In the left topmost pocket there's several metal flasks, could you bring me one?"
Looking back towards the forest, you can see the goblins dragged the large backpack a bit further in the woods, and scattered several of the pack's contents while no doubt rummaging through it looking for loot. The side pockets seem to be still closed.