They had been hasty in their retreat, lead by Arastoph toward the proper direction, but was expectedly thwarted of his lead by the others who had sought to seek out their companions. Surely, it was an irritable day, between raids and his stubborn protectors (as the term “rescuers” would be lending them too much credence). They did in fact find them, and promptly set up camp in the safest area that they could. From what he has learned from listening in on their conversations, the paladin was Carver, the brawler was Separ, and among the people the two were looking for was an engineer named Kelvin. The little one's name, the gnome, had not been mentioned, and the name of the woman had been mentioned so few times that it had left his mind. The tall half-elf, however; his speech impediment was so pronounced, so strong, that it annoyed the living hell out of the merchant to the point that he didn't even care to learn it.

He completely disregarded the child, almost as though he wasn't aware she existed.

Arastoph only hoped that they knew how to make a proper fire, even though he himself thought that starting a fire in this proximity to the ruined village invested with bandits was a terrible idea. He was bidding misère on his bet that trouble would arrive before anyone got a full night of sleep. Staying in one place was too dangerous. His input would undoubtedly be disregarded by this band; an infuriating concept that was beyond the merchant, to be degraded to such a degree, that [i]his[/i] authority could be so easily undermined. It is under this cognition that Arastoph devises his plans to make the most of the current situation by taking advantage of the paladin's code, and perhaps the moral compass of the others – though he did not know how far the latter would take him.

Not once has he said a word during the process of setting up camp. Shared his opinion, his name – nay, not a word. During one brief moment of quiet amongst the camp, however, Arastoph broke his silence.

“Carver,” Arastoph started simply, “do you – or do you not – feel responsible for the failure in preventing the destruction of Ravenwood and of all its citizens?”

His voice ran smooth, like that of a practiced orator, nary a tremble in its consistency. His eyes bore into the paladin's own, expecting an honest answer.