Khazrael

All these people--they didn't deserve this. Couldn't they at least have left the bodies?

 "Our decision's been made for us, I guess. Let's check out that common hall, make sure it's clean, and try to set up a defendable camp for the night. It's gonna be hard to sleep, but I'd rather take advantage of any resources we have."

He seems to have picked up some meager supplies on his trip through the town. A simple spear is slung over his shoulder, and the horse he's leading seems to have a bit more food in its saddlebags. However, despite his propensity for jewelry, he seems to be wearing no more than when he arrived, having taken only taken what was necessary.

...or so you think, until you see him uncork a bottle of red wine and take a swig. He rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. His brilliant ice-blue eyes peer into the darkness, and for a moment, he oddly reminds Adalmar of his hawk.