Toriah slept poorly the night before, haunted by dreams of humanoids chasing him through the tangled underbrush. He woke early, and after eating some trail rations, packed up camp and headed off. They can't be after me, he thinks, continuing an argument started the night before. I mean, they can't know yet, and if they're off hunting, that's perfectly normal and unsuspicious, right? Besides, I can always just split after a while and claim the fighting is too much for me. With that thought in mind, he strolls into the camp, taking pains to not conceal his passage. Wouldn't do to have them think I'm sneaking up on them, he laughs to himself.
"Greetings, all," he says, sweeping a low bow. "I am called Toriah." He keeps his eyes on Damien, having marked him as the leader of the group, and the one who needed the most convincing. "I heard you all speak of hunting goblinoids and thought I'd offer my services." He is attractive, and obviously of elvish descent. Though he smiles easily, his green eyes are hooded and he constantly looks around, as if ready to bolt at any moment. He wears slightly worn leather armor and carries a full backpack with light crossbow and rapier in easy reach.