The Journal of Herlam Corkwill - IC

[Dragonsong]

Roen nodded, pleased that the rider had no intention of negotiating with such vile and cunning tricksters as the Drow, and allowed the man to turn away and give his orders without further comment. So, he would be back in battle when night fell. A shiver of anticipation ran down his spine even as worry sat heavy in his stomach. For himself he was not afraid; his life was in the hands of his goddess, and he had been delivered many times before from what seemed to be certain doom. But an attack on this barely-defensible village would cause deaths and woundings amongst those who little deserved such things.

He would do everything in his power to protect them, but battle was ugly. Good people would fall.

Turning away from the barracks, Roen moved back through the crowd towards the inn he had noticed earlier, the same one Daurily's note had told him to meet her at. The tension before a battle, that thrill-dread that sharpened his perceptions and set his mind racing, had wormed its way all through his body, and he doubted he would sleep that night. But he could at least find out what it was like to lie down in a bed, if not to sleep in one, and he could do with some food and drink. Whistling merrily to keep his nerves down, he strode through the inn's main door.