Sywyn's Journal, Entry One

Sywyn's Journal, sixth night since the eighth moon of this year. Bree. This town is changing. Broke up a fight today. Two thugs fighting round the back of the inn. Both attacking to kill, neither willing to die. The usual. My thanks was in the look of dissatisfaction in the eyes of both the combatants and the on-lookers. Moral Darkness drips down on this once good town. It's worse than ever. No one seems to remember the times of peace. The foreign filth leaks more into this town by the day. Walked inside the inn. Heard someone speak a Tongue that's allied to the enemy. Will have to remember to rip that filthy tongue out. Outside, the rain drops are heavy against my helmet. The pounding of rain against metal almost drowns out a distant domestic cry for help. Almost stepped forward to see if I could see any hint source. Almost step forward... Almost cared. Headed towards home. On the way, passed by the mud-gate. Spotted some thugs attacking a young woman. Intervened. Their blood stained my red armour in my mind. The lass looked more terrified of me than her now-maimed attackers. The look of genuine raw fear is not surprising to me. Would not expect it from the saved to their saviour, yet there is something else in that look of her eye. She readjusted her dress to recover her decency. She made an offer, turned it down. She looked of urchin upbringing. Tossed a pouch of silvers her way. Said she should find some food and a room at the inn. She probably won't. Left her standing in the rain. Found my mare at the stables. Exchanged words with the stable hand. Paid another small pouch of silver to cover damage to dress that Flea, my mare, allegedly ruined. Mounted up. Rode towards home. Seen some fires lit in an old ruin. Brigands. Their sentry was careless and half asleep. Left enough bolts in his back to be deemed as a warning. Steadied Flea. Headed home. Nothing else of note on route, except the feeling that someone was watching me. Reached the house. Bolted door. Write this down for some reason which is beyond my grasp. Sound of rain should hopefully continue to drown the deafening silence enough for sleep.