The night was filled with anticipation.

It was felt in the hearts of all the men around him, in the varied barks of the King's Mabari, in the tightening grips of staff and bow alike. No one said anything as the rain started to fall, the skies openly weeping for the previously fallen. Smitty had gone though the same battle before, was there since the beginning. It was tough for the first initial wave of darkspawn, but they had beaten the group back. They had succeeded.

The men were starting to shift in place, now. Who knows how long they had been standing there, waiting for the next bunch of darkspawn to arrive. Where exactly they came from was unknown, but passed around in various rumors throughout the day. Maker knew there was land south of the Korcari that man had yet to chart; perhaps they had amassed there, and decided to take their chances in the swamp land? Yet with the Jansen incident...

Smitty suppressed a shudder at that. There was nothing wrong with the man, no injury to be found, and yet the way he continued on and on about the darkspawn... how they were going to consume everyone, leave nothing but blackness... That was exactly the thing he didn't need the rest of the company- let alone himself- to hear. But what he saw had to have been terrifying enough to scare him out of battle. Lucky sot, getting to laze around with lovely nurses waiting on him hand and foot.

What he'd give to be there now. Full on Ferelden stew, golden ale, warm from the fires and wenches, only to fall asleep in his own bed, to soon start the day anew with obliviousness of the southern battle. Oblivious... what a funny thought that was. The Wardens interspersed with the troops never knew that, apparently. Keeping an archaic group of warriors alive for ages, on the lookout for something that would never come back. Always vigilant, always guarding, always ready for this. Smitty supposed he could help out then, if for nothing more that stories he could wildly exaggerate for the ladies back home. Maybe he'd get a scar out of it, too...

As one of the Chantry biddies walked by with her holy incense, he could hear metallic snaps at attention. King Cailan must have been joining the troops, now. Squinting up though the rain, he could see the golden armor, shining with the flickering torches dotting the land. He almost looked like Maric then, Maker rest his soul: brave, exuberant, full of life, only to be cut off before his prime... but that couldn't happen tonight. He had seen the young Theirin fight in previous battles, which had changed his position on the current King. Cailan may be young, but he had the skill of a seasoned warrior. No doubt from watching his father countless times. Smitty was able to listen to the over enthused speeches after that.

Excited barks soon turned to growls, and the Mabaris uncanny attention was focused on the sprawling forest before them. Lightning lit up the sky in the briefest of flashes, followed closely by thunder he could feel in his bones. The anticipation ramped up even higher, as Smitty's eyes narrowed in challenge, and as he started to lean forward on the balls of his feet. Those hounds were a real life saver, as well as loyal pets. The entire army would be in a world of hurt without them, that was for sure. After thanking the Maker for creating such noble beasts, his gaze flitted up across the battlefield once more... and blinked hard. So many approaching torches... what were those bloody things doing, coming at the troops in a straight line like that? Was that supposed to be intimidating?

The first of them stepped through the tree line, slowly but surely taking their place across the battlefield. One in a horned helmet quickly took its place on a rock, able to easily overlook both armies. It was almost as if this was the darkspawn's version of Cailan. It made Smitty tighten his grip on his sword, the imagined mocking resemblance a burning offense. That lost its power as more and more darkspawn appeared, some making way for giant ogres. Those nasty buggers were impossible to kill, taking five men to successfully kill one. If he was seeing things correctly, there had to be at least seven or eight ogres out there now... where in the Void were they coming from?!

A collective, sickening roar from the darkspawn rose up from across the battlefield, swords banging against shields, fists pounding on thick chests, grouped together with brilliant flashes of lightening that seemed to make the display that much more intimidating. Smitty didn't even realize he was backing up until a hand on his back stopped him. When he looked, he was nodded back towards the darkspawn, his own silent cue to pay attention to the battle before him. But how could he? This wasn't like any of the previous battles, not even the first one! If they weren't evenly matched now, they were getting dangerously close to being outnumbered. The faith in his own might was starting to waver as anticipation started to build even higher. What were the darkspawn waiting for?

"I saw them... like caterpillars, they're going to infest us, eat us, swallow us whole... until nothing is left but bare corpses... and no one can help us, not even the Wardens..."

With a roar from the leader, they all started charging forward, more and more spilling from behind the trees as they were granted room. The ogres lumbered forward, as casual as could be, with the smaller counterparts dodging either around or underneath them. The grassy plain was slowly being covered with pounding, half-decayed feet.

"Archers!"

Smitty nearly jumped out of his skin with the king's first call. The plan came back to mind in a rush, as if it were drilled into him on the very first day of training: weed out as much as possible, cause confusion on the front lines, before sending in the hounds to create more confusion and panic as they killed. Then the troops would come in to finish them off. Simple as that. The arrows arced through the night sky, golden embers bringing pain and death to their foes. Some brave darkspawn were able to weave in and out between the falling bodies, still intent on approaching.

"Hounds!"

After a beat passed, the Mabaris raced out, growls and barks filling the air as they approached. A few more darkspawn were felled at their approach, their hisses of displeasure mixing with shrieks of injured dogs. Smitty's breath hitched in his chest at the sound; would that be what he sounded like as he was run through by some blade? He shook his head to clear that thought; that couldn't happen to him... not now, not like this. He had so much life to live, so much opportunity wasted that he wanted to make right-

"FOR FERELDEN!"

The king's passionate shout spurred his feet forward before he could even think about it. This was going to be his moment, to make up for the ones he lost, for the ones he failed to turn in his favor, for the ones he wanted to live to create. He, along with his fellow soldiers, rushing forward to a fate unknown underneath flaming boulders that rocketed over their heads... Smitty slowed his pace as his eyes widened, coming to the realization that maybe Jansen was right... maybe they were all going to die out here...

The night was filled with...