Lorone is an old and battle hardened warrior and general, known far and wide as Sir Lorone 'The Immortal'. After the fall of his army, must get home to inform the king and people of the success of his army and what it cost them, while also having to deal with changes to himself.

He watched on as his army approached the thick mist. He knew that the battle to come would be his last. He had told his men the night before of the enemy they now faced, told them that that for this battle alone, victory meant not defeating the enemy, but holding them back long enough to let the of the people of the kingdom they defended to escape. He had told them that, knowing the risks and that they most likely would not survive, they were released from their bonds of service and were free to go. Not a single man had left. It wasn't loyalty to the kingdom they all served, the kingdom whose king had shown before that he was willing to sacrifice them for his own gain, but loyalty to him. There had been many times where the only thing that saved them from death and defeat, dishonor and the enslavement of their families, had been his ingenuity on the battle field, not only a a leader, but also as a soldier and a warrior. He had earned their trust and in their eyes, they owed him their lives ten times over. His men had just seen it as him collecting a debt long overdue.

His name was Sir Lorone the Immortal. He had long since given up trying to tell people that he was just a normal man, but he had somehow survived so many battles that had either maimed or killed some of his best men, that most would just ignore his complaints. He wasn't invincible though, and he had his fair share of battle scars to prove it, he just didn't have it in him to quit and die.

This battle was different though, he and his men both knew that not even he, the man known as the Immortal, could escape his fate.

He was going to die and all he could do was fight as hard as his aged and battered body would let him. He was nearly fifty and had been on his last campaign when this new enemy had showed itself. It was like nothing that he or his men had ever seen before. They bled just like he and his men did, but they wouldn't go down no matter how many times you cut or stabbed them. It seemed like the only way to kill them was to take off their heads, or to drive your weapon straight through their heart. So unknown were their ways and origin, they came to be known simply as the enemy.

His thoughts were interrupted as his army came to a halt, and it truly was HIS army, just before the mist that shrouded the enemy. They all knew the fight to come would likely be their last. They knew it was an uphill battle, but still they prepared to fight. The only warning they had before the enemy came out of the mist was the nearly silent footsteps they made as they charged forward, Immediately the sounds of battle erupted, it had begun.