To battle!

It is a rout. The forces of darkness are too much for the forces of men. The riders fall apart before dark steel and demonic powers, and the age of men is doomed to wane.

 

You hold the dying thane in your arms as the pierced body of a troll crumples before you. A tear runs down his cheek and he whispers a word of thanks. A stray arrow catches in your neck and you die alongside the last king of the horse lords.