As Lorenor sat there, time passed.

He was considering many matters as he meditated...the mysterious images of people who needed him troubled him the most. At that point, he decided to cease his communion with The Holy Light and stood up to stretch. Several days had passed since he'd first started meditating. No food, no water, no sustenance of any sort. Just deep meditation and concentration. As he stood up he stretched, he always felt better after meditating in such a way. The Holy Light empowered him, and it was a comfort to know that it was there. He decided that he would turn around at that point and he saw two strangers approaching him. They both wore clothing that seemed familiar to him somehow. Further point, one of them was considerably shorter than the other.

As Lorenor examined the two newcomers, he began to think of a very old memory...an old shadow that haunted his heart.

It was oft said that the oldest scars were the unresolved ones...the ones that lingered on the soul. Tasks and matters that remained unfinished. The matter that suddenly manifested in his mind was one of those many old scars and pains. "...Eiskalt..." Lorenor suddenly said out loud for no reason in particular. Lorenor had been present for that Nation's fall. A mass-genocide had taken place there and he'd been too weak and powerful to stop it.

He'd failed as a Paladin.

As a result, that old scar haunted him to that very day. It was a burden that needed resolution before Lorenor could move on with his un-life. Lorenor was shirtless at that point still, in his camp, as he stood up. His muscles well formed and toned. The most interesting feature of the old Paladin was the man's face. He had glowing blue eyes that were glowing energy. A mark of the reformation period he'd undergone before The Ixian Knights disbanded. Lorenor thought of Eiskalt for that point. The doomed Nation's downfall oft haunted his sleep and gave him nightmares.

He'd always regretted not being able to stop the monsters that destroyed that Nation.

"If only...I would have had more power..." Lorenor said to himself. Lorenor had a small camp set up there near the lake. It was quite visible since there was camp fire, well structured, in the center of the camp. There was a tent present, and other basic survival tools. Lorenor disliked big cities and always did prefer the wilderness and wild lands. He looked down at the still burning fire. It's glow reflecting shining light on his undead flesh. Lorenor had pale skin. His pants were held up by a simple belt, and he had his gear sitting in the tent. Lorenor kept his shield and sword nearby at all times. His claymore was a gigantic sword normally held in two hands, but he preferred to wield it in one hand and use his shield in the other.

The Paladin was barefoot, he liked the feeling of the ground against his feet.

The sound of the nearby water from the lake also added to his calm mood.

Lorenor looked at the approaching form of the two figures...his mind not on defensive mode just yet. He decided he would wait to see who the strangers that approached actually were. He had a strange feeling in his heart...as if someone had stepped on his grave...