The doors slammed closed before him as he was set upon from all remaining paths to the outside. There, in the great courtyard of the White Keep of Daleifae, as the rain soaked him through his armor and to the bone he met his resolve. There would be no sunrise for him nor gentle repose for his family to morn. He would not afford his sons lessons to his mistakes but could at least grant them time. He turned to to legions of iron clad soldiery descending upon him and they would remember the ferocity of Halaeteus, Master of the Frost Keep.

The famed lancer and head of his house battling to the last to buy his companions precious time to escape an overwhelming ambush.
Drawn from events in a Pathfinder game I am running.