The warrior's footfalls echoed on the cobbles. His breath steamed in the cold, frosty air. He heard the frantic movement of assailants in the shadowed alley shuffling to surround him.
The warrior laughed. It was a bitter, dry laugh. "It won't do you any good. I feel no pain. Prepare to meet Balor."
Ten powerful magic rings created by an Archmage have scattered to ten random people (suggest only one is PC). This happened when he died in battle. Whoever gets all ten rings inherites all the power the Archmage invested to them over his 200 year life.