Alistair was a strong warrior, but he was also a bad drinker. One day, his good fortune came to an end when he found himself in a backwater tavern in the empire.

The food was delicious, the women beautiful, and the drinks poured as they ran out. No matter how familiar or strong you are with alcohol, there is a limit. His reason was dissolved by the alcohol, and his muddled thoughts nodded at the whispered invitation of the women. He wondered what he had foolishly been drinking, and what was now crawling all over him. And when a dull, glowing ring was passed through his nose, he knew what kind of place he was in.

An ego preserved by an unyielding will. Maybe it's a blessing, maybe it's not.