Uriah left the citadel, nodding to the guard as they once again raised the portcullis for him as he passed through the storm gate, the sun now low in the evening sky. Retracing his steps, he found his way back to the tavern on the docks he has made his home for the past week, he looked up at the sign and sighed.

“The Kelpies Cross, home for the travelling adventurer” he spoke aloud. “At least the wines good.” Uriah returned to the tavern and entered through the door.

“Al have you ya great scaley beast!” shouted Therwick in the centre of the hall.

“This time you fall, dwarf” replied Veraxes to Therwicks shout.

Uriahs hand went to his hilt before the two sat down at a small table and assumed an arm-wrestling position, with a sigh of relief he removed his hand from his hilt. Why had he gone for it in the first place? Perhaps he liked this dwarf more than he thought.

“A doubt that scaley one! Ye got lucky on that last one ya great white lump!”

“I was never lucky; I was simply stronger.”

The few patrons who remained in the tavern sat in small groups, many crowded around the table occupied by the dwarf and the draconic. Seemingly interested in the confrontation, some making a game of it.

“Seven bits on the dwarf!” shouted one drunken patron. “You’re on cargo pusher!” replied another.

Many such discussions where had and the arm-wrestle began, it lasted only a few seconds before the scaled arm of Veraxes hit the table, forced down by Therwick.

“A telt ye scaley one, I’m stronger!” exclaimed Therwick, greeted by cheers and groans from the audience around them as coin changed hands between those who had bet on the bout.

“Not true, we go again!” exclaimed Veraxes, slamming his clawed hands onto the table.

“Enjoy an arse kicking do ye scaley one? Well, let's get started!”

Uriah grinned under his mask, being social isn’t all bad it seems. He looked to his right and saw Emmeric and Kraven sitting at a nearby table and went over to join them. He removed his mask and hood and sat down at the table, a serving girl approaching him.

“A drink for you sir?” she asked.

“Red Lentrio, Emmeric?” asked Uriah.

“Water for me will be fine thanks.” replied Emmeric.

“Kraven, was it? Would you like something?” asked Uriah.

“No.”.

“That’ll be all thanks.” said Uriah.

The serving girl bowed and quickly fetched the order and brought it to the table. She served Emmeric the water and began pouring the wine for Uriah.

“Leave the bottle.” said Uriah, handing a silver coin to the serving girl. “Keep the remainder”.

The girl bowed and wandered off to serve the other patrons. Uriah brought the familiar drink to his lips and as always, drank heartily, savouring the taste.

“How was your walk Uriah?”

“Eventful you could say Emmeric, what happened here after I left.”

Without shifting his gaze Emmeric leaned in closer. “A few people bought some goods from the elf, rings, pendants, earrings, the usual things.” explained Emmeric. “Although nothing of note was sold, trinkets containing source enhancements for strength, illumination, levitation. Standard goods.”

Uriah slumped back in his chair. “The concerning part was his presence; I have never felt a source power like that before.”

“You and me both Uriah. It was strange indeed, why would someone of that power be simply selling trinkets to a tavern full of common people?”.

Strange indeed, thought Uriah. It was just too strange to add up. He turned to Kraven the dark elf.

“What about you Kraven, I heard you where Therwicks companion, did you notice anything curious about that group?”

“No.”

Uriah sighed. “You don’t talk much do you, what brings you here Kraven?”

Kraven sighed in frustration before he replied. “Kraven travel.”

Realising that pursuing any type of questioning further would likely antagonise Kraven, Uriah sighed in defeat and left it at that.

More time passed as the tavern began to empty of its patrons, Therwick and Veraxes still going strong with their physical tests of strength, although Therwick was visibly drunk now and was sluggish in his movements and soon collapsed onto the floor.

“This one is beyond fight.” called Veraxes “is there any who would challenge me?” he asked the small crowd.

“Aye, I will!” grinned a clearly intoxicated sailor, wobbling towards Veraxes.

“Then sit, puny man, you will taste defeat.” said Veraxes

“Go on laddie, hic! I believe in ye!” said Therwick, his face plastered to the tavern floor, tankard still upright in his hand.

The sailor pulled something from his pocket Uriah noticed, a ring he realised and placed it on his finger. He grinned widely and sat down and assumed the arm-wrestling position opposite Veraxes.

“A source enchanted ring of strength no doubt.” said Emmeric, breaking the silence at the table.

“Likely.” replied Uriah.

“Right draconic, let's set you straight.” said the sailor sitting down. The sailor assumed the position his keen eyes locked onto Veraxes then a flash change of his emotion, he gripped his wrist with his off hand and began to panic, grasping onto his arm with screams of pain following shortly after. Uriah and Emmeric rose from their chairs and rushed over to the sailor who was now rolling in pain grasping at his arm. Uriah noticed that the muscles in his arm began to grow at an unnatural rate which should not have been possible even with source enhancement and within seconds his forearm had grown to the size of a small barrel and his upper arm was beginning to follow suit.

“It's very simple, remove the ring from his hand.” Emmeric spoke loudly as he rolled his eyes, raising and pressing his foot down on the man’s shoulder.

“Allow me small man!” said Veraxes, using his mighty clawed hands he pinned the man still.

Uriah tried with all his might but could not shift the ring from the man's finger it was almost as though the ring had become source melded into his finger. With a mighty swing the sailor slashed his gargantuan arm through the air and knocked Veraxes flying into the bar, the draconic was back on his feet in a flash, crouched into a fighting stance and baring his teeth at the sailor.

“Get this thing off me!” the sailor wailed in agony.

He slammed his hand into Uriah and sent him sprawling across the floor as Emmeric backed away from him. The sailor rose to his feet, the arm now almost touching the floor as he stood.

“Help me!” he screamed once more.

A flash of steel through the air followed next and the arm hit the floor, the sailor turned to the stump of his arm, severed just below the shoulder and fell to the floor in shock. Kraven stood, his halberd extended outwards after his swing, blood dripping from the blade.

“Someone bloody help him!” the sailors companion yelled above the panics.

Veraxes went to the man and produced a peculiar gem, the gem itself was never static in colour, shifting constantly. He held the gem to the ruined stump of the man's arm and the bleeding stopped almost instantaneously.

“Get him to a hospital, quickly now!” exclaimed Uriah.

The sailor's companions lifted him to his feet and hurried from the tavern, an earie silence filled the space as those present collected their thoughts, Uriah was in shock. Had he just witnessed one of these strange items first hand? He had never witnessed such monstrous power before. He approached the Severed arm on the floor. Before he could inspect the limb, it began liquifying before his very eyes, after several seconds only the ring itself remained.

“Allow me Uriah.” Emmeric said as he approached. He lifted the ring from the thick liquid remains it resided in and held it in the palm of his hand. Emmeric closed his eyes and concentrated into himself on the item, finally opening his eyes after several moments. “It’s not source enchanted Uriah; this ring is cursed.”

A few hours had passed since the horror incident of the cursed ring, Emmeric, Kraven, Therwick and Veraxes all now sat with Uriah around a table within the Tavern.

“Lad, just what is going on, you seem to know more than yer lettin’ on here?”. Therwick asked towards Uriah.

“I can’t say Master Dwarf, I’m not quite sure myself. Whatever is happening here that elf is at the centre of it, of that at least I am certain.”

“That trinket peddler is certainly a bad sign.” said Emmeric. “The main issue being his power, it’ll make fighting him a bit of an issue for us.”

“Us?” questioned Uriah.

“Aye of course laddie, if this elf is as powerful as yer sayin’, yer gonna need all the help ye can get. Besides, I'd love to break the cocky bastard's jaw.” yelled Therwick.

“Elf has bad attitude; I will help crush this man.” chimed in Veraxes.

“Kraven will help. Then Travel” said Kraven, much to Uriah's surprise.

“I appreciate the sentiment, you are all brave and seasoned veterans of many adventures and battles, you likely have many a tale of your victories and successes in the field of battle and of the treasures you have found, alas this one isn’t for you.” replied Uriah.

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“What is it yer getting at laddie?” Inquired Therwick . “We’ve had our battles lad, you don’t need to fight this one on yer lonesome”

“The dwarf is right Uriah, whatever happens here is surely an ill omen for us all.” Agreed Emmeric.

“The dwarf has a name ya cocky half-breed!” Therwick said, slamming the table with his large fist.

“The dwarf should shut up when smart people are talking.”.

“Yer lucky I'm in a charitable mood ya wee shit.”.

“I see, I thank you for the kind offer gentlemen.” said Uriah rising from his seat. “But I lost the right to companions a decade ago, this is my burden to bear, alone. Good evening gentlemen.”

“Now lad wait just a minute!” Pleaded Therwick.

“I will not Master Dwarf!” snapped Uriah. “Do not interfere!”. With that, Uriah left the tavern hall and alighted the stairs to the guest rooms, disappearing from sight.

"What on earth has gotten into him? Surely there was no need for that?” pondered Emmeric

“Kraven does not know.”

“Small man does not like us Therwick?”

“I doubt it’s that, Scaley one. In my experience that is one lad who has had more than is fair in his share of sorrow.” grumbled Therwick. “You and me both lad.”.

Uriah returned to his small room on the second floor of the tavern and bolted the door closed behind him, he removed his mask and sat at the small table and chair in his home of a week and pondered the situation that laid before him. He had a target, he always ended up with a target. Yet for the first time in his life, he felt fear. For the first time in his 28 years, he felt a source far beyond himself. He had lain low powerful foes before, but this one sent shivers up his spine. The level of his source link felt impossible, how could one man hold so much power? Unless this was something far worse and not a man at all. As to the items themselves, what did this group gain from randomly distributing these dangerous trinkets among the populace?

Too many variables, just what is their goal? Thought Uriah.

Frustrated he decided to turn in for the night, he lay back on the simple straw lined bed and fell into his thoughts, not remembering when he fell asleep, he soon realised he was in a deep slumber

“Uriah...” the whisper said.

He awoke sitting upright from his deep rest, green lightning sparking in his hand. Uriah looked around for the source of the voice. Then he realised, it was happening again. He knew exactly to whom the voice he had heard had come from and that he was still within a dream. Turning to his left Uriah looked directly into the corner of the room, unnaturally black, as if the moonlight itself recoiled from it.

“Barbaros are you going to continue with these childish games or are you going to show yourself?” called out Uriah.

The shadows around the room began moving in fluid form into the blackened corner of the room and began to form into a somewhat human form. The legs formed first; goat like in appearance. The bare chest was next, skin as red as fresh spilt blood and a face boasting a strong jawline and well chiselled features. The eyes where as black as the night sky devoid of stars, a deep unending blackness, a cold and empty void. The figure lastly doffed a long black robe and held in his hand a wicked looking dual pronged fork. The figured walked to the nearby chair and took a seat, he raised a hand and conjured two goblets which filled themselves with red wine. Then came the sincere smile, a parody of a smile one might receive when being comforted by a loving parent. Handing a goblet to Uriah the figure spoke.

“How is my favourite hellion doing?” asked Barbaros, Prince of the Eighth ring of the ten hells.

Uriah looked at Barbaros with nothing but contempt. This demon is the reason Uriah committed the ultimate sin, this monster is the reason that Uriah slew his friends, the man he called his father. This devil is the reason that he lost her, he lost her because of his desire to become stronger, to be the one to overcome his adoptive father, to become a hero. Yet, Barbaros was not to take the whole blame, Uriah let his own hubris get the better of him, the price for this was his burden to bear.

“What is it you want Barbaros?”

“Oh? Is it such an atrocity that I would simply check in with you every now and again? You are my favourite disciple in this world after all. There doesn’t have to be a motive!”

“Drop the act Barbaros, I know fine well that you watch my every move. So out with it all ready. What do you want?” demanded Uriah.

Emerald flames enveloped Barbaros and his eyes grew wide, his fangs extended below his bottom lip and his mouth opened in a snarl. “You would do well to know your place you mortal dog, lest you want to burn in the fires of the eighth circle for eternity!”

“Until she is returned, you have my loyalty after king Arvos. This you know.” replied Uriah calmly.

The flames cooled down and Barbaros’ face returned to that familiar sincere fatherly smile. “Then we understand one another, that miniscule king is lucky you chose him as your bond in exchange for wiping out that meddlesome order you once called a family.” Barbaros pondered “Otherwise I would have reduced him to ash a decade ago.”.

Uriah gritted his teeth at the remark, Barbaros offered Uriah a reward for destroying his order, having no one left in this world meant he had no one to preserve from Barbaros’ flames, until of course, he met then Prince Arvos, it was only then Barbaros revealed that she was still alive, as impossible as it seemed, whether a ploy or not to keep Uriah in play as his subject, the prince had outplayed him.

“Why must you take the role of an enemy Barbaros, am I not your aspiring champion?”

“Of course, you are my dear Uriah!” exclaimed Barbaros. “One day I will retake my throne. You started that process by freeing me! And you will help me on the field of that war when the time comes, and that traitorous wife of mine Maelis will finally get her dues!” Barbaros laughed.

“That is the accord, only once you return her to this world.”

“We are in concert then! You will lead my armies to regain my throne from that harlot Maelis and take your rightful place as my hand and sweet Ylvara will be returned to this world as agreed.”. Barbaros raised his hand, and in the flames, he held there Uriah could see the form of a dark elven woman. She was walking aimlessly, lost and looking for a sign she would not find. “As you can see, her form wanders still, infinitely, until that time comes, although you must get stronger Uriah.”

“I am well aware of the limitations of the power you gave me; I was reminded of that all too well this evening Barbaros.” replied Uriah.

“And thus, we arrive at the crux.” sighed Barbaros. “I felt that presence too, as you said I do so love watching your day!” grinned Barbaros, then his expression changed to something more of concern. “That power is not mortal born Uriah, much like your own. It is a dark power; one I have not felt in eternity.”

“Then what is he Barbaros? What is his intent?”

“It would only make sense that you beseech me for knowledge Uriah, a being as all-knowing and powerful as myself!” declared Barbaros, his vanity unchanging. “It is indeed troubling that I cannot place this power Uriah however familiar it may be.”

Amusing, thought Uriah. “Is there anything you could derive from it? His source was exceptionally powerful, my senses where like a moth to flame, I couldn’t escape it.”

“What is like a bright flame is that grin in your head Uriah, it shines as brightly as a physical one and you’d do well to remember your place!” Barbaros said joyfully “The power he holds is not his own, and it is old Uriah, very old. Older than all the gods that hold sway above and the princes from below.” said Barbaros, for the first time in ten years, Uriah saw the prince looking genuinely troubled by something.

“Do you fear it Barbaros?” asked Uriah.

“I do Uriah, if you have half the intelligence that I believe you to have, you should too.”

Uriah awoke in a cold sweat; he looked around his room for signs of any presence around him and he found none. Did Barbaros really admit to fearing this man? Or to be more precise, where he obtained that much source power? This took the issue to new heights, the thought that this presence was something that even a prince of Inferno could grow to fear made the hairs on the back of Uriah’s neck stand. Uriah rose from his slumber and drew the window open, daylight flooded into the small room, the fresh sea air cooling his overheating skin.

“Today is the first step towards unravelling this riddle, for better or worse.” Uriah said into himself.

He donned his black trousers and tunic and strapped on his black leather armour and gauntlets. He lastly placed the hilt of Síorraidh he had received from Barbaros on his belt and donned his mithril forged mask.

“I’ll discover your plans you bastard, and I'll give you a taste of Inferno.” swore Uriah pulling on his riding boots. With that he unbolted the door to his room and left to descend the stairs to the tavern floor.