Great pillars of strange basalt held aloft the massive archway that served as the entrance to the temple. Thick mysterious vines twisting and winding around the length of the pillars, ending in magnificent purple flowers, bearing bulbs greatly engorged by a liquid of some sort, glowing a soft, yellow hue.
Upon the floor between the pillars was an engraving and what apeared to be a trapdoor, very poorly hidden by a well worn and rotten mat that apeared to once say 'WELCOME' in freindly characters. The engraving itself, was a rune, which, while unknown to our empty headed heroine, would be recognized by any worthy mage as the rune łařokir, the rune of the brain, of higher thought, and magic. Below the first rune, a second lay. Nųæl, the rune of loss, theft, or unwanted things.
An obvious trap to any who even held the simplest understanding of the mystic runes. Unfortionetly for our ditzy blond clad in her, *ahem*, personality enhancing armour, she, she did not hold any such understanding. Most of what preoccupied her thoughts was how much she was paid, where her next meal was comming from, what she got to kill, how often she got to kill, and well...OTHER things...
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