Malkai snorted as it was pointed out that the god of this temple was to a death god. Moons, sickles, and the dead orc he was now smelling. [color=00a651]"Hmph. Crescents and scythes, why couldn't they be the sign of an agriculture or lunar god..."[/color] Not that Malkai was scared of some death god, but it was very cliche. He tried to remember what Nerull's profile contained. Death, obviously. If he was associated with the moon he also either had night, darkness, or some sort of lunacy as well. Magic that manipulates the mind or possible lycanthropy, though that sort of thing is associated with more bestial gods, whereas Nerull seems to focus more around death and madness. As an evil god Malkai also guessed that Nerull rewards murder and likely has some sort of hell or underworld in his command. Which meant daemons; unlike demons or devils, daemons did not have the cruelty of demons nor the ambition of devils. Their motives were fairly straightforward but no less frightening: All they want to do is kill. Should they encounter a daemon here, the chances of negotiating with it peacefully is very slim. At least not without someone dying. Not only that but daemons care very little about showmanship or suffering. They may bring out the big guns the moment battle begins. Malkai would need to prepare himself accordingly. The last thing he wants is to be on the wrong end of a Blasphemy.

Scanning the rooms Malkai noticed the dead orc as well as some of the traps he was told about. They were spaced apart and in this darkness it'd be easy to miss them. Fortunately Malkai could see just fine in the dark, at least around him. He'd have no issue avoiding the traps. As the party moved through Malkai stopped by the dead orc to pillage her body. Her armor was useless to him; while he could have sold it for some money, the giant hole in her chest would decrease it's market value. The sword was decently made, but nothing one couldn't buy at the market. Malkai took it anyway, he could use a spare weapon. Lastly the only other thing of note was a bottle of alcohol on her waistband. A quick smell and he could tell it was orcish made. High proof, too sweet, and somewhat flammable. Perhaps if they need oil, this could substitute for it. Malkai pour4ed the content of the bottle into his empty waterskin so he wouldn't have to worry about the bottle shattering on him. Once he was finished Malkai was one of the few to take point, however he'd be more comfortable with someone else backing him up. Preferably Catarina; hopefully that armor of hers was better at getting stabbed by giant swords than the orc's was.