Klod the barbarian was a man of passion, power and instinct. Intellect? Not so much. When he heard the rumors of a treasure inside the Temple of Arngog, he ran off, sword in hand. Surely the puny God of Annihilation would be no match for a man with a sword named Ruin.
Klod swaggered carelessly into the temple as the stones around him creaked and crumbled. He swatted at a swarm of flies that buzzed around the corpse of a dead adventurer. The cause of death was rather obvious, for extruding from the rotten flesh was a large javelin. Klod gave the poor unfortunate barely a sidelong glance as he stumbled deeper into the ruined temple (after all, a god of destruction can’t well be taken seriously unless his temple lies in ruins). Soon the stray rays of light from the sun grew dim, so Klod lit his torch and continued on. The ruined corridor evntually led to a stair which seemed to descend endlessly into the earth. An ordinary man would have had the good sense to turn back, on the grounds that the temple might well collapse even without the help of its namesake god. But Klod knew that Klod was going to be rich, so he whistled absent mindedly as he descended the steps.
The stairs finally ended in a large room filled with innumerable coffins. The air was heavy and hot, and Klod was getting pissed off.