"You sure this is the correct tomb?" My assistant, Georgia asks me. We both stand in front of a four hundred year old tomb to a Wakellium chieftain.
"The hieroglyphs here talk about Marmaren the great Wakellium chieftain." I point to my left, shifting my weight because of the pack of supplies on my back.
Staring at the skulls on pikes, Georgia is overcome with fear, "Maybe we shouldn't go in there, it could collapse on us or have deadly traps."
