<strong>Lothriel</strong>- Health: 10/10 ; Mana: 20/20 ; Virtue: 20/20<br/><br/>Inventory: Sword, Armor, bedroll, rations, rope, two throwing daggers.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The garish statue didn't deter the elf who moved swiftly and silently past it, almost gliding across the ground. Nor did the warning words alongside it. At this point, little short of an army would stop the raven haired elf from entering the feared labyrinth. That's what a wager did to Lothriel. It was both carrot and stick - taunting her with what she could gain, and the face she'd lose in failure.<br/><br/>When she had confronted the local baron about his forcing local girls into work as wenches in his castle, he had agreed to a wager. Ten thousand gold crown if she went into the Labyrinth, to its lowest level, and survived. The money would bankrupt him, prevent him from paying taxes to the king, and probably lead to his replacement. Curiously, he hadn't been that interested in what she had to lose - though, to balance the scales, Lothriel had declared that she would dance and serve for 5 years should she fail. A blink in the life span of an elf, less so for a human. Not that she would fail, of course.<br/><br/>A smile lit up her face when she saw the lonely table, with the pair of bone dice resting atop it. How perfect a way to for it to start. She lifted the two dice and shifted them in her lucky hand, the right hand, shifting them back and forth a few times to get a nice feel for them. The true gambler respects the instruments of their fate - hoping they'd respect her back.<br/><br/>A kiss, a prayer to the goddess of lucky fools, and a quick shake, then Lothriel cast the dice back onto the table.