A small smile crept up Vendrael's face as he found the hole. His intuition had been right, it seemed; no way any structure could last so long without wear. On the other hand, the smell of decay and death wasn't exactly pleasant; no, rather, it was abhorrent and something he'd rather not have to smell again in his life after they concluded their mission here.

The rest of the party soon began to congregate around the hole he and the other person (a half-giant, if he had heard correctly) had found, beginning almost immediately in evaluating their possible options. As the the group began to start discussion, however, he saw the swordsman from earlier come by. It'd have been a lie to say that he didn't have a few sweatdrops forming at that moment.

Imagine his surprise, then, when his compatriot did something incredibly smart: to drop a lit torch down the well to check both the distance and to catch a glimpse of anything lying in wait. The thought had never crossed his mind, so the high elf decided to give some mental praise to the man; he wasn't as brutish as his appearance seemed to suggest.

"I'll follow whichever route is deemed safest; be it a new hole or this one," he stated. There was no obligation for him to rush or anything of the sort; the tower stood here long before they came, and it wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon.