[center][h1]ℜ𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱[/h1][/center]
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"Into the dark, indeed." Renault repeated, biting his tongue at the rude things he'd wanted to say to de Bray for volunteering him as lead. He couldn't and wouldn't deny the tense feeling in his gut at the fearful unknown that lay within the pit. Even the most seasoned soldiers felt something similar on the eve before a battle. He remembered the old days: when priests and priestesses of the Order would organize prayer vigils for Paladins sent away on missions. It was a ceremonious affair, and some took to it more than others. All had to put on the [i]face[/i] of holy devotion in the Order. After all, they were the religious might of Andallia: moral guardians against the darkness that threatened to encroach just outside the city gates. But politics pressed a heavy hand against the Order, and Renault had wondered if some of his more-cynical fellows even [i]believed[/i] in Erithar.

Deciding to waste no further time, Renault prepared to venture in. Upon further inspection, aided by the lantern secured to his hip, Renault saw that the pit was actually a steep tunnel, leading somewhere unknown beneath the ground. The slimy film that coated the walls, coupled with the rotten stench that threatened to expel his breakfast - had he eaten any - made Renault think they were walking into the bowels of some massive, long-dead creature. 

Slowly easing himself into the entrance to avoid snagging his gear on the jagged wood that surrounded it, Renault found something of a foothold and was able to move further in. His boots made a revolting [i]squelch[/i] sound with every step, sinking into the foul coating. Not wanting to walk into presumably enemy territory unarmed, Renault afeared that his longsword would be disadvantaged in the close, cramped tunnel that forced them all in a single-file line. 

Reaching for his other hip, Renault drew his dagger from its sheath. It was a rogue's weapon, somehow more and less deadly than the sword he'd trained with since he was a boy. Renault grimaced at the idea of getting closer than he had to to actually hurt any rats that would inevitably come for them, but he knew it was better than trying to make a clumsy swing and leave himself even more open to one of their gangrenous bites.