Cassian, as ever, was the first to puncture the silence. His voice was a lazy drawl, entirely too casual for a man standing beneath a ceiling covered in diving leathery predators.
"Which idiot was it?" he muttered, sliding his greatsword from its sheath with a slow rasp. "Identify yourself before I find my way up there and slice you in two."
No one moved. No one dared. Whether they were paralyzed by the King's ire, or the dry rattling of the nightmares above, the men remained frozen. Every chin was tilted back, eyes straining into the writhing shadows, their faces washed in the sickly orange glow of torchlight.
Then, Otho's voice shattered the tension, breaking into a roar that tore through the dry air of the cavern:
"Engagement posture! Eyes up! Draw!"
