After an awkward moment of silence, Zephyrion turned and continued down the tunnel, with the town head hesitantly trailing behind.
The passage was wide enough to accommodate six people standing shoulder to shoulder, with a ceiling nearly twice a man's height. The air was damp and carried a musty smell, and even as they ventured deeper, there was still no trace of light.
Instead, Zephyrion relied on the faint vibrations thrumming through the tunnel to guide his steps. They all seemed to be coming from the same direction anyway.
Eventually, the town head broke the silence.
"…I know how this must sound, my lord, but are you really sure about this? I mean, we're practically walking to our deaths here. A Gravemaw lair could have a dozen of those bastards, maybe more, and there's only three of us. Don't you think we should, you know, head back and get some reinforcements first befor—"
