Discussion
A tense, simmering silence followed the harpy leader's sharp command. The words "Prepare to enter" hung in the air like a poison cloud, and it wasn't long before dissent began to ripple through the gathered flock. First came the shuffling of talons against stone—the restless scraping of claws as several harpies hesitated, their wings twitching nervously. Then, the murmurs started. Soft at first, uncertain whispers exchanged between uneasy comrades, but they grew louder, sharper, like cracks spidering across glass.
"Why should we go in?" one harpy finally blurted, her voice cutting through the heavy stillness. She was a smaller figure, her pale green feathers shivering with agitation as she turned toward the leader. "What proof do we have that they're even worth pursuing? The Orcs are vengeful, yes—but they're not clever. If they're hiding, let them rot in there. Why risk our necks to pull them out?"