Kit was wide to the beetles' tactics now, and he reared up to feint a slash at the one coming for his underbelly, making himself an even better target for the one coming at his back.
It was a risk, but one that paid off; the beetle at his back landed, slashing across the membrane of his left wing, just as the other darted under his forelegs, going for the most vulnerable patch of scales.
And he dropped like a stone, almost instantly crushing the beetle underneath him, then rolled quickly onto his back. Rolling was not typically a move dragons employed, save in the air--but Kit had grown up wrestling with a very human playmate. The beetles had not been prepared for the move, and though the one on his back survived--barely--it was dazed enough that he made quick work of it, flipping it onto it's back and cracking it open as he had the first.
The one beneath him was still twitching feebly. He growled and bit down on its stinger, ripping it free viciously before slamming both front paws down on it to thoroughly crush it.
The jet dragon swung his head toward the temple and snarled; the sound thrummed through the entirety of the cavern, echoing along corridors and bouncing off crystal until all the air was thick with it.
"Poison? But--our men--"
"Understood, sir," the mercenary leader said, cutting Rathbourne off. "We'll get it done."
