"Okidok. Be right back." Zaryn sauntered off with the shriveled up eyeball still skewered on the tip of his scimitar. He walked up to a small tent, waving at the two Essyrni guards as he ducked inside.
"Ah, Zaryn," a voice at the end of the tent purred.
"Hey boss," Zaryn said, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the tent. A gruff looking man lounging atop pillows faded into his vision, supporting himself on his thick, muscled arms. "I got something for ya!" Zaryn waved the raisoned eyeball in front of him, smiling as he did so.
"What the hell is that?" The man scowled as his deep-set eyes followed the motion of the scimitar.
"This belonged to the creature he sent me to kill. He's good as dead!"
"You brought me the eyeball?!" The man sat up, his voise rising in irritation with every word. "What the fuck am I gonna do with a fucking eyeball?"
"Hey, hey." Zaryn raised his hands up in front of him in a pacifying manner. "You said you wanted it dead, and it's dead."
"Look, you fucking horned idiot! I told you to get me a trophy, not a fucking eyeball!"