Pash thought back to that.
Harkin and the others had still been away, retrieving their horses and persuading them through the swamps. It had been Pash, his master, Fingers and a new friend of theirs.
With a giant of his own kneeling before him, Pash couldn't very well stop before giving him something to do.
"Bring me a trophy," he'd told the kneeling giant, watching the blue fire in his eyes flicker as he acknowledged the order.
"I will bring you two!" The dead giant said enthusiastically.
Pash had frowned at that. "No… I merely want one. Make it manageable for humans. Something we can drag along with our horses."
"Humans are weak…" the giant had said in the intoxicated way that the necromancy allowed him to speak. "I will bring you the tip of a toe," it had decided, before promptly jumping back into the grave of the Giant King, the sharp glint of his axe catching the dimming light.
