"Eeeehhh!!!"
Erick dropped the shrunken black claw with a shriek. It bounced on the rug and landed under the coffee table.
His face looked a bit green around the gills and he looked as if he was ready to hurl his dinner.
Zander sighed with disgust. "Erick. Tell me you're not a fake Demon Warlock."
Erick's fingers twitched with revulsion. He had touched that nasty thing…
He turned and scowled at Zander. "I have a sizable collection of warrior demons in my war chest. You've seen me deploy it many times."
Zander tch tch his displeasure. "And yet you're nauseous because you touched the desiccated hand of a mage. How many times have you been on the battlefield and seen dead people?"
"That's different!" Erick cried. "The dead on a battlefield are freshly dead. They still look like people. This thing is an abomination!"
He shuddered with abhorrence, unable to contain himself. "That dead hand is creepy as f**k!!!"
