"Attack its good eye," Morne ordered.
His undead Runner growled and lashed out while the living one was still dazed from having its eye torn out, blinding it completely and sending excruciating pain through its nerves.
Whether the Runner's eyes could even see through this heavy black fog or not, Morne didn't know, but what he did know was that eyes were almost always one of the most vulnerable parts of any creature that had them.
"Rip out its throat," Morne said.
His undead obeyed flawlessly, becoming a blur as it ripped four bloody furrows into the Runner's throat, turning its screeches of pain into unintelligible gurgles as blood filled its lungs and mouth.
"Attack it until it's dead."
