“Hmm…hello there Mr. Corpse. Do you mind if I take something from you? Or do you still need those eyes of yours?”

The Dark Mage known only as Marianne stood still. Actually, it was really more like kneeling. Yes, here she was, kneeling in front of two fresh corpses. One was a charred black, presumably from being burned alive, and the other had a stab mark driven through is neck. Oh what a terrible way to die…but she had to admit, it was just more profit for her.

Studying the one with the torn neck, she had already decided that the burned corpse would be no use to her. By now, all of the soft tissue would have crisped over…no, that won’t do at all. Funny how no one was noticing her in the middle of combat doing such a morbid routine. And really, why should they? The Church wasn’t her fight. Naga wasn’t a part of her fight either. All that really interested her right now was the supposed Champion…and those sweet eyes lying in the dead man’s skull.

Humming to herself, she bent down and proceeded to study the dead specimen further when someone else caught her attention. Someone still breathing evidently. Glancing up, her one crimson eye focused on a young man standing near by with purple hair. A Myrmidon from the looks of it….smiling, she waved at him to try and gain his attention. 

“Excuse me sir,” she called out politely. “Would you mind in helping me do something? You see, I really need to take these eyes. It’s of the utmost importance.”

The Champion could wait. Eyes always came first.