Psii never gave a shit about being either proper or mustachioed. He was, in the words of his "betters," uncouth lowblood trash. Unfortunately for him, he didn't get a chance to speak after the cudgel found its mark again and again.

His opponent seemed to have overcome the awkwardness of his limp, working with it to beat Psii to a pulp. Psii jabbed futilely with his smaller knife, but a clip to the head sent blood streaming down his face into his eyes. Blind, he could only throw his arms up in defense. His second knife slipped from his hand into the snow now peppered with dark yellow blood.

Trolls took a few extra hits before they could go down. Even with the pain of several broken bones, Psii struggled in the snow. Only when he bled enough to impair motot functions did he finally stay put, wheezing with each hit.