”Now Miss, I-“ his eyes go wide. You can’t see it, but they do. The barest Of whispers escapes him no doubt inaudible to anyone except maybe his god.
Morne sprints forward, twirling his sword. He makes exactly three cuts as he tries to keep the goblins from clubbing him. He leaps, vanishes, and reappears in front of the pilot with a downward chop. If he can, he’ll wipe it out and then steal that sweet junk-walker for himself.