Before leaving, Malin glanced at the half-blood, who still seemed not to have recovered from his brother's death. Malin tapped his shoulder with spiritual energy, and only then did the big fellow come around.
He seemed unsure of what to do. This lad wasn't a Frost Giant, but likely a mixed-blood from the giants of the southern regions of old Europe, his eyes full of grievance as he looked at Malin: "Sir, you might as well kill me."
Malin shook his head; the gnome who was already raising his pistol saw it instantly disintegrate into a pile of parts in his hand.
"Why, Sir, do you need me to pick up the gun from the ground before you're willing to kill me?" The half-blood seemed so aggrieved he was close to tears.
