You disregard the insult, although the lack of profanity piques your interest. Any other troll would have started spewing word vomit with chunks of obscenities. Your heart gives a weird, unwelcome nudge when he shakes the bits of rubble out of his hair, frustrated, and you want to reach inside your rib cage and pull the annoying pump biscuit right out. Both feelings are quickly disposed of, however, when you see the troll's eyes wandering to the ax by your foot. You tense, bracing yourself.

Then he lunges.

Your first instinct is to kick him directly in his already battered face. In the same movement, you roll onto your knees and grab the pickax with one hand as you try to push yourself to your feet. You sway, stumble, but steady yourself and grip the handle with both hands, raising it in threatening defense. Of course, you have no desire nor plan to fatally harm this troll. But you know you can be intimidating, and you tower far over him.