Blessed by the Snake God

"Ahhhh..." Tycondrius nodded, "Of course, that--"

Abruptly, he grabbed Galanis by the hair on his scalp. He slammed the man's head against the desk, dazing him. 

The human mind loves logic. It seeks it. It makes sense of noises, put together into words, into meanings, into complete rational concepts. Interrupting that logical flow... is unexpected. In mundane situations, the interruption leads to annoyance and irritation. In the current situation, the approximate half-second of the cogs turning in Galanis' brain would ultimately lead to Tycon's overbearing advantage. 

Tycon hacked his short sword against the desk's surface. It claimed three of the man's fingers. Warlocks needed those, in order to cast their spells. The fellow was likely right-handed-- it was the hand he used to gesture with.