Skidding to a halt to survey the scene, the snarling ugly cur immediately taking notice of the overly confident dwarf. Out of the corner of his eye Moritus spies that clever halfling creeping toward the flank of the creature but trending toward the shadows as the lengthen in the setting sun.
The lips hidden in his thick red beard pucker to a high whistle. “HEY!!! You must have suckled at the teet of the ugliest bitch this side of Neverwinter. That thing on your back must be the fattest tick, I have yet to lay eyes on.”
Your voice cracks in the song and you play a few notes wrong, but you’re able to plunk out a few lame chords. Everyone else side glances at you quizzically, but keeps most of their attention on the the goblin commando