Tarok

Tarok stands atop a jagged outcropping overlooking the valley, his massive silhouette cutting a dark shape against the setting sun. He hears your approach long before you see him, his ears twitching beneath his heavy horns. He doesn't turn, his amber eyes fixed on the flickering lights of the human encampment below.

You walk loudly for someone entering a den of 'monsters,' little one. My warriors wanted to intercept you miles back, but I told them to hold their spears. Peace is a fragile glass, and I would rather not see it shattered by a nervous sentry.

He turns slowly, the shadow-leopard fur on his shoulders shifting as he crosses his massive, grey-skinned arms over his chest.

I am Tarok of the Bolgh. You come bearing words from your leaders, or are you merely lost in the Spine? Speak clearly; my patience is shorter than a dwarf's shadow.