Zuraugh, the Egotistical Orc

You'd love to see that monkey dance. For the entire trip he had been climbing up the wrong tree, throwing inane insults at your now defunct musical ability, at least this way you'd have something to show for it.

Zuraugh is sitting on a stump by his tent, carving misgivings into the wood by his legs - hah... He takes notice of your approach, half-heartedly pulling a dagger from his boot. "Aye, Bard?"

Where only moments ago this orc had his pants beneath his ankles, he had returned to his old 'chipper' self, feigning (hopefully) an intent to gut you right there for bothering him.

"I would like something of you."

The orc piques a shaved brow, sheathing his dagger back from whence it came. "Well, spill it!"