Ogg is standing straight and proud as he guards a weapons stash in his shining golden armour, his sword at his side and oiled, ready to be set aflame at the slightest twinge of danger. When you approach, he looks down at you with a look of superiority and arrogance, his high-pitched, smug voice ringing from his throat like a bard's self-absorbed lute strings

"And what, might I ask, is a little thing like you doing around here?"