Thranok's axe sunk itself into the soft earth, the head almost entirely submerged in the soil and grass. The Satyr pranced away merrily, as the Dwarf realised the trickster had completely evaded his attack. 

"Get back 'ere, ya wee bastard," the Prince wheezed, perspiration running down his brow. "Will skin yer hide, I will!" 

With a grunt, he heaved his axe from the earth, and stalked towards his foe - who had perched itself upon a wagon, and whose tune had picked up in pace. Those who had collapsed to slumber, were quickly waking in response to the song's change of tempo. Thranok smiled gleefully; they'd have that beast's head on a platter. 

"Face me, yer cowward," Thranok started to say, before another stranger chimed in. The Prince looked at the approaching figure, and quickly deemed it to be a Dragonborn male. He raised an eyebrow when he realised the warrior was coated in glistening mithril. "Well, this be gettin' interestin'," he muttered under his breath. 

The Satyr changed its focus to the new comer, and jumped into hearty conversation. The Prince held back, deeming it wise to see if the Dragonborn could subdue the creature peacefully... not that he had much of a preference to the Satyr's end state, of course.