Thranok grew increasingly impatient with the Satyr's presence, and this magnified itself tenfold when the beast thought it wise to put itself within close proximity of his axe. The Dwarf made to behead the creature in one fluent and powerful swing, gleeful to be ending the nonsense once and for all - but then he stopped, as the Satyr mentioned goblins and worgs, on down the road. 

Before he could put questions to the trickster, Thranok's makeshift companions beat him to it. The Elf questioned the Satyr's credibility (maybe Elves weren't so stupid after all!), and the Prince's kinsman, a blacksmith who seemed to have a mysterious intelligence befitting someone of a higher role in life, decided that the group should trust the creature. 

"Bah," Thranok snorted, spitting at the ground in front of his kinsman. "Yer sense 'o things be as weak as yer beard, brother. Aint no good that can come from the likes 'o this pointy eared prick."

Not for the first time that day, Thranok hefted his axe at the Satyr. "Got's me one question fer ya," he said, "yer say tha' road be blocked by goblins 'n worgs. How many goblins, and how many worgs? Maybe I can be gleamin' me some truth from yer tricks 'n nonsense."

The Prince thought it likely that the Satyr was trying to lead the caravan down another route, that did indeed have a host of goblins and worgs. On the other hand, it was possible that he was telling the truth - that he was a freak Satyr that possessed no want to cause mischief. Either way, the Prince wanted to know just how much resistance the caravan was likely to face, one way or the other. If the Trickster came out with a bloated number, Thranok would assume there were just a few goblins and their dogs, but if the Trickster came out with a low number, he'd bet his father's kingdom on there being an entire army of the critters.