Chengizz had been mid-sentence when the Dwarf appeared and started waving his pistols about the place. 

"You wanna tussle, Blighta'?" He snarled, his nimble fingers already coiling around the hilt of his sword. 

Even by dwarf standards, this one looked well-built, what with his barrel chest and broad shoulders, although his distinct lack of a left arm was worth noting. 

"If I was tryin' ta catch ye off guard I'd behind a bush, not out 'ere in the open, like. Feckin' half-wit." 

The Hobgoblin's beady eyes fell upon the pistol which was being aimed at him. 

"Gonna smoke us from afar, are ya?" Chengizz sneered "Thought you types were supposed to be tough." 

As he spoke the greenskin was carefully using his free-hand to shimmy his harpy knife out of its scabbard on his back. Should the dwarf rush him, he was more than willing to shiv him in the gut.