Typical Chatter: I've heard that mortals are a short-lived race, too short-lived to acquire wisdom. Let us put this proposition to the test. Perhaps first a lesson on showing proper respect is in order.[Doesn't take any sass.]

I believe my lord and lover may have underestimated you, mortal. It is not a mistake I will make. But I must admit to a certain tingling of curiosity in anticipation of your actions, and your fate. And so I propose the following conditions. Do not offend against me, and I will not offend against you. Offend me, and expect no mercy. Do you agree? [An eminently reasonable offer.]

Typical Chatter: Your obsequious flattery has purchased you another moment of precious life. I shall torment your soul a moment longer before I send it into the darkness forever. [Sees through the surface level of a scam while snatching up the bait for the deeper ruse.]

You have interrupted my frolic! You thought you could come here to play? Now we will play with you! I shall sear your organs and shrivel your mortal soul with exquisite flame! [ A more colorful and impassioned style of threat.]

Typical Chatter: Come here, little manling. I won't hurt you. I just want to tell you a... secret. [What passes for cunning with these dim bulbs.]

Oh. You come back for some more, huh? You LIKE me a lot, huh? Yuk, yuk, yuk. Well, you come here and I put a pretty little kiss on you. [Banter. Sort of.]

Typical Chatter: Your form is pleasing, mortal. To mar such grace with weapons is a pity. I'd far prefer to wrestle. [Dubious and less-than-appetizing offer.]

Yes! I LOVE to talk while I fight. What shall we talk about? Wounds? Hot, dirty, monkey love? Splinters? Burns? [A little TOO intense.] Hey. I got to tell you. My venom? It's gonna make you flop like a noodle poodle. And when you're flopping? Hooowee! Then comes my special sharp-claw dance. La-la-la! [Cheerful threats. Light-hearted, capering evil.]