As soon as the blasted greenskin was out of sight, Sketti came stomping around the bend in the road. He stopped as soon as his eyes fell upon the ruin that was Guilamuero castle. He scratched his beard, and spit into the dirt. The Engineer shook his shaggy head, crest swaying in the air. Manlings would live in anything these days. He'd not seen such shoddy stonework since he'd visited Sylvania for a winter, passing through. 

He had gotten used to Manlings the past 50 years, but this was still pushing it. The image of Gold in his head quickly made him remember this was all worth it. He'd probably get to slay some greenskins after all, he thought with a hearty chuckle. Hefting his pack and scratching his meaty chest with his metal appendage, he strode forward with a purpose, passing the bridge and the open gatehouse. 

He'd have to talk to this supposed madman about the hovel he was living in. A toddler could improve this place, imagine what he could do? Despite his constant thoughts of the amount of disarray, he was much less harsher than many other Dwarfs he knew, and he was very giddy to get to killing and being paid. He needed some more funds to help his next engineering project. He made his way up the stairs, knowing his way through the stonehalls as if he had been born and raised among them. He stomped into the feasting hall where he heard voices. "Oi! Is this the madman's castle or am I wasting my time at-" 
His beard bristled and his eyes popped open at the farce of a meeting before him. "Grobi!" he cried, and pulled one of his pistols. "Ye'll not get me off guard ye durned uncreative greenskin!"