Baldur's Gate series Quotations

This article is a collection of memorable quotes from the Baldur's Gate series of role-playing games, developed by BioWare and published by Interplay.

Baldur's Gate (1998) & Baldur's Gate: Tales of the Sword Coast (1999)

Minsc

Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, watch it! I'm huge!
Magic is impressive, but now Minsc leads! Swords for everyone!
You point, I punch.
Evil 'round every corner. Careful not to step in any.
Take heart fellow adventurers, for you have curried the favor of Boo, the only miniature giant space hamster in the Realm!
There is strength in numbers, and I am two or three, at least.
The bigger they are, the harder I hit!
(when berserking): Fear not! I will inspire you all by charging blindly on!
(When hiding in shadows) None shall see me, though my battlecry may give me away.
(on casting failure) I turned around to shield Boo and I lost my spell. I am not sorry.
(to his pet hamster Boo, when battle is imminent): Go for the eyes Boo, GO FOR THE EYES!! RrraaaAAGHGHH!!!
(on failure to do damage with equipped weapon): I hit, to no effect!? I need a bigger sword!
Boo: *squeak*
Minsc: Boo says "WHAT?"
Camaraderie, adventure, and steel on steel. The stuff of legend! Right Boo?
Butt-kicking! For goodness!
(when in a Town) Cities always teem with evil and decay. Let's give it a good shake and see what falls out!
Minsc will lead with blade and boot! Boo will take care of the details.
Jump on my sword while you can evil, I won't be as gentle!
We are all heroes: You and Boo and I. Hamsters and rangers everywhere! Rejoice!
Squeaky wheel gets the kick!
Live by the sword, live a good looong time.
See battle Boo? Run, Boo, run!
Ooo, squirrels, Boo! I know I saw them! Quick, throw nuts!
Feel the backhand of Justice!

Sarevok

"I will be the last! And you will go first... Heh hehehehe..."
"Heh, I do not fear death... do you?"
"Killing is our father's work; embrace it as I have!"
"You are indeed family. No other could have lived to oppose me in person. Of course it will not matter in the end. Ultimately I will prevail, and a new era will be born unto the realms."
"Face ME! FACE THE NEW LORD OF MURDER!"
"You remind me of myself...before I was slaughtered and cast into the Abyss."
"Death comes for you! Feel its icy breath!"
"A shame the manner of this man's death prevents us from restoring him to life - my interrogations could have brought us much information!"
"I live! Flesh and blood and bone! I AM ALIVE! HAHAHAHAHA! I swore I would scratch and crawl my way back into the world of the living, and I have DONE IT!"
"Ah, yes. Stoke that infernal wrath of yours. I can feel the anger within you, boiling like a pit of sulphur in the crevices of your heart. You feel it, do you not? The taint that surrounds your soul like a serpent, squeezing it, spreading its venom... that taint, that wrath exists in all of the children of Bhaal, but few know how to use it."
"I can teach you how to use your wrath. You can control the taint, direct it, summon it at will. You can become the Slayer at will and become the weapon of murder that you were meant to be! So think of me. Think of how I destroyed your precious Gorion, how I plundered the lives of your Candlekeep. Summon your rage, stir the depths of your black heart! Summon wrath. Summon wrath and become it, for if you cannot, then you are not worthy of Bhaal's blood. It should have been I. It should have been I! ATTACK ME, WORM, IF YOU DARE!!!"

The protagonist

I know you said that you wouldn't tolerate excuses, but we have a real good one.
Forsooth, methinks you are no ordinary talking chicken!
Is it just me, or is the world filled with wackos? Okay, Mr. Psycho gnome, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but we're really not interested in your rock garden.
Sorry, Aldeth, but we're siding with the druids. They have this great Aloe-Vera balm they are giving away samples of, and my armor has been chafing a bit, ya know?
No, we're not mercenaries. We just carry weapons and kill things for the joy of the experience.
(to Portalbendarwinden): Ok, I've just about had my FILL of riddle asking, quest assigning, insult throwing, pun hurling, hostage taking, iron mongering, smart arsed fools, freaks, and felons that continually test my will, mettle, strength, intelligence, and most of all, patience! If you've got a straight answer ANYWHERE in that bent little head of yours, I want to hear it pretty damn quick or I'm going to take a large blunt object roughly the size of Elminster AND his hat, and stuff it lengthwise into a crevice of your being so seldom seen that even the denizens of the nine hells themselves wouldn't touch it with a twenty-foot rusty halberd! Have I MADE myself perfectly CLEAR?!
Why are you so fat?
Utterly amazing! You spoke so long, but you didn't say anything.
You know what I always say? "Always kill the mouthy one", that's what I always say.
Thank you for the compliment. Shall we kill you now or would you rather beg for a time?
(Facetiously) I am Dinkamus Littlelog and I come in search of the holy groundhog.
(When caught stealing) DIE! POND SCUM!
(Facetiously) We're a horde of rampaging Tarrasques! Krie! Krie!
(to Maple Willow Aspen) So, did your parents like trees?
(Facetiously) I am Foolio Displasius, Destroyer of the Seven Suns! Raagh!

Tiax

Tiax rules all!!!
You are but grease stains on the wheel of time compared to Tiax!
Tiax does as ye will, but one day... BOOM! He rules! Heh-heh.
The day comes when Tiax will point and click!
Ya lil' monkey-spanker.
When Tiax rules, breeches shall not ride up so wedge-like!
(running away): Tiax will rule... From a distance.
You have disturbed Tiax the Grand again! Such insolence! Tiax will place a mark of shame upon your forehead! All will know your treachery! (casts)
Eh... it would appear that... the great and... mighty Tiax... has shrunk his undergarments... three sizes this day.
Excuse... the mighty Tiax... while he catches his... his breath... He will rule... later.
Who dares prod Tiax?
(On Quayle's death) Ha Ha! Smart guy dies! But Tiax goes on to RULE!

Xan

We're all doomed.
We delude ourselves to think that our pitiable band will stand up to our enemies.
Life is so hollow.
Oh, what is the point?
Our quest is vain.
Let us save our effort and just lie down and die!
I'll do what I can, but expect very little.
( If the character has a high reputation) With you around, I almost feel that we have a chance!
Sunrise! And I'm amazed we live to see another day!
Onward, to futility!
I surely shall collapse from exhaustion before I fall on the battlefield.
(In cities) The bluster of the city makes me feel... insignificant.

Xzar

*Dur* Tell me 'bout the raaabits...
I ate his liver with a nice Chianti and some Fava beans.
(high-pitched quasi-female voice) Stop TOUCHING me!!
(yelling) Montaron, you are so AGGRAVATING! (hushed) 'Tis disturbing to my demeanor!
I never like the sunlight. It's just too bright.
I know dragons with feet like rabbits, 'tis true I swear!
I wanted infravision like the elves... But 'tis more than just taking their eyes...
Smiles, everyone, smiles! (squeaky, squirrel'ish voice) This is like some great fantasy!
Mommy, I'm-a-scared!
I'll teach ya grandmother to suck eggs.
Those the Gods wish to destroy, they first make mad, mad, mad!
(On the death of Montaron) Montaron! I...I never loved you!
I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds!
Your voice is ambrosia.
(when injured:squealing) Mommy! I don't feel so good!
(squeaky, squirrel-ish voice) Tell us a story, Monty! Something 'bout bears and gold!

Various

Alora: I don't think you are happy enough! I'll teach you to be happy!
Alora: Happy-happy joy-joy!
Angelo: Justice may be blind... but I'm not.
Chanter: The Lord of Murder shall perish. But in his doom he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny. Chaos will be sown from their passage. So sayeth the wise Alaundo.
Commoner: Miserable day, it is. I think I got Sune's Horizontal Dancing Disease.
Davaeorn: So the stoic adventurers have found their way down to my lair.
Davaeorn: Why have you come? Is it to steal my riches? - or perhaps you seek to righteously punish me for my affront to your morality. It matters little, for you will do neither. Before I dispose of you in some horribly gruesome manner perhaps I should introduce myself. I am known as Davaeorn; I would ask you for your names but I care little to become acquainted with the dead.
Drizzt Do'Urden: DON'T POKE DRIZZT! 'Tis entirely unsociable.
Duncan: Hey, don't click me! I don't want any trouble!
Edwin: Elminster this, Elminster that. Give ME 2000 years and a pointy hat and I'll kick his arse!
Edwin: Please don't disturb me while I'm plotting to overthrow you.
Edwin: I do not understand this... 'mouse magic' that makes me do thine bidding.
Edwin (upon Dynaheir's death): Checkmate! The witch is dead!
Elminster: Whoa, Lord. It's hard to be humble when you're perfect in every way.
Flaming Fist: I AM the law!
Garrick (running away): Brave-brave Sir Garrick, Sir Garrick led the way. Brave-brave Sir Garrick, Sir Garrick ran away (a reference to the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail: "Brave Sir Robin ran away" etc.).
Generic Ogre: Me will crush you! Crush you to GOO!
Generic Ogrillon: You mess with me, you mess with YOU!
Gorion: Ah... my child, I am glad I have found you!
Gorion: Listen carefully. If we should ever become separated, it is imperative that you make your way to the Friendly Arm Inn. There, you will meet Khalid and Jaheira. They have long been my friends, and you can trust them.
Ike: There's a sucker born every minute... and you are right on time.
Imoen: Heya! It's me, Imoen.
Imoen: I've done had enough of this.
Jaheira: You are amusing, in a "what the hell is wrong with you" kind of way.
Jaheira: If a tree falls in a forest... I'll kill the bastard what done it!
Khalid: Click on someone your own size!
Khalid (running away): Better part of valour! Better part of valour!
Lord Binky The Buffoon: You need a new tailor, your clothes are absolutely dreadful!
Mad Arcand: There be pheasants and penguins and booberry trees between the greenest of skies and the whitest of seas (wertle-wertle-wertle-woo, wertle-woooo...)
Beggar: *COUGH* ...M-my lung! I-it's flopping all over the dirt! Damn.
Montaron: What part of "I'm a loner" do ye not understand?!
Montaron: Ye goody-goodies make me sick!
Most Radiant of Lathander, Kelddath Ormlyr: Don't touch me; I'm super-important!
Narrator: You must gather your party before venturing forth.
Nimbul: I am death, come for thee. Surrender, and thy passage shall be... quicker.
Nobleman: I thank you for not stealing the pantaloons, and I will thank you kindly not to mention the stuffing in the codpiece.
Nobleman: Away with you beggar . . . .
Noober: Everyone in town used to throw rocks at me and tell me I was annoying. I once knew this guy named Dilby. He threw rocks at me too. Are you gonna throw rocks at me? What about now?
Noober: What about now?
Portalbendarwinden: Ehhh... insights? Um... Never take raisins from rabbits, never spit in a man's face unless his moustache is on fire, and don't take any wooden knickers unless you've a good supply of salve.
Priest Of Oghma: These walls contain the world's knowledge.
Priest of Oghma: Wisdom is only possessed by the learned.
Quayle: I am so smart! S-M-R-T... I mean S-M-A-R-T.
Quayle: Feel my amazing brain. Go on, touch it!
Skie: I have a cold...
Taerom "Thunderhammer" Fuiruim: I can make whatever you wish for a wee little bit more than me competition.
Tenya: Stop! You are tresspassing on my land-home!
The Great Gazib: Hi, come well and welcome! You have stumbled upon The Great Gazib Show, starring yours truly, the Great Gazib!!! Allow me to introduce the Amazing Oopah, the world's only exploding ogre!
The Great Gazib: You're either a die-hard fan or a sadist, friend... (No, Oopah, just one more, one last one, then you can go back to the tent... Oopah, put the weapon down -- Oopah?) AA-a-ieee! (Oopah appears and attacks the party)
Well-Adjusted Al: Hi, I'm Well-Adjusted Al, and my prices are sensible. I used to be called Crazy Al, but therapy has convinced me that selling plate armour for 3 gold pieces and a small duck was no way to get ahead in business.
Winthrop: My old tavern's as clean as an Elven arse!

Interactions

Andarsson: There are two reasons I pound this pick against these rocks. Do you wish to hear them?

Protagonist: Yes. I would.

Andarsson: First because I imagine this rock to be my captor's skull. Second, because the meager spark that leaps from my attempt is all the light I'll ever know again. If you be a new slave like I once was, you shall learn these simple truths soon enough.

Drasus: Draw your daggers and spells and let's have at 'er! You've crossed our employers and this is as far as you're going to go, my friend. Should've known that lazy bounty hunting rabble wouldn't get the job done. Never settle for second best, I always say!

Protagonist: You want to know what I always say? "Always kill the mouthy one," that's what I always say.

Drasus: HAW! A good saying! I will use your head for a puppet and make it say it over and over while we drink large amounts of mead! Life is pretty good, you know?

Emissary Tar: At last, someone who looks like they could be of some assistance! The assorted boobs and dimwits around here have been of very little help.

Protagonist: I'm afraid you have mistaken us for someone else. I'm Dimwit, this is my good friend Boob, and behind me you'll find Brainless and Moron. How do you do?

Gorion: Let's hurry child! The night can only get worse so we must find shelter soon. Don't worry, I will explain everything as soon as there is time. Wait! There is something wrong. We are in an ambush. Prepare yourself!

Sarevok: You're perceptive for an old man. You know why I'm here. Hand over your ward and no one will be hurt. If you resist it shall be a waste of your life.

Gorion: You're a fool if you believe I would trust your benevolence. Step aside and you and your lackeys will be unhurt.

Sarevok: I'm sorry that you feel that way old man.

Gorion: Run, child, get out of here!

Guard: Halt! Where do you think you're going?

Protagonist: Upstairs. Where do YOU think you're going?

Guard: The entrance tax is 6 gold pieces for each party of travellers. Please announce your point of origin.

Protagonist: The mystical land of frolicking naked nymphs, where your every desire is granted by bald blubbering bugbears. Hee! Hee!

Kryla: Oh, please help me! They kill poor Jondal!

Protagonist: If this Jondal is dead, then he is weak and should never have been born.

Larze: Huurm, I be Larze. You be Protagonist. Don't try to deny it. You should not have come to Baldur's Gate. You given many warnings before, but you ignore them. Now you must pay. Sorry, but Larze must kill.

Protagonist: Wait one moment you big oaf. Why would you think that I'm Protagonist? Do I look like I could be that kind of hero? Protagonist is a juggernaut of destruction, with flaming eyes, and a roaring voice. My companions and I, we're just normal folks.

Larze: Huh? But you must be Protagonist. Me see picture, and it look like you. It had no fire eyes or big voice, though pictures don't have voices. Hmmmmm. I confused.

Protagonist: Larze, my poor confused ogre. There is only one thing for you to do. You have to go back and take a closer look at the picture. I'm sure once you've had a second look, you'll know what a big mistake you've made. Now run along, we'll be waiting right here.

Larze: Yes! Good idea. Larze will find picture and see for sure. You will wait here until Larze gets back.

Maple Willow Aspen: WHAT?! You were going to ask about my name, weren't you? Everyone wants to know about it, and you're probably no different! Well fine! Maple Willow Aspen IS my name and YES my parents were VERY fond of TREES! I am VERY aware of it, and NO don't want to hear ANY jokes about family trees and me being the SAP! Are you HAPPY NOW?!

Protagonist: Actually, I was just interested in directions.

Maple Willow Aspen: DIRECT...um...d-d-irections? You mean you don't...well then, *cough* What can I help you with?

Marl: Oh you think it's funny do you?! You mess up the local economy with your treasure, you upset the balance of nature, you flash your magic around, and because of it maybe somebody's son thinks it's fun and goes out and gets himself killed! It's a bad example and somebody ought to kick your ass for it!

Protagonist: Don't get mad at me if "somebody's son" couldn't handle being out from under mom's skirt! Should've taught him to fight instead of dirt-farming!

Mellicamp the Chicken: Th... thank ye... (cluck). You have saved (cluck) me.
Protagonist:
1. Forsooth! Methinks you are no ordinary talking chicken!
2. I fear I have taken one too many blows to the head! Next I'll be hearing hamsters speak!
3. A-a-a-ah!!! Unholy magics are afoot! This chicken is possessed! This bird is FOUL!!!

Protagonist: What makes you think you are going to rule everything? That's a pretty big job for such a... diminutive fellow.

Tiax: Have ye no ears to hear?! It is as Tiax said! DESTINY! Cyric himself will lift Tiax "on-high," hurtling me to my rightful place when the time comes! You shall all be as ants before my grace, though slightly larger ants than the norm if you help me.

Protagonist: So your whole belief system centers around some celestial midget-toss? Count me out. I'm not a member of the 'Up With Dwarves League,' you know!

Khalid: I don't want to seem c-confrontational, but could you be a little less... well... evil?

Montaron: Ye live longer if ye don't annoy me. Mayhaps even a week or more.

Guard: You wouldn't kill a man with a wife and ten children, would you?

Protagonist: No way, you've got a fate worse than death already.

Winthrop: Aye, now there's the rapscallion! Set on the little wisp, now, and make every bolt count!

Protagonist: Winthrop, you old fool! If I had an arrow for every one of these practical jokes you've played on me, I'd... I'd... I don't know, I'd have a lot of arrows! Well met, my friend.

Winthrop: Yes, ye'd run me right out of the fletching business in a flash, ye would! It's good to see your impish face again! Now fill me in on what it is ye've been doing lately.

Protagonist: I've been adventuring, Winthrop. There's a world out there and it needs a righteous old kick in the arse every now and again, doesn't it?

Winthrop: Spoken with the wisdom of a true fool! By the gods, I love this bastard child!

Baldur's Gate II: Shadows of Amn (2000) & Throne of Bhaal (2001)

Cespenar the Imp

What? You uses sling? What is you, a big sissy?
Mmm... old rations? Do you clean pack sometimes or just pretend?
What's this? Stale cookie? (munching noises) Ugh... that is no cookie...
Mmm? What's this? You gots hammer? Bhaal once drop hammer on big godly toe. Jump around and swear for days, he did. Kicked poor me all the way to Baator. Very bad week, that.
Oooo... big weapon, this. You over-compensating, maybe?
Umm... Cespenar only serve the Great One. You'se nice maybe, but you'se still a nobody.
Mm. Cool bastard sword, oh yes. Why bastard, you think? No parent?
I keep looking, but I runnings out of recipes soon. Needs to find Martha, soon. She around Hell somewhere, I thinks.
Stupid friggin' Bhaal... (indistinct grumbling) ...not even a friggin' pension!
What's this? A book? Is good bedtime readings, maybe? Oh. Is Tome of Golems. Yuck! BOR-ing!
Ooo! Shiny ones!

Edwin Odesseiron

Greetings. I am Edwin Odesseiron. You simians may refer to me merely as "Sir," if you prefer a less... syllable-intensive workout.
Edwin do this, EDWIN DO THAT... somebody get this jerk a banana.
Well, it would seem the leader of our little group has impregnated the impressionable circus child. And here I thought she was merely getting chubby without the ring master's whip to keep her in shape.
I'm busy, okay? I'm BUSY.
(Annoyed tone) O, YES, MASTER. What shall I FETCH NOW?!
Have you nothing else to do but bother me?!
Go bother someone else!
(Grumbling) One day... one day...
(Leaving the party in the Pocket Plane) Well certainly! There is soo much to keep a great magus such as myself busy here! Look! A rock! How fascinating!
Could my opinion of this group drop any lower? Evidently so.

Jan Jansen

There goes a truly evil man. Uncle Scratchy looks like a saint compared to him.
You know, this reminds me of that time, wa-a-a-ay back...
[on a critical hit] Take that, turnip-hatin' scum!
Beware! Your knees are mine!
(burps) Pardon, turnip reflex.
I can't! I'm allergic! Well, all right, I'm not that allergic...
I think we make a fine partnership, like Drizzt and Wulfgar! Elminster and Volo! Heh, we should go into the mobile vegetable peddling business together!
Well, there's a lesson in there somewhere, I suppose. Never whip a sick ogre? Never tell someone twice your size to pick something up? Never boss someone around unless you can run faster than they can? Aha! If you're going to hire ogres, give them sick days and benefits or they will kill you. Yes... that about sums it up, I think.
Whooo... all this talk of Umar brings back memories, let me tell you! My great-great-cousin One-Knee was one of the adventurers that hunted the Great Witch of the Hills a long time ago. Said she had a fondness for little children and that her house was made out of chocolate candy, of all things. Personally, a house made of turnips sounds much more appealing, but One-Knee stated decisively that the house was delicious, nevertheless. According to his stories, the witch was dead... something about getting shoved in an oven... but then Grammy Jansen said that One-Knee was pretty delusional, so who knows?
[in Hell] Whoa! This place looks just like... it reminds me of.. this is just like that time I... hm. I don't think anything like this has ever happened to me before...
[before the final battle] Some villains refuse to die. Kill 'em once, kill 'em twice, they just keep coming back. It's just like a bad play. Here's hoping for a decent ending...
[after being resurrected with Keldorn in the party] Greetings, everyone. Sorry, no gifts or souvenirs this time but I'll keep you all in mind the next time I'm gone. Oh, Keldorn: the gods say 'hi' and that you should wash your underwear more thoroughly. Everyone ready? Let's go adventuring.
Oh, yes indeed. It reminds me of my Cousin, Tyllie Fleetknees, and the garden she had at the foot of a dryad tree in the Forest of Wyrms. I tell you, she went up expecting well-aerated soil and did she get a surprise? Oh yes indeed! Why, I remember it like it was burned into my memory with a flaming stick, which was very close to the truth actually...
Well, there goes the wizard with a body in tow. Not the sort of thing you see every day unless you happen to be living with a necromancer. I did, once, when I was working for Golodon. He used to come into the tower every second day with a body over his shoulder. I would look at him all suspicious-like and ask him where he found it, and he would just shrug and say vaguely, "oh... around". It took me a while, but eventually I decided Golodon wasn't being entirely above-board with me on the body issue. Since then, I've never trusted a wizard with more arms and legs than he was born with... unless he's been polymorphed, of course, but even then it's usually wisest to keep your distance.
[after sunset] I've had this little problem ever since I was a wee gnome. When it gets dark, everybody glows red. Frightens a child something fierce...

Jon Irenicus

Must I be interupted at every turn? Enough of this!
Typical. If I had a sense of humor left I might find that funny. I do not, on both accounts.
Ahhh, the child of Bhaal has awoken. It is time for more...'experiments'... The pain will only be passing; you should survive the process...
You dare to attack me here? Do you even KNOW whom you face? You will suffer! You will ALL suffer!
You know nothing of me! You know nothing of what I must do! You will suffer! You will all suffer!
Life... is strength. That is not to be contested; it seems logical enough. You live; you affect your world. But is it what you want? You are... different inside. This woman lives and has strength of a sort. She lost her parents to plague, her husband to war, but she persevered. Her farm prospered, her children are well-fed, and her name respected throughout her land. She lived as she thought she should. And now she is dead. Her land will be divided, her children will move on, and she will be forgotten. She lived a good life, but she had no real power; she was a slave to death. I wonder if you are destined to be forgotten as she was. Will your life fade in the shadow of greater beings?
You are but a gnat, compared to my power.
Silence child, allow this fool to make his judgment.
She resists. She clings to her old life as if it actually matters. She will learn.
The curse that was wrought against Bodhi and I has ceased, and yours has begun. You will wither, you will wane, and you will die.
Silence dog! You have no purpose but to die by my hand!
Do you cling to the past or can you see through the pain?
Your actions affect so many others than yourself. You will come to realise how little choice you have. You will do what you must, become what you must, or others will pay for your cowardice. You *will* accept the gifts offered to you.
Follow, and receive the gift you are owed by the blood in your veins. Follow, if only to protect the weak that fell because of you.
I cannot be caged! I cannot be controlled! Understand this as you die, ever pathetic, ever fools!
No, you'll warrant no villain's exposition from me.
I bid you farewell, Child of Bhaal. We shall not meet again.
You walk as a mortal, taking no advantage from your heritage, from your talents within. So many things of flesh are greater than you. Walk among them, these beasts that are less than you are. See their strength; see how easily you fall to their muscle and skill. Why do you stand for this? Why do you submit to the flesh when death is bred in your bones? Do you realise the power you might hold? When the world of flesh is beneath you, even creatures mysterious and magical will fall!
I... I do not remember your love, Ellesime. I have tried to. I have tried to recreate it, to spark it anew in my memory. But it is gone... a hollow, dead thing. For years, I clung to the memory of it. Then the memory of the memory. And then nothing. The Seldarine took that from me, too. I look upon you and I feel nothing. I remember nothing but you turning your back on me, along with all the others. Once my thirst for power was everything. And now I hunger only for revenge. And... I... Will... HAVE IT!!
You bore me, mageling!

Korgan Bloodaxe

Ye know, bag of tricks: ye and I are nay so different. Ye fetch awe with eye of newt and tongue of salamander, I with battle-axe and blood-lust.
Be aware, Mazzy, I've something long, hard and low to the ground ye're free to touch and fondle. Child, no need to glare! 'Twas me axe I were referring to.
Aye, now this be more like it! The first t' disobey me orders, gets an axe in their skull.
Let's see what yer guts be lookin' like!
[to Aerie] If I wanted to listen to yer yip, ye prissy elf, I’d pull ye over my knee and smack yer bottom. At least then I’d have meself something interesting to do while ye blathered on.
Aye! Great! BLASTED BLOODY WONDERFUL! Aye, let's go take on bloody TROLLS to get this man's gong back... and for NO REWARD, mind ye! I've a mind to go back to yon tavern and kick his BLOODY ARSE!
Well, that's one fine mess that I done cleaned up. They did the killin', but I ends up with the gold, the book, and the satisfaction of kickin' their tails. Aah, a good day...
[grumbling] ...bloody forest... damn tree-huggers and daisy-eaters... burn 'em all...
Aerie! Aerie! Cease yer whining! I'd swear on me father's coalcart ye were one o' them fey elves, with all the blasted crying coming from ye.
[grumbling] ...and they think to call this civilization! Blasted bloody humans...
[upon arriving in the pocketplane in ToB] Dang and bloody blast it! I swear I be thrice-damned the way ye yank me about from one place to the bloody next 'ere since we met! What does ye want now?

Lilarcor

So, are we gonna kill something now?
I know! Find someone rich, and kill them! Then find someone richer, and kill them too! Hack and slash your way to fortune! Whoo-hoo!!
I'm sharp, I can come up with something... OK... find someone who knows what you want to know and threaten to kill them! Yeah! Then kill them! Woo-hoo!!!
I know! Start swinging! Eventually you'll lop off the head of someone important and then the good fights will REALLY start!
You know, once, long time ago, I was, like, a Moonblade.
Err... find that wizard guy. Yeah... find him and kill him. Kill kill kill kill KILL!! Whoo-hoo!!
My brother's a +12 Hackmaster!
Choke up, dolt, your grip's all-wrong!
What's my status? Since when do you care about me unless I'm impaled in something's guts? Oh well, fine, let me think for a minute... Well, as a matter of fact I would like to register a complaint. I want to kill a dragon. Right now. Go find one and kill it. That would be SO cool.
Murder! Death! Kill! Murder! Death! Kill! Bouah-ha-ha-ha!
Hands up, kiddies, who wants to die?
(sigh) ...come on...
(double sigh) Rassa-frackin' (grumbling) c'mon-c'mon-C'MON!!!
Come get some! Boo-yah!
YOINK!!! Got your nose!
You really need to clean me. I like to shine! Ha-ha-ha!
Kill it! Kill it quick before they're all gone!
Mwoo-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
Swish! Hot butta!
I refuse to answer any more questions until I'm cleaned and polished thoroughly. Grab a rag already!
I'm the best at what I do, and what I do ain't pretty! *laughs*
I think you need to take better care of me. I've got more chips than a blind beaver! I look like a second rate pig-poker!
You talking to me?
I love the smell of daisies in the morning!
Listen beefy, I may be an intelligent sword, but I've had no formal edjumacation.
You know, my last owner always said I was 'sharp' and 'edgy'. He was such an ass.
And that's for grandma, who said I'd never amount to anything more than a butterknife!
Kill! Kill! Kill! Yeah cool!!
I don't know what you have expected, but as a sword I'm pretty one-dimensional in what I waaant!!!
I don't chop wood, OK? I'm not an axe!

Haer'Dalis

I shouldn't wish to alarm anyone, but I just wanted to point out that Jan has failed to produce a story. Can the apocalypse be far?
Readier than a red-cheeked maiden, my friend!
I do not care o'ermuch for being prodded all the time...
Wouldn't you rather a tune? A sonnet, some grand melody? Fine, have it your way, my raven!
Ravens, ravens, drunk on freedom, do you not realise that there still be business to which we must attend? Quick, let us bring Mekrath's pretty jewel back to my playhouse where it might be more appreciated.
Ah... the role of the lowly supplicant. I know this path well, my raven. We much play the eager servants to these black-hearted elven folk, and step to their tune most lively. The alternative is to suffer their suspicious eyes and magics... and we know not what eyes already follow us. Best we do exactly as we are told, lest we be revealed, aye?
(before entering the Underdark) 'And the door stands agape, suddenly, and with great trepidation our heroes step into the dark interior of a lion's den'...
There's no resisting the muse of an artist, is there? By his tone, it seems all we can do is to travel to yon Promenade and find this... 'illithium', or whatever he named. Come, my raven, it could be a lark.
At last... Oblivion... (dies)

Minsc

Swords, not words!
Jump on my sword while you can, evil! I won't be as gentle!
Butt kicking for goodness!
Feel the burning stare of my HAMSTER and change your ways!
Full plate and packin' steel!
Every hamster has his day!
Boo points, I punch - it's a very simple relationship, but it is effective!
Minsc will be free! These bonds will not hold my wrath! Butts will be liberally kicked in good measure!
Oh... Oooh... ooh, you are a smart one! I understand now! You said what you did just to make me mad, mad enough to break free, ha ha! You are as smart as Boo sometimes!
Shall we go? The butts of evil await my bootprint!
Minsc will lead with blade and boot! Boo will take care of the details.
Despair not! I shall inspire you by charging blindly on!
Make way, villainy! Hero, coming through!
Minsc and Boo are ready to take the boot to the black butt of evil!
No effect?! I need a bigger sword!
I grow tired of shouting battle cries when fighting this mage. Boo will finish his eyeballs once and for all, so he does not rise again! Evil, meet my sword! SWORD, MEET EVIL!!
I turned to shield Boo and lost my spell... I am not sorry.
[about Boo] He mutters occasionally about fellow hamsters that will kill you all, but he is just moody, so don't worry. See how he glares? Shhh, we should leave him be.
Ah, we are all heroes: You and Boo and I... Hamsters and rangers everywhere REJOICE!!!
Be not sad, pretty waitress... will make them stop. Or else Minsc and Boo will deliver an order of booted butt stomping to the table of mean, ugly men!
, we must find this man who kidnaps children and disguises knights as monsters and apply a butt kicking for goodness! All must be avenged!
This is silly! Buttons are not how one escapes dungeons! I would smash the button and rain beatings liberally down on the wizard for playing such a trick!
[hiding in shadows] None shall see me... though my battle cry may give me away.
Squeaky wheel gets the KICK!
I trust those who prey on children no farther than they can be thrown, even if I manage to throw them pretty far!
I won't cry for the dead! I won't! Well, maybe a little... but I will staunch the tears with righteous fury!
What? Boo is outraged! See his fury! It's small, so look close. Trust me, it's there.
I have lost myself in your words but Boo thinks you're just ducky.
I would hate being forgotten in a bottle. It might depend somewhat on the type of bottle, but overall I expect the effect would be similar.
You should have given a sword, give a man a fish and he feeds himself for a day, give a man a sword and he can chow down on the meaty marrow of evil!
Don't teach my hamster to suck eggs!
A den of stinking evil! Cover your nose Boo! We will leave no crevice untouched!
I must have aid soon... Boo is too young to have to avenge me...
(About Sarevok's return) Eh? He is like a bad penny, this one. An armored, deep-voiced penny of most sinister evil!
[after the sun goes up] Ahh, I prefer the bright of day. Evil must be able to see the justice I dispense!
My anger is under complete control ! COMPLETE ! I'll control it as I rip limb from limb, I WILL control it as I pound head after head !

The protagonist

Poor little gnome. My heart bleeds. Yours will too.
(Interrupting Melissan as she explains Saradush's situation) I'm going to go out on a limb and guess it's my job to get everyone out from this "trap".
Fine, I'll do all the actual work. As usual.
(To Minsc) You stand as inspiration. You are practically the Avatar of Buttkicking.
(Before attacking the dragon Saladrex) Is it true that dragon meat tastes like chicken? Never mind, I’ll find out for myself.
We all know this is going to end in violence. Let's just cut right to the good stuff.
Maybe your grandiose vocabulary is a pathetic compensation for an insufficiency in the nether regions of your anatomy

Various Quotes

Aerie: I came to hell to help my friend! Who helps you, Irenicus? Demons? You're going to die alone and you know it!

Crazy Celvan: There once was a warrior true,
with the sense knocked out of him, too.
but in a hamster he found,
some wisdom profound,
and now where goes he goes his Boo!

Crazy Celvan: There once was a child of, of... oh my...

Dradeel: One has lots of time for reflection while waiting for the ENDLESS WAVES OF BAD DOGGIE WEREWOLF MONSTERS THAT CHEW YOUR TOES WHILE YOU SLEEP!!

Dradeel: Escape! Escape I will! No kennel will hold what is not doggy!

[He attempts to teleport out, only to reappear moments later.]

Dradeel: Freedom! Freed... Bloody hell!

Generic Gnome Character: I just came here to find some turnips, I swear!

Generic Gnome Character: You... you wouldn't hurt a gnome, would you?

Imoen: Just like old times. Well, except for the torture and all.

Imoen: (at a critical hit) Gotcha good.

Jaheira: Nature, take the life she gave!

Jaheira: If you think it is wise to do so... so much comes back to haunt us.

Jaheira: You speak as though you were dropped as a child... or kicked.

Jerry Jamtoes: You stop your glaring! I saw you glare! I'll bite yer kneecaps off, I will!

Keldorn Firecam: Do not take honor in fighting with my presence. Take honor in that you fight for good, for that is my source of strength(To Minsc after he mentions what a great honor it is to fight next to Keldorn).

Lonk the Sane: My job? Taking care of crazies like you. Making sure you don't go and hurt yourselves with your deviant powers. And cookies, I make cookies.

Lonk the Sane: [when the main character proposes a bribe] Worth to me? How much is a life going for these days? That new director Irenicus would have me quartered with his experiments. He's done it before.

Nalia: I am sorry for that extended exchange but he is such a bounder, such a... a manipulating... such a.. Oh, to Hades with the manners, he is a complete bastard, and calling him that insults bastards everywhere!

Saemon Havarian: Great Lord Desharik, you must believe that I am completely serious when I say: , GET HIM!!

Sarevok: I... live! Flesh and blood and bone! I am alive! Ha-ha! I swore I would scratch and crawl my way back into the world of the living... and I have done it!

Sarevok : A shame the manner of this man's death prevents us from restoring him to life - my interrogations could have brought us much information!

Spectator: What to do now? Hmmn... kill the imps. Yeah. Those bastards deserve to die.

Tiax: Tiax rules all! You are naught but grease for the wheels of his rule! Silence the squeaking of those that protest! He rules all!

Tiax: None stand where Tiax stands, lest he walk atop them.

Tiax: You will wear what face Tiax orders! Today he rules all!

Yoshimo: Hii-YAA! Heh heh, tourists love that stuff...

Yoshimo: I could dance on the head of a pin, as well.

Yoshimo: Very well... (sigh) Hii-ya.

Saladrex: My story is truly a grand tale! Of course, any story about me is going to be grand simply by virtue of the main character.

Party Interactions

Imoen: So... Sarevok. You've had an itty-bitty piece of my soul in there for quite a while now. What's it been like?

Sarevok: Well, other than a slight obsession with my weight and the resurgence of a few pimples, it's been simply grand.

Aerie: You seem to be limping, Jan. Have you been hurt recently?

Jan: No, lass, I’m not hurt and the limp is not new. I’ve had it as long as you’ve known me. 'Tis a wooden leg you see. I was smuggling crackers into Waterdeep several years back. The Council had outlawed them due to near constant cracker-related debauchery, you see... I couldn’t let THAT pass. The Council had sealed off all ports and mobilized the army to stop all cracker entry. The city was shut down, martial law was declared and people huddled in their homes for fear and want of crackers. I could not stand idly by while such persecution was visited on the somewhat innocent peoples of Waterdeep. So I smuggled crackers. Salted, unsalted, and herb-riddled alike, it mattered not. All came in and all were consumed in secret orgies of cracker-related tomfoolery. Then came the unpleasant business with the hanging. I hadn’t seen Picklefeather’s eyes bulge like that since that Wyvern kicked him in the ba... (Oops! Innocent elvish lass, have to watch the tongue) uh... in the arm. (Yes, that will do.) The moral of the story is, you reap what you sow. I still own a warehouse full of saltines. I send a box each year to all my friends. Seem to have fewer friends each year as a result, but that's to be expected.

Aerie: What does that have to do with your wooden leg?

Jan: What wooden leg? I have no wooden leg.

Aerie: Grrrr! You’re IMPOSSIBLE!

Jan: Why yes, I suppose I am, at that. (grin)

Aerie: I have a question for you, Imoen... you have the taint of Bhaal within you? Does this mean you will turn into the Slayer as well?

Imoen: I certainly hope not. I... I've been thinking more and more lately about that, myself, though.

Aerie: It must be an awful feeling. I cannot imagine how deals with it.

Imoen: Yeah... s/he's been dealing with it longer, too. Sometimes, when it's quiet... I can hear the taint in my heart whispering to me. It says awful things and I almost want to scream to shut them out.

Aerie: (gasp!) You... you haven't done anything that it's said, have you?

Imoen: Well... other than that time I got up in the middle of the night to snatch a bag of cinnamon cookies, heck no.

Aerie: Oh, goo-... what? Cinnamon cookies?

Imoen: Ha ha! Oh, come on, Aerie! Lighten up, willya? I'll tell ya what, if I have any desires to murder you in the middle of the night, you'll be the first to know, okay?

Aerie: That's not very funny, Imoen. never makes fun of his/her condition that way.

Protagonist: Well, it's been so much easier when I discovered all the Slayer really wants is a sandwich...

Aerie: Oh, fine. Everyone seems determined to make fun of me. I'll stand back here, thank you.

Imoen: So, Valygar ...word on the street is that ya killed your parents. Is that true? Sounds pretty horrid, if ya ask me.

Valygar: You consider *this* acceptable casual conversation? Just walk up and ask someone if they killed their parents?

Imoen: Would you prefer to let the rumor mill have its way?

Valygar: I could care less what the people have to say about me. People have talked about my family all my life.

Imoen: Well, that’s a pretty sour attitude. You know, they say your face freezes like that.

Valygar: For someone who supposedly has her soul tainted by the evil of a dead god, you remind me considerably of a chipmunk with a sugar high and a death wish.

Imoen: Ooo! Funny! That’s good!

Valygar: I try my best.

Imoen: You look a little down, Edwin. You're not upset, are you?

Edwin: My mood is no concern of yours, child.

Imoen: You've become less blustery, I think. Maybe... maybe you're mad because everyone else is finding destinies and prophesies and generally surpassing you in every way?

Edwin: You go too far, girl! I hold none of you above me!

Imoen: I mean, even me, frail little Imoen, is a big scary Child of Bhaal now! That's got to be frustrating.

Edwin: Now that is just nonsense! All of it!

Imoen: Hey Edwin! BOO!

Edwin: WHA! What... is it... NOW?!

Imoen: He flinched! The big bad mage flinched! HAHA! Oooh, look, I'm Bhaal, I'm big and scary, ooohh.

Edwin: Now that was just... you are just being...

Imoen: Oooooh, don't worry, big bad Imoen won't scare you no more. Heeheehee... 'boo' I says, and he jumped out of his skin... (snicker)

Edwin: (grumble)... whelp... child... monkey-brained ... how would you like your flaming death you... grrrr...

Jan: Korgy old pal, have I ever told you how much you remind me of my uncle, Uriah Twin-Hammers?

Korgan: Watch yer step, gnome. If ye make me angry, I’ll bury the head of me axe so far up yer backside yer breath will smell like magic metal!

Jan: That’s exactly the kind of thing Twin-Hammers would say. He was a ruthless, savage, bloodthirsty outlaw who would kill anyone or anything that got in his way. He used to repeatedly terrorize a certain gnomish village he frequently wandered through in his neverending quest for profit and bloodshed.

Korgan: A man after me own black heart! Carry on, gnome ... ye got me blood stirrin’!

Jan: Of course, all good things come to an end. Fed up with Uriah’s antics, the village hired a hero to protect them and enforce the law - the legendary Clint Hackman (so named for his habit of chopping his foes to little bits). With the townsfolk peering from their windows the outlaw and the famous lawman stared each other down in the center of the dusty, deserted street. Cold as ice, Uriah said: ‘I’ve killed women and children. I’ve killed everything that walks or crawls on this earth. And now I’m here to kill you.’ Alas, Uriah met his end on that street. With his first blow he broke his hammer on Hackman’s shield, and that was it. Weaponless, he wasn’t much of a match for the mighty Clint. If my uncle had only been named Two-Hammer because he carried two weapons he still might be alive today. But Uriah got his nickname for the mighty hammer he carried in his belt and the even mightier ... uh, ‘hammer’ he had *beneath* his belt, if you get my drift. A fine instrument to have, but not much good in a fight.

Korgan: HAR! HAR! HAR! ‘Tis a good thing ye know yer audience, gnome ... me axe stays in me belt.

Jan:That wasn’t the first time I met a god.

Minsc: Tiny has met a god before this?

Jan: It was Oghma, the god of knowledge. Although I can’t say I really met him. I suppose, as he was drunk, and fast asleep in cousin Roffer’s back lawn. Or perhaps I should say On cousin Roffer’s back lawn… he was a giant of an avatar, sprawled out and snoring. I wonder how how you get a god drunk?

Protagonist: I truly doubt that happened, Jan.

Jan: But it’s true! Someone had drawn a moustache on him and yanked his underwear clear up to his shoulderblades. No idea who, but all I can think is that it must have been one hell of a party. But if you won’t believe me… well, as much as it hurts poor old Jan I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it. (sniff) Poor Jan Jansen, he’s such a liar. (boo hoo!)

Jan: Minsc! Look out behind you!

Minsc: Where? He who sneaks on Minsc loses teeth!

Jan: C'mon Boo! Quickly, come to Jan!

Minsc: Stop it! Boo is not for you, tiny! You'll hurt him!

Jan: He likes me. Gnomes are far cuddlier than oafish humans.

Minsc: No, I know what is best when talking of Boo. If you could hear his wishes, you would agree, but you cannot. The words of Boo are for Minsc alone.

Jan: You can't fault a fellow for trying.

Minsc: I can and will. And another thing; no more sneaking Boo crackers! He is getting rather portly, and the crumbs make for an itchy bedroll.

Jan: Ah, Minsc! 'Tis truly a beautiful day, no?

Minsc: Weather is nice, maybe.

Jan: It is day to get out into the world, breathe in the fresh air.

Minsc: (grunt)

Jan: Too bad, though...

Minsc: What is too bad?

Jan: It's too bad that I won't live to enjoy it.

Minsc: What do you mean?

Jan: Hadn't you heard, old friend. I've got the Calimshan Itch. Alas, poor Jan! (sob, sob)

Minsc: An itch? Can you not scratch it?

Jan: Only death will cure this itch. I shall not live out this day. Oh, terrible powers of the heavens! Why will you let me die without granting me a final wish? Cruel, cruel fate!

Minsc: What can Minsc do to help? A tragedy, this is! I will slay those that need slaying!

Jan: I do have one final wish...no, no. I do not wish to burden my companions with my death. My teensy-weensy wish is unimportant. Travel on, good Minsc. Carry the torch and so forth.

Minsc: It is only fair, big-nosed little one. We will do all that we can to aid you.

Jan: Truly, it is a small thing. As a child I had a pet hamster, named Spanky. Those were the only pure days in my life. Every day was perfection. Oh, the pain! If I could just hold a hamster while I die, perhaps I could capture the innocence of my youth and die a happy gnome.

Minsc: You will not steal Boo from me! I know your tricks!

Jan: Tis no trick, (cough, cough). Nevertheless, you are correct about one thing, my oafish friend. I do not deserve happiness. Please, leave me to my excruciatingly painful death. I am close now... Spanky I miss you!

Minsc: Boo shall comfort the little dying gnome for a moment. Only a moment!

Jan: Ah, thank you, Minsc. May I have a moment alone?

Minsc: Alone? No, I draw the line... hey! Stand still! I warn you!

Jan: At last Boo is mine! I cannot believe this stupid trick worked. Come, noble hamster, a life of frivolity awaits.

Minsc: I'll throttle with your own arms if you do not return him this instant! This is no longer amusing! It was never amusing! I am not laughing!

Jan: Alright, alright. It was only a jest, Minscy. I meant no harm.

Minsc: That's right, you apologize! It's hard enough keeping Boo's roaming in check without you stealing him. Bad Jan! There will be a booting if this happens again!

Jan: So Viconia, I suppose you must be a drow, eh?

Viconia: Speak not to your betters, surface slave.

Jan: My brother, Elgar Buttercup, had skin the shade of charcoal, too. Well, technically it WAS charcoal. He died in a nasty fire, you see.

Viconia: You do love the sound of your own voice, don't you gnome?

Jan: My own voice? Heartless wench! Do you not know? I am deaf. I have never heard the sound of my own voice. I read lips... (sob)... only lips...

Viconia: Deaf? Truly? In the Underdark the deaf are killed or used in pain threshold experiments.

Jan: I heard that! In fact, it reminds me of the time I was eaten by an avatar of Lolth. I was stuck inside her stomach with a miserable drow called Biffle Chump for days. Of course, I was forced to eat him. A matter of survival, you understand. Nothing personal. He tasted a bit like chicken.

Viconia: [to Protagonist] How is it that you travel with such a wee buffoon?

Protagonist: Truthfully, it all goes back to the time that Jan's cousin, Plooty Paladin-piper, got caught in a nasty flesh golem eating contest...

Jan: Aye, Plooty had a way of attracting golems. Brilliant, really. You start with a saucer of milk - golems are suckers for milk...

Viconia: I refuse to listen to this.

Minsc: Flowers are beautiful, aren't they, Boo? I wish there were more to see.

Cernd: I see you have an appreciation for the small things, Minsc. You see the power in their simple nature.

Minsc: I don't understand much that is complicated, but the trees and the flowers are music to my eyes. Boo prefers the calm of the forest, though he suffers my company.

Cernd: Ah, you are his tree amidst the cities and people, and despite your bending and bowing in the wind, you are his stability, as I suspect he is yours.

Minsc: No, he is my hamster. You talk in circles, Cernd, but that's okay. Boo runs in them.

Minsc: Ungh! Oh Boo, where are you, Boo? Let the good knight know that I have hit my head.

Keldorn: Aid is on its way, Minsc, stand firm!

Minsc: No, Boo. The knight, I said...not all these pesky birdies...

Keldorn: Oh, ye gods, shelter this loving madman while ye may...

Keldorn: Imoen! What… are you pawing at me yet again? Do you think I do not notice? You are attempting to pickpocket me, aren’t you!?

Imoen: Oh! Well, no… uh… I just thought…

Keldorn: Just what? Out with it, girl. I won’t have a party member stealing from me.

Imoen: No, no, that’s not it! I… I was just… I was just trying to find out if you’re as muscular under your armor as you look.

Keldorn: Eh? What’s this?

Imoen: Oh, I know that you’re married and all that, Keldorn… but do you have *any* idea how good you look? I… I can’t help myself, I want to touch you all the time!

Keldorn: Imoen! I… I have a daughter that is the same age as you!

Imoen: I don’t know what it is, Keldorn… maybe it’s the Bhaal essence in me. I just want to run my fingers through your hair and nibble on your ears! Oh, Keldorn, you drive me so wild!

Keldorn: By Torm, no! This is terrible! I… I didn’t know I had this effect on you…

Imoen: Oh, get over yourself already, Keldorn! Sheesh. (giggle!) Here’s your ring back. I won’t take it again, I promise.

Minsc: Eh, so, ‘Sarevok’, if that is your real name, what do you remember of our previous battles?

Sarevok: What are your getting at, ranger? I remember you well enough.

Minsc: I am not completely convinced you are who you say you are, standing there saying you are.

Sarevok: And I am to feel bad that I do not have your validation? No, if my identity is a problem for you then let my actions speak instead.

Minsc: Boo agrees. You are welcome beside us if you effectively apply the boots of goodness.

Sarevok: Your deluded comments are unnecessary. *Protagonist* directs my wrath as she/he sees fit.

Minsc: A fine choice of mentor, but again, you do not seem like a ‘Sarevok’ to me. Too much ‘humble’, not enough ‘RAAAAGH, feel my unholy rage!’

Viconia: Korgan, I'm interested in whether your clan has ever had interaction with House DeVir? It seems to me, if memory serves, that our sphere of influence was quite close to your Bloodaxe clan's stronghold near Talthalra Wern'nt Szithla Har'oloth.

Korgan: Nay speak that vile tongue to me, blackskin. If it moves I've killed it, but if it be drow, I've tortured it fer days, first. As fer that house of yers, I burned it and relieved meself on the embers and the dead. And the necklace of darkelf ears fetched me a king's ransom in Waterdeep.

Viconia: Minsc, that... tattoo on your face. Does it have tribal significance or did some nursery's fingerpainting class assault you with the blue pastels?

Minsc: I do not like the tone of your voice, Dark Elf. The face I have is the face the ladies love! Boo loves Minsc's face, too! Don't you, Boo?

Viconia: Jan. While I would be tempted to let the situation play itself out, perhaps it is best if I warn you now.

Jan: Yeeessss, my dusky little margarita? What warning would that be?

Viconia: You have a venomous spider on your neck. A lovely creature, known to cause an agonizing, blood-curdling death within moments of injecting its nerve poison.

Jan: You know, this reminds me of the time Uncle Scratchy laid me flat with the handle of a horseman's flail. 'Look behind you!', he says. 'Why? What's behind me?', I say. 'A Tiberian Dung Beetle!', he cries, looking frantic. So of course I scream in terror and look behind me... and lost a bag of the most scrumptuous turnips ever to come out of Scornubel. Ma Jansen was furious and the lump was more painful than six weeks with the Calimshite Itch.

Viconia: Oh, look. There it goes down the back of your shirt.

Jan: And then there was that time I took a drow at his word. "Bifflechips,' says I, 'you had better be telling the truth.' And, of course, he swore up and down that he was. Needless to say, not four weeks later I was stewing in the lower intestines of a giant cave wyrm without even so much as a torch or a sense of irony. I would have been a goner if gnomes weren't well known for causing severe bouts of intestinal gas.

Viconia: I wouldn't squirm about so much, you foolish jaluk. You're likely to anger it, and I have no spells that can counteract its particular poison.

Jan: Now, if I had a copper for every time --- eh, wait a second. I feel something... who's behind me? What *is* that back there?

Viconia: Did I not try to tell you? No doubt it is sinking its fangs into your gamey flesh as we speak.

Jan: What? But I -- ouch! AHHHH! AHHHH, NOOOO! I'M TOO YOUNG A GNOME TO DIE!! AHHHHH!! HELP ME, SOMEONE! AN ANTIDOTE, AN ANTIDOTE!! PAIN GIVES ME GAS! AHHHH!! I DON"T WANT TO -- eh? Wait a minute, that's a fly. A dead fly. You mean I ripped off my own shirt for nothing?

Viconia: Ha ha! Sometimes life has its little rewards. Even for the drow.

Jan: You're a cruel, cruel woman, Viconia. Garl help me, but I am so turned on right now.

Viconia: Alright, now I'm leaving.

Jan: You know, Binky, I have been considering this plan of yours that you had with the Iron Throne and all that. Interesting ideas... but flawed.

Sarevok: Binky? You had best not be addressing me, gnome.

Jan: For instance, whose idea was it to put impurities in the iron? Sounds like the lame idea of some yes-man underling who didn't know when to quit. No doubt you had him flogged.

Sarevok: I will not have my past commented upon by the likes of you, churl. Quiet yourself, lest that you experience more than mere flogging.

Jan: Speaking of a good flog, I'm brought to mind of poor Auntie Sara. She, too, had a master plan to take over the Sword Coast, you know. Although hers was considerably less dramatic and involved the use of some tasty recipes for a turnip pie and some mind-altering herbs that Auntie Sara had bought from a rather disreputable Turmish mage.

Sarevok: Are you listening of *nothing* I say?! Desist or suffer the consequences!

Jan: Do you think she would listen to us? You can trust a Turmish mage about as far as you can kick him... and even then it's not a bad idea to carry a good thumping stick. But, alas, Auntie Sara just cackled in her most villain-like way and was determined to carry on with her plan to hypnotize the Sword Coast. Alas, she was compeletely undone by an over-the-top exposition she gave to a spy she had captured... and who subsequently escaped, of course, before she could have him killed. It's what villains do, I understand, when they're not busy defiling iron.

Sarevok: I will not be mocked, gnome! This is your last warning!

Jan: Of course, they say that Duke Eltan had already had a bit of Auntie's pie and enjoyed it immensely. Rather than becoming hypnotized, he just became rather pleasantly obsessed with silken undergarments. This, of course, led to the first Great Underwear Shortage. It's also known as the Three-Year Wedgie Drought, but that's another story completely.

Sarevok: AUUUUGHHH!! How maddening! How can you put up with such impudence, ?!

Viconia: Valygar, do you realize you have twigs in your hair? Dirt under your fingernails and mud on your boots? You’re a filthy mess. Ha! How can I be discreet? Take a bath.

Valygar: And your point, Viconia? We’re all filthy. We’re all unwashed and tired and hungry. Shut up and tell someone who cares.

Yoshimo: Friend Korgan, you are truly a paragon of dwarven ill-humor. Can you find no joy in being alive? The smell of the morning dew and the feel of the free air?

Korgan: Aye, I find pleasure in the feel of an inquisitive thief's neck-bone breakin' between me hands.

Yoshimo: They could write a book about you. 'Irritable Dwarven Responses', they'd call it. It would be a best-seller amongst the smelly-old-drunk market. What say you?

Korgan: Mayhap ye should, only 'Pleasures of the Dwarven Bed-Chamber' be a more pleasing and accurate subject.

Yoshimo: Ho! Is it, now? How about 'The Unbathed Adventurer: Travels with Korgan'?

Korgan: Worry not, thief. There's naught wrong with yer idea that a sharp blow to yer idiot skull wouldn't fix. Here is yer title and argue with me gauntlet if ye dare: 'Tall-Folk Scourge: Yoshimo Beware!'. Now shut yer mouth and get to writing.

Yoshimo: [after Edwin is transformed into a woman by the Nether Scroll] Tell me, Edwina, would you like me to let out the seams on your robe? I'm quite handy with a needle. You do, after all, have more...bulk..in the upper chest area.

Edwin: [Slavic woman voice] Silence, you fool! Chauvinist pig! (what am I saying?) I mean to say IDIOT!

Yoshimo: It was only an offer, m'lady. There is no cause for anger.

Yoshimo: Brave halfling lass! With the scurrying of little feet you throw yourself into the fray. It is so cute to see the little ones fight. Like a fearless samurai you are, Mazzy.

Mazzy: Honestly, Yoshimo, I am sick and tired of humans and large folk calling me cute!

Yoshimo: I cannot help it! You are like a miniature prophet of doom.

Mazzy: Oh, shut up! I won't seem so cute if I break your legs.

Yoshimo: I meant no offense, Mazzy. You should be flattered! I don't think you're ugly...

Mazzy: If you wish to end this conversation without bruises, you will silence yourself now!

Yoshimo: Yes mistress.

Mazzy: And don't call me mistress!

Mazzy: Jan, I find you quite the enigma. This adventure has yielded us a crop of useful magical items and yet you turn your considerable powers to the never-ending quest to create the perfect turnip peeler. How can someone so clever be so shortsighted?

Jan: Well, Mazzy, you’re really asking two questions there. My shortsightedness was passed on to me by my dear departed father. I was born with the condition and I’ll thank you not to stare! As to your other question, it takes me back to my carefree days as a deckhand on a turnip merchant galleon. We sailed for distant Waterdeep, we did, braving foul seas, foul tempers and a desperate band of turnip pirates.

Mazzy: You are mentally incapable of answering a straight question, aren’t you gnome?

Jan: ’Twas on a cold winter’s night near the beginning of the Great Underwear Shortage that we set sail. I danced naked on the poop deck, which was the custom at the time. Well, my nose and other extremities were getting a bit frosty so I gathered up the tatters of my poor, abused, underwear and headed to the crow’s nest.

Mazzy: Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!

Jan: Well, I never! You did ask, after all.

Mazzy: SHUT UP!!!

Minsc: Boo? Boo... where are you?

Jan: What's the matter, Minscy? Did you lose (snicker)... lose (giggle)... lose something?

Minsc: You! The tiny, tricky gnome! Minsc knows it was you who stole Boo! You cannot fool Minsc! What is that bulge moving about within your trousers?

Jan: This bulge here? Why that's (ha-ha) that's nothing. I'm just happy to see you, Minscy. (giggle) Oh, those tiny feet tickle so.

Minsc: I hear Boo's frenzied squeaking! Ho-ho! He is growing angry, little man. Release Boo from your drawers lest his sharp teeth nibble on your naughty bits in his outrage!

Jan: Boo would never do such a thing... uh, at least I hope he wouldn't. Actually, now that I think about it, that's a chance I'm not willing to take. Here you go, Minscy - Boo's yours again, safe and sound.

Minsc: Ah, Minsc and Boo together again! Jan, you are not worthy of having a miniaturized giant space hamster scampering loose in your pants.

Jan: Ah, I suppose there are precious few of us indeed who are truly worthy of that particular honor.

Nalia: (after the Protagonist gives a beggar gold) That was a nice thing to do. Although I'm sure you could spare a lot more...what are you saving up for? A golden sword?

Jan: Now, now, Nalia. A golden sword wouldn't be so bad...except maybe for the weight. And the softness. Pretty much only good for one swing, actually. Hmmm...tell me, just why are you planning on buying a golden sword, anyway? Sounds pretty useless to me.

Protagonist: I never said I was going to--

Jan: Oh, don't go and tell me you don't want one. I've heard you mumbling in your sleep, you chatty little man. But never mind...I'd like to see you try and fight with one.

Korgan: ‘Tis been far too long since our last battle. Jan, ye runty windbag, tell me a story to ward off the boredom ... and if ye know what’s good for ye, it’ll be about dwarves!

Jan: Ah, finally someone who appreciates my tales! A tale about dwarves, eh? Let me see, of course - my cousin Kimble. Not a dwarf himself per se, but Kimble always was of peculiar tastes for a gnome. He fell in love with a dwarven lass. She was stout and stocky, with a gruff voice and a soft, supple beard...

Korgan: Ah, gnome, ye know how to paint a lovely picture ... such a beauty she must ha’ been!

Jan: Oh yes, she was a fine looking woman ... to Kimble’s eyes at least. She cast a spell on him far stronger than any sorcerer could have. But she wouldn’t have anything to do with my cousin - she had dwarven princes and clan lords after her calloused hands, and she couldn’t be bothered with a dirt poor turnip farming gnome. But Kimble’s heart wouldn’t be denied ... he left his own family to follow this bewitching character back to her clan home.

Korgan: Yer losin’ me gnome, I don’t want no weeping love story. I want killin’ and death! Give me blood!

Jan: You wanted a story about dwarves, and this is the only one I’ve got. I just can’t make up a life, you know ... that would be an affront to the grand tradition of storytelling in my family! Now, where was I? Oh yes, Kimble. My cousin followed the lovely dwarven lass to her clan home in the Alimir Mountains, and started a turnip farm there. He had a rough go of it at first, let me tell you ... taxes, levies, zoning restrictions. It was almost like the dwarves didn’t want him and his farm there. But they never had turnips, so they didn’t really know what they were missing. One of those turnips started to sprout things, changed in a hurry. Turns out the dwarves of that particular clan LOVED turnips. Fried, baked, boiled, pureed, mashed - you couldn’t find a meal of the day they didn’t have turnips with. Turnips became so fashionable they began to wear clothes made from turnips. Never did a dwarf look so snazzy (or smell so appetizing) as when he dressed up in a turnip top hat and turnip tails, with turnip skin shoes to complete the ensemble. And with his turnip business booming, Kimble had more wealth than he knew what to do with. Just walking around his house was an effort, what with all the mountains of gold spilling out of every door of every room.

Korgan: All that gold got me attention, gnome. But the happy ending isn’t doin’ much for me.

Jan: Happy ending? I never said any such thing. Kimble was rich, true enough - but it turns out his dwarven love didn’t share her clans’ fondness for turnips. In fact, she was deathly allergic. She did her best to avoid the lethal vegetables, but as popular as Kimble’s crops were it was only a matter of time before she accidentally ate one. It killed her, of course. Heartbroken, Kimble tried to return to his own people. But the dwarves just weren’t going to let him and his turnips leave. They threw him in prison and demanded he reveal the secrets of turnip farming, but that isn’t something you can just teach. You either have the gift or you don’t, and dwarves don’t. In the end Kimble’s frail body succumbed to the dwarves’ torture and interrogation and he left to join his beloved in the afterlife. And that particular dwarven clan discovered that turnip farmers were almost as tasty as turnips themselves. Or so I’ve heard.

Korgan: HAR! HAR! HAR! A great tale, gnome. Ye done yerself proud!

Korgan: It's been a grand fight, eh mage? Can you better cap a life than with blood betwixt the toes and the flames of hell itself? Ha!

Edwin: Will someone get this bile-soaked freak away from me?!

Korgan: What? No stomach for the cleavings of me axe?

Edwin: I do not fault the need for frontline offense, but I fail to see why you need to sink a blade to your elbows.

Korgan: Bah! Mages! Ye'll blast away from your mother's window but catch your scatter-willies at the thought of blood. It's called follow-through! Feh!

Cernd: As the simple wasp must coerce the flower to release its nectar, so will I rip your throat from its moorings and drain your lifeblood if I do not see Deril and my child! UNDERSTAND?!

Protagonist: Cernd, that was quite the outburst. I didn't think you had it in you.

Cernd: It's not so much in me as in a puddle around me. Scared myself, I did. It worked though.

Minsc: Ooh, squirrels, Boo! I know I saw them! Quick, throw nuts!

Jaheira: Minsc, could you please maintain a little grace while in nature's presence? Sometimes I simply do not know how you came by your title of ranger.

Minsc: Do you wish me dour and sour like most others? No, I say not. The animals run and play without care, and I would too... if such a thing would not squish Boo flat.

Jaheira: But your duties are serious things, Minsc. Do you realise that?

Minsc: I am very serious! Boo would not let me shirk my duties! I would not want to shirk anything! No sir, no shirking!

Jaheira: Admirable, Minsc, but you use that word like you don't know what it means.

Minsc: Eh, well... no... but it sounds sharp and painful and I always reserve such things for freaks that might steal those squirrels' nuts!

Jaheira: Good job, Minsc. You keep it up.

Minsc: Then say it louder! We must inspire fear in evil! Quiet tales of hamsters are foolish, but a man and his hamster that tear evil limb from limb? That's scary!

Protagonist: Ahh, what the hell. Right-o, Minsc! Our deeds will ring in the evil ears we box and label do not open 'til mid-winter fest!

Minsc: Now you are speaking the language of Minsc! Next we must get you a hamster! Or perhaps an ice weasel, whatever your tastes.

Haer'Dalis: Ah, my hound, this city be the great world of commerce! Perhaps we can sell Jaheira?

Jaheira: Cut your wit, bard. The day has been long already, without you adding hours to it.

Haer'Dalis: Cut my wit? Why, certainly, if I could only use your nose's razor edge to perform the task.

Jaheira: Aye, it seems I've sharpened it upon the grindstone of your heart.

Haer'Dalis: Well, my frumpy ptarmigan, I must protest -

Jaheira: 'Methinks thou dost protest too much'. Aye, I can quote the poets too. If you must protest, I respond only to hunger strikes, and, even then, too late.

Haer'Dalis: Oh, , raven of sympathy! Yon woman is stifling my creativity and stealing thunder from my wit! I swear I cannot work amidst the lashings of her tongue!

Haer'Dalis: A question, my hound and hamster... why is it that you come into such rage when we fight? 'Tis as if all the furies of the planes were all at once let loose within your veins!

Minsc: Boo says fight hard so I fight hard.

Haer'Dalis: Ah, Boo, says that, does he?

Minsc: Space hamsters are never wrong!

Edwin: Marvelous work! You've obviously exceeded your lowborn heritage and surged to the vanguard of goonery!

Protagonist: ... uh, what?

Minsc: Yes! Lead evil by example, and one day we need no longer put the boots to those that stray off the path of goodness into the muck and bile of villainy and track great bloody footprints across our lily white tiles! Boo will have clean wood shavings you evil bastards!

Protagonist: Oooooh kaaaay.

Jan: Ah, the smell of adventure is nigh! Or is that ale spilled on the floor? You know, come to think of it, there's not too much difference between the two. One usually follows the other, if you take my meaning. Unless you happen to be Uncle Prebar, who took a milk bath both before and after an adventure. Ahhhhh, poor Uncle Prebar. If it weren't for those baths, he might still be with us.

Nalia: I almost hate to ask this... what, exactly, is wrong with milk baths?

Jan: Well, nothing... unless you happen to be attempting to sneak through a dungeon filled with hobgoblins and you have a few dozen cats noisily following the smell of sour milk and meowing all the time. Tsk. Well, at least the smell prevented them from eating him. The hobgoblins, I mean, not the cats.

Minsc: Ooh! To take swords against monsters of great evil! Already I feel Boo wriggling in excited anticipation!

Jan: Are you sure its your rodent, Minsc? I once felt excitement before impending doom fell upon me, and it turned out later to be a mild case of indigestion. You should get that checked, you know... I was laid out for weeks in bed, eating nothing but ice cream and porridge, and we wouldn't want you turning into a chubby berserker, now would we?

Minsc: Of course it is Boo. Boo is always happy when opportunities for heroism come! We shall crush these orges, and rangers and hamsters everywhere shall rejoice!

Jaheira: I did not wish to do this. I did now. We are in the right, , but why does it still hurt?

Protagonist: The right thing is not always the easiest. Actually, it's usually the bloody hard bit.

Jaheira: Heh, you and your jokes make me smile far too often, even when I do not wish to. People will think I am getting soft.

Protagonist: Yes, but you're always quick with a backhand to set them right.

Jaheira: Haha! Shush you! I'm supposed to be feeling bad about this whole thing! Oh, let's just get moving. ...(snicker)

Minsc: I do not get through many battles without injury. Why is Minsc always on the front line taking damage?

Protagonist: Are you a freakishingly large juggernaut that charges at the drop of a hat? Just a guess on my part.

Minsc: Perhaps I am a touch quick to combat but I temper my temper with common sense about who I should attack. What? I do too! Why does Boo snicker?

Cernd: Well, that was unpleasant. I guess I should expect more of the same to come. As the trees are buffeted and snapped in the face of the gale, I shall be as the bamboo and flex.

Protagonist: Oh shut up.

Various Interactions

Your Bhaal Soul (posing as Imoen): You are to be given a gift. It is a valuable prize, one you had better appreciate. You worry for your comrades, perhaps? Leave them, abandon them and become what you must. There is great power in your heritage. Use it, and you will become closer to what you are, what you could be...

[Protagonist turns into the Slayer]

Your Bhaal soul (posing as Imoen): Feel what is in the void. Use the tools that you are given. Become part of something greater. I am in you, and I know what is best. Each time you use it, each time you accept it, you move a little closer to the evil within. Perhaps you lose yourself in the end, but you will go to greater reward than you can know. After all, what does an eternity of nothingness matter, when you can destroy all that would oppose your development as easy as one...

[Protagonist kills Sarevok]

Your Bhaal soul (posing as Imoen): ...two...

[Protagonist kills Bodhi]

Your Bhaal soul (posing as Imoen): ...three...

[Protagonist kills Irenicus]

Your Bhaal soul (posing as Imoen): ...four...

[Imoen dies - the screen fades to black a moment, then comes back]

Your Bhaal soul (posing as Imoen): ...FIVE!

[Protagonist dies]

Aphril: I see through the walls, for there are no walls when you are somewhere else! I walk through them all, and they walk through me!

Edwin: It is a weakness on her part. A superior mind could handle such a gift.

Viconia: Ha! A pity we do not have one here!

Edwin: (Sigh. It's aggravation like this that will eventually cause me to fireball the entire party as they sleep. Yes indeed, everyone peaceful and quiet and then FOOM!)

Baron Ployer: Jaheira, you and your claims brought me shame and suffering, and today I am going to exact payment. For your slanderous accusations I am going to...

Jaheira: Well, the slander is going a bit far. You actually were a slaver, you know. It's not slander if it's proven.

Bondari: Die, cursed eyeball! Uh... ? ... Do I, uh, know you?

Protagonist: I have freed you from your stone prison, young adventurer.

Bondari: Uh, thanks. Guys, are you ok?

Nanoc the Barbarian: Yeah.

Tim Goldenhand: Yes (no thanks to you... can't even backstab an eyeball!)

Bondari: Shutup, Tim! Greetings, my, uh... Lord. I am Bondari Quickhand, a thief. These are my companions Nanoc the Barbarian and Tim Goldenhand. He's an elf. And a mage.

Bondari: Uh... I guess I should thank you for saving us. Is there some way we brave adventurers can repay your kindness? Something we can do for you to fulfill our debt of gratitude. Anything? Anything at all?

Protagonist: A terrible evil has swept across the land and the lives of millions hang in the balance. You have been chosen, Bondari, and you must not fail in your quest!

Bondari: A Quest! Wow! This is great! What do we have to do?

Protagonist: A fiendish beholder and his kobold cohorts have infested a cave to the east of here. An evil dragon threatens the land! I must have the beholder's eyestalk to slay the dragon and save the country from certain doom!

Bondari: By Mask's mask! We can't let this happen!

Protagonist: Go, noble adventurer, and retrieve the eyestalk. The fate of Tethyr lies in your hands!

Bondari: What kind of reward do we get?

Protagonist: I shall give you... 100 gold!

Bondari: 100 gold! We're rich! You have a deal, sir. We shall fetch this eyestalk and save the world. C'mon guys!

Tim Goldenhand: Wait! I have to rest and memorize magic missile!

Nanoc the Barbarian: Worry not, elf. Nanoc will protect you!

Several days later...

Bondari: (I'm telling you we can take Protagonist. Nanoc, you are unfettered by the weaknesses of the civilized world! Tim, you can cast magic missile! I will backstab. I bet he has all kinds of great treasure!)

Nanoc the Barbarian: (But Tim is terrible. Remember the kobold king? He cast one spell then hid behind a rock while we had to slay everyone!)

Tim Goldenhand: (Hey! I have the healing potions! I heal you!)

Nanoc the Barbarian: (I can shrug off a blow that would fell a normal man! Unfettered by your civilized ways, I...)

Bondari: (Enough! Ready...) ATTACK!!!

[Bondari and company attack Protagonist, who transforms into the slayer and kills them]

Bondari reloads...

Bondari: Uh, here's your eyestalk sir. We found something else, too. I hope you like it.

Protagonist: Well done, Bondari. Here is your reward.

Bondari: Thanks. It was a good quest. I found a dagger and Tim here got a scroll of identify. In a couple of days he'll be able to tell me about my dagger.

Tim Goldenhand: Hi.

Bondari: Thanks again, Protagonist! Bye! Good luck with the dragon!

Nanoc the Barbarian: I bid you a "Farewell" suitably unfettered by civilization.

Boy: Um... you're an elven lady, aren't you? Why are you always frowning?

Jaheira: I... I am not always frowning, I... oh, go away, child. Why are the children of this city so annoying?

Desharik: What is the meaning of this intrusion? Who are you?

Protagonist: is my name. I was referred by Captain Golin.

Desharik: Golin? Why would he send you to me? What is it you think you want here?

Protagonist: I seek entry to the asylum. Can you help with this?

Desharik: Spellhold? Why would you want to go there? Hardly a sociable place for decent folk.

Protagonist: I… I need to be admitted. I need… I need help. I need to be confined.

Desharik: You wish me to have you thrown into the asylum? That is certainly an odd request, through not in itself an indication of madness. What are you trying to accomplish? I can indeed have people committed to Spellhold, but why would you request it?

Protagonist: I am clearly deranged. Look who I travel with! Minsc, meet the Pirate Lord!

Minsc: Pirate Lord? Such a name does not conjure images of righteous behavior. Stand still a moment and let Boo have a look at you.

Desharik: Er, why is your friend pointing a hamster at me?

Minsc: Boo will soon have you figured out. You certainly seem friendlier that I would think a Pirate Lord would be. And where is your peg?

Desharik: My--- what?

Minsc: Your peg, A proper pirate has a peg, whether a leg, arm or… uh… some other expendable extremity. And a parrot.

Desharik: A parrot?

Minsc: Certainly! As I have my Boo, so too must you have your parrot. Boo likes parrots. They could wrassel.

Desharik: I’ve seen enough. Congratulations, you are on your way to Spellhold. You are clearly a danger to the general community. By the gods. I think I’m stupider for talking to you. Stupider? More Stupid? Get them out of my sight, all of them! They may all have this disease of the mind.

Drow Captain: Your slaughter-filled progress has greatly alarmed my Mistress. If I defeat you my reward will be truly worthwhile.

Spectator: O, Captain, my Captain!

Drow Captain: Eh? Why do you address me as such, beholder? You have a most peculiar attitude... I shall have to report it to the mistress soon.

Spectator: Oh, never mind that. I always wanted to say that, and there you go getting all upset. I just had a comment, here, before this Bhaalspawn squashes you into so much mush.

Drow Captain: Hmph. That may not necessarily happen.

Spectator: Uh...yes. Anyhow, on the off chance that you *do* manage to kill the Bhaalspawn, won't Sendai just go to the Matron Mothers and take all the credit for her greedy little self?

Drow Captain: You...speak the truth, my mono-ocular friend. I would rather claim the credit for such a deed myself. Have you a suggestion?

Spectator: I'm just thinking it would be *so* much better if you fought (Protagonist) in single combat. Then you could claim to have killed him all by yourself. Even the matrons couldn't refute that. Parades, gold, a new torture rack, it'd all be yours.

Elven Madman: You want Yakman to sleep? Yakman never sleep!

Protagonist: You never sleep? You must sleep. If you didn't sleep, it would drive you... oh.

Enna Hendrick: Shoo! Them aren't yer chickens! Erlin! Erlin, someone's after the chickens!

Protagonist: This is between us and the chickens, Ma'am, and I'm going to ask real nicely that you stay out of it.

Girl: MY MOTHER SAYS THAT DARK ELVES SHOULD BE HANGED UNLESS THEY'RE NAMED DRIZZT!!

Viconia: (sigh) So what else is new?

Girl: MY MOTHER SAYS THAT SORCERERS SHOULD BE CHOPPED UP INTO ITTY-BITTY PIECES AND FED TO THE DOGS!!

Edwin: Oh, do shut up, girl!! (miserable, pissant child!)

Protagonist: I have the head of a criminal here, a gnome by the name of Neb. Is it you that I should be talking to?

Bylanna: What? You have... AH! Oh... that IS an actual head, isn't it? Er... I suggest you bring it to inspector Grega. He... can deal with it, I'm sure. (shudder)

Madame Nin: Greetings, my . I am Madame Nin, and I am here to ensure you are pleasantly accompanied. Are you interested in companionship, my ?

Protagonist: I suppose I am. How does one go about arranging this?

Madame Nin: Excellent. This is Cominda (Jenthan, if Protagonist is female), and will accompany you to your room, my Lady. You may speak with further, there, as you wish.

Viconia: I see the desires of the flesh have their way even with you, . This is good to see. I was beginning to think your libido as barren as that of a northern monk's.

Goldander Blackenrock: No offense, Malla Drow, but I see you do not wear the symbols of any House I know. You would fare no better in there, especially with your current companions.

Korgan: What good is this indigo she-beast if she is as much a target down here as the rest of us?

Edwin: Oh, I don't know. She has a certain... charm.

Korgan: 'Ey there, Vico. Edwin's sweet on ye.

Viconia: Indignity after indignity.

Salvanas: Ah, I sense you have an earthy wisdom about you, my sweet elf. I find that most sensual.

Jaheira: Do you also find sensual my disdain for your disgusting manner?

Salvanas: Ah, such passion! You set me on fire with your words... and with your lovely body, as well...

Jaheira: I could set you on fire with more than that, if you wish.

Salvanas: Well... er, no, not really...

Jaheira: The first thing of sense you have said. Now stay out of my way.

Salvanas: Hello, my pretty dove. I am Salvanas...and I am so pleased that my gaze has chanced to fall upon you...

Aerie: Are you talking to me?

Salvanas: But of course I am talking to you...your skin is so pale, your gaze so innocent and your hips so rounded...I burn with sudden, aching desire!

Aerie: Quayle told me about men like you. Go away, sir. And stop touching my hand!

Salvanas: But I am helpless but to reach out for you, my dove. Your beauty calls to me, stirs my passions within me!

Aerie: You'll have a magic missile or two within you pretty soon! Now stop all this nonsense and go away.

Salvanas: Hmmmm. I always love a dark, brooding woman. I sense that you have a sensuous nature, my elven beauty.

Viconia: You do not know the half of it, male.

Salvanas: Indeed? Perhaps we could...find someplace more private and discuss the things we have in common...?

Viconia: You do not interest me, male. And I doubt that you could withstand the force of drow passion.

Salvanas: I'd be willing to die if that is what it took to partake of your swarthy lust, my dear...

Viconia: Hmm...suddenly I am tempted. But no. Go away, male.

Salvanas: Why hello, there, my sweet one. Come here often?

Nalia: Get lost, Salvanas. You know I come here all the time.

Salvanas: And I have always watched you, dear Nalia...my heart burning with an ache that I cannot quench...

Nalia: That's cute, but that's the same thing you said to Priss last week.

Salvanas: You wound me, my dear...my heart beats only for you...

Nalia: Keep it up and it'll be more than words that wound you, silly man.

Salvanas: Ah, my little chestnut, we meet again!

Mazzy: By Arvoreen, not you! And stop calling me your little chestnut...that is a ridiculous name.

Salvanas: Are you not glad to see me again, my lovely diminutive one? I have burned to lay eyes upon you for so long...

Mazzy: No, I am not pleased to see you. How many times do I have to tell you that?

Salvanas: But Salvanas aches to hear your every word, my sweet...even if they are cruel and punishing...

Mazzy: (sigh) If you want to introduce your aches to cruel and punishing, I can arrange that. Now, for the last time, GO AWAY!

Salvanas: Ahhh...I have not seen you here, before, lovely creature. How do you do?

Edwin: [Slavic woman voice] Why...I'm just fine, you -- (aargh! Hold your tongue, fool!) Begone, you slithering eel!

Salvanas: Ah, yes...the eel...I slither about your loveliness because you draw me to you. You...with your dark lashes and come-hither eyes...

Edwin: [Slavic woman voice] I said begone! Can you not understand the simplest of common, you lumbering piece of filth!

Salvanas: Salvanas understands you. He hears your words and feels your passion. Your fire ignites ignites my own, my sweet...come to me...

Edwin: [Slavic woman voice] My, but you are a flatterer! (Gah!) I mean...stop it, get lost! A fireball in your gullet would dampen your mood, lizard!

Salvanas: Nothing could keep me away from your exotic grace...those hands...those lips...that throat...that, er, Adam's apple?

Edwin: [Slavic woman voice] GAAAAAHHHH!! (pig) NOW YOU DIE!!

[after encountering an hostile kuo-toa]

Protagonist: Hi! I want to pass through your land!

Kuo-Toa Leader: Klodg do g'ith dal shaog gossath! Geetaaah!

Protagonist: (sigh) This isn't going to end well, is it?

Protagonist: So what are you going to do now?

Spectator: Oh, you know. Find the nearest hive. Check out the ladies. The usual. You?

Protagonist: Fighting for my life. The usual.

Protagonist: A voice has bid me to quest in your... great land. I am not here to hurt you.

Kobold Shaman: You not hurt us? I think you lie! Surface come to hunt and smack with sword and club! Why believe? WHY?!

Protagonist: Because I will pay for what I have come for. It is an enchanted staff.

Kobold Shaman: Staff? You want Stick of Many Foods?! You not get! You come to steal greatest treasure of Crragtail empire! Better than Throne of Comfy, or Pipe That Smell Not Quite So Much!

Protagonist: I do not wish to diminish the glory of your rule, but how does 2000 gold sound?

Kobold Shaman: Insult that you try to buy great stick! You insult all us and... ehh... how much you say? What wa' dat?

Protagonist: 2000 gold for the glory of your realm.

Kobold Shaman: Yeah, glory, whateverrrr. Stick yours. Have funs above.

Kobold: Reaagh...wha?!

Kobold Shaman: We live in sewer, stupids! Stinky not funs! You sit and have realm. Stupid number three new leader. I go beaches and golds. Bye bye.

Protagonist: Might you have any advice, o Sentient Sword?

Lilarcor: Advice, eh? Well, besides working a little on your swordsmanship. Besides that, I'd have to think.

Lilarcor: Hmmm... find someone rich, and kill them. Find someone richer, and kill them, too! Hack and slash you way to fortune! Woo-hoo!!

Random Kid: You're a gnome, aren't you? My momma says that gnomes are good for nothing other than decorating the grounds.

Jan: Actually, young one, I have an Uncle Witherjar who decorates grounds professionally. He has become known all across his hometown as the Garden Gnome, and I understand he makes quite the fair living at it. I don't know if I would like to work all those hours during the day, as Uncle Witherjar does, so I think I would have to turn down your mother's suggestion. I could always refer her to my Uncle, I suppose, although it is such a far way. He wants to spread his work amongst all the gnomes, but I don't think he's made much headway, yet. If your mother would rather decorate her kitchen, I suppose I could give it a whirl even if I haven't got the Witherjar touch.

Kid: Huh?

Shadow Thief: No! Don't do this! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!!

Jon Irenicus: Silence, dog. You have no purpose but to die by my hand.

Simyaz: You there. We have fought in our battle, and I believe we are scheduled to face each other, when next the jailer comes.

Korgan: Well, then ye're dead. Shut up and let the rest of us get some sleep.

Icharyd: ...flesh here...enough to make me...whole again...

Protagonist: You'll taste this flesh over my dead body! Wait a minute...

Abazigal: Welcome. I have watched your progress with great interest. For a lesser creature you are quite amusing.

Protagonist: Hope you're amused when I 'progress' my blade through your heart, Abazigal.

Nevin: Help me! Help me, please!

Protagonist: What's the problem?

Nevin: It's Uncle Lester! He's risen from his grave! He scared everyone away who was at the funeral and now he's come after me! I put up with that cheap bastard all my life! You know what he left me in his will? A sweater! Now, even in death, the damnable fiend still torments me!!

Uncle Lester: Cheap sweater? I'll have you know that that belonged to your grandfather, you ungrateful git!

Nevin: Aaaaahhhh!! IT'S HIM!!

Uncle Lester: Call me a fiend, will you? I've never seen such a cheap funeral in my life! You sold my clothes and kept the casket closed! You picked the flowers this morning from near the swamp! And you gave a drunken priest of Talos a few coppers to slur some lines of profanity to pass for a eulogy! The outrage! The sheer outrage!!

Prisoner: ...uhhhh...UHHH...n-n-n-noOOO, PLEASE!!..

Booter: Now, what's all th' bloody noise about? It's not like I'm goin' to remove the red-hot poker simply 'cause you start pleadin' for mercy, now is it?

Prisoner: NO! NO, PLEASE! I'm BEGGING YOU! DON'T DO THIS!

Booter: Now, now, ye should have thought about that before you went and murdered your guild partners and their families. Now careful, your moving might cause real damage, here, an' then where would I be?

Prisoner: (gasp!) N-noooOOOO...Gggh...ngh...uuuhhhHHHAAAIIIIIEE!!

Booter: Tsk. I don't think you really appreciate the level of craftsmanship you're receiving, here. We've been at this for what? Four days? And you've only passed out twice. Do you know how hard that is? Ahhhh...the lack of appreciation, sometimes. Hmmmmn... Douglas, find me th' pliers. Time our guest, here, found some appreciation for the craft.

Apprentice Torturer Douglas: Oh...oh, oh... ...I...I don't think I can...

Simyaz: You live!? The Illithids let you go?! Astounding, unless you are in league with them. I warn you, if you serve them you shall share their fate.

Protagonist: No, actually, I DESTROYED THE WHOLE DAMN BUNCH WITHOUT YOU!!

(High Priestess Demin explains Irenicus' exile, as the latter's forces ravage the city)

Demin: A better man would have learned to appreciate what he had lost, perhaps learning humility and seek to make amends. He did not prove to be a "better man".

Protagonist: Wow, what was your first clue, genius?

Protagonist: Why do you use so many big words? Are you trying to make me feel stupid?

Kiser Jhaeri: My utilization of complex locution is more a reflection of my own superincumbent mental acuity than an aspersion on your circumscribed lexicon.

Protagonist: Maybe your grandiose vocabulary is a pathetic compensation for an insufficiency in the nether regions of your anatomy.