Preview Banters - Page One

Ajantis-Edwin (by Merja)

Ajantis: I have been warned about your blood-cowled kind, wizard. Have you no fear of divine punishment?

Edwin: You think any deity gives a fig, my naive cavalier? If any deity ever hears out at least the tenth portion of the pathetic fools crowding in the temples, their days are full, without bothering with retribution. (Though one might be tempted to cast divine lightning on the more idiotic, as a stress reliever.) So, you see, I have nothing to worry about. As for the gods who do not indulge these cretins and their constant whining, I am fully assured it would endorse my outstanding intellect rather than punish it.

Ajantis: You are wrong to think your actions go unwatched by the gods. At least one defender of justice has his eyes set on you, and you should fear the forces of right!

Edwin: Oh! That would be you and your Helm? (How utterly boring...) Now I am truly scared. What are you going to do? Murder me in the middle of the square? Go on, attempt it, though that armor will certainly provide a lovely tin wrapping for the stake you will become. I am sure your Helm will be greatly pleased with such a deed.

Ajantis: He would be pleased with your death, as he would be pleased with the death of any vile serpent. Men like you are a stain, Edwin, and it is my mission to have them removed.

Edwin: There are no men like me, Ajantis. There is only me. (That was certainly one of my best lines yet. As soon as I am rid of him, I shall take the time to write it down in my memoirs.)

Ajantis: Each follower of evil thinks himself unique for some reason, wizard, but there is nothing that makes foul men more similar than their delusion of being exceptional. You think too much of yourself, and that will be your doom.

Edwin: I think I'd rather meet my doom thinking too much of myself then spend a lifetime thinking myself a small tile on the floor of the Temple of any god.

Alora-Eldoth by NiGHTMARE

Alora: Eldoth, your songs. They're always so... so...

Eldoth: Brilliant? Inspired?

Alora: No, that's not it...

Eldoth: Wondrous? Amazing?

Alora: No... they're... they're just awful!

Eldoth: Hmmph. I trust you are referring to their subject matter and not their musical form, for I can assure you that the latter is as near as perfection as can be.

Alora: It's the words... must you always sing about death, hatred and betrayal?

Eldoth: Of course! After all, are these not the certainties of life?

Alora: Hatred and betrayal are certainties to you?

Eldoth: If you were not quite so naive, then they would be to you as well.

Branwen-Dynaheir (by Karkaddin)

Branwen: Do you never tire of slaying foes with the wiggling of your fingers? Yes, yes, there are flames and lightning colored as rainbows and Tempus knows what else, but surely such things, grand as they appear, lack the sheer joy of crushing the ribs of your foe with your might until the shattered pieces pierce his heart....

Dynaheir: Dost thou never stop to consider the morbid images that wrap themselves 'round thy words as venomous serpents 'round a tree branch? Thy lack of recognition for the pains thou dost cause with such zest troubles the soul.

Branwen: No... in my homeland, we have no snakes that go aloft to the trees.

Dynaheir: By the Three, battle priestess, pretend not to miss the point! Thou dost understand me well enough.

Coran-Minsc (by Domi)

Coran: Minsc, you traveled this far to be accepted to the Ice Dragon berserker lodge? The membership must be highly sought, if you are to accomplish such a feat to join.

Minsc: 'tis true. The lodge is a place for legendary warriors to meet and their trade tales of fights with evil, manly deeds and manly talk.

Coran: Dragons killed single-handedly and such?

Minsc: Deeds of valor and great bravery. And all done in berserk fury!

Coran: Hmmm. I remember I once crossed a river at the rapids, jumping from slippery stone to slippery stone, fighting for my dear life every step of the way. It was bravery and folly at the same time.

Minsc: Were there any monsters? Fighting evil is the necessary part of hero-ing!

Coran: Some xvarts were shooting arrows at me, as far as I can recall.

Minsc: Oh, why did not you say so from the very beginning? That's the most interesting part! Look, Boo is all ears now!

Coran: It has ears? Oh, well. There were some xvarts. I fought them and then I crossed the river as they chased me.

Minsc: You walked away from the battle? That's cowardice! You should have charged blindly on!

Coran: * Shrugs* One does grow tired of fighting xvarts, you know.

Dynaheir-Jaheira (by SarahJ)

Dynaheir: Jaheira, canst thou tell me what kind of herb this is? It hath a strong fragrance, refreshing and soothing both.

Jaheira: Mhmm, yes. This is Arrowmint, prized by incense-makers and for its antiseptic properties.

Dynaheir: Antiseptic, thou sayest? Doth it need to be specially prepared?

Jaheira: No, while it can be used in salves, it is most effective when the fresh leaves are crushed and applied directly to a wound.

Dynaheir: Most interesting. I thank thee for sharing thy knowledge with me. While I am well versed in the herbal lore of my home, many of the plants that grow in these lands are unknown to me.

Jaheira: Nature provides well for her children, and I am glad to assist anyone who appreciates her bounty.

Edwin-Quayle (by Merja)

Edwin: Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You speak from morning till evening and even in your sleep you mutter something. I am positively and utterly tired of your prattle. (And I have a growing migraine, completely not drinking related, of course.) Just shut up!

Quayle: My amazing brain has to find its relief verbally. If I hold on to all the ideas that it creates, my head would burst. And you would do well to listen to what I say; maybe you will smarten up some.

Edwin: I do not need to smarten up. If I were but a tad more intelligent (as we with the advanced vocabulary like to call it) the gods themselves would be jealous.

Quayle: Oh, that is a cruel destiny but some of us learnt to cope with it—me, for example, if you are too stupid to get my subtle hint.

Edwin: Certainly, then, you must know silence is the breeding ground of thought? (If even this fails, I will find a bard to sell his vocal chords to. Surely no guitar string has ever withstood so much pressure without failing) Do attempt to nest some useful thoughts in that resounding skull of yours.

Quayle: Actually, according to my last research, discussion is the most productive way to develop ideas. They call it brainstorming, a technique that I have easily mastered. But nay, mastered is an understatement. I have perfected this technique and raised it to a form of art; I can do brain-hurricaning or brain-typhooning or brain-earthquaking...not only mere, humble "storming".

Edwin: Stay away from me gnome. Now and forevermore...stay away from me! Else I will research the depth of every bodily orifice you have with the very first lightning rod I encounter! (Why do I suffer these fools? Surely there must be a better fate for a skilled mage such as I somewhere on this simian infested continent.)

Eldoth-Jaheira (by Dan)

Eldoth: Might I spin you a tale, milady?

Jaheira: If this one is as venom-laden as your usual lot, then I will have to decline.

Eldoth: Ah, but this is an immensely intriguing tale, my voluptuous woods-queen.

Jaheira: Your wha—

Eldoth: Shh, shh. It's a tale of a headstrong and domineering sort of woman, so caught up in her boorish fixation on her skewed sense of the right that she often broke the spirits of her loved ones and ... well, perhaps you've heard of it?

Jaheira: Miserable swine. Already your tale smells foul.

Eldoth: Yes, much like aforementioned lady. It would seem that shunning societal conveniences like bathing produces a rather pungent odor.

Jaheira: Hm. You know, Eldoth, I am reminded of a similar story.

Eldoth: Truly?

Jaheira: I don't recall much but the ending, when the poor fool's head was caved in by but a simple strike from but a simple wooden staff.

Eldoth: ... point duly noted.

Faldorn-Imoen (by Domi)

Faldorn: Imoen! This cockroach was on its way and did not display aggression. Why kill it?

Imoen: Because it's icky! And crawly, and dirty and disgusting!

Faldorn: Do not be ridiculous Imoen. You had a sudden strike of your killer instinct and wanted it for food that must be it. You do not have to pretend with me, I am no degenerative townling.

Imoen: Food? I don't eat such things! It... they live in manure! They are everywhere! Uh, there's another one! *splat* Please Faldorn, please let go of my ear!

Faldorn: Did you lose your wits completely? Or did these monks in the library alter your natural instincts so much that you misinterpret them? Animals you eat produce manure in case it is not known in Candlekeep. Now be true to your nature and eat your kills. Before I'd splat * you * and feed you to their colony to compensate for the loss they endured from you.

Imoen: Hum. I'm, I'm not hungry! I'll eat them *heh* later. Maybe we can share? What's a snack without (ahem) your flock?

Faldorn: Now you are talking straight. It's always pleasing to put some townling's brains right and make her see the true way of things.

Garrick-Eldoth (by Andyr)

Garrick: Don't you ever want to make music about happy things? I could teach you some of my songs, if you'd like. I was trained in Berdusk, you know.

Eldoth: Ah, the naïve would-be bard speaks. You don't know anything of the real world, and your playing I find sloppy and with a distinct lack of technique.

Garrick: That's a bit unfair. I was just trying to be friendly. I had hoped we could exchange songs and tales of adventure.

Eldoth: Ha, there is nothing I could learn from you. What are your tales of adventure? Drinking a pint of ale for the first time perhaps? You wouldn't last a minute in the real world without us adults at your back.

Garrick: Why do you say these things? You're so mean!

Eldoth: Don't speak to me then, if your childish mind can't hack the truth.

Garrick: Fine.

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