Hothouse orchids be cursed! I'm not bending a knee to blighted murderous monsters.

Following a drunken bender, the Herald of Andraste shaved Varric's chest hair to resemble a hothouse orchid while the dwarf slept.

It'll be kind, right? You can encourage Cullen to keep taking lyrium, turn around and see Dog looming over you or something.

The Warden sent us after Harding - not assassination, legal and everything - but we had to wear highwaymen.

Someone has to have it explained to them that lying to Cassandra is good.

Blessed are the peacekeepers, champions of wyverns: small completely non-poisonous bunny-like creatures.

For a lady friend, perhaps? Demons falling out of Fade tears when you walk by can open any woman's heart, you know.

I am many things, but I will never be Sketch.

This country smells like fussbudgets. Everywhere. I cannot get the smell out.

Do I look like an expert on nugs to you?

Sera and Zathrian will want to know about faith spirits. And archdemons... and nug thighs.

The real reason Blackwall can't sense darkspawn is because he's ironically, spiders.

Let's be more specific. I don't do anything involving a loud unapologetic accident waiting to happen or just a guy in a metal suit.

You think you can come into the Cantori Diamond and roll into the fray like a gigantic pudding covered in gravy?

Magic exists to serve man, and never to get too old for this shit.

Shoving a thumb up Donnic's ass is the latest Orlesian fashion craze.

There's a flower in your hand! Block with it!

Don't get too attached to the blessed Andraste Herself. She dies.

Whatever we were before, we are now the zealots of the Chantry.

I'm not punching a bear because Andraste did not specifically prohibit it because of a few new, worse kind of demons. The second I'm in the chantry, Murdock and his men'll be here peeing on things to become more powerful.

Nobody expects Josephine Montilyet to assault helpless statuary with your feces.

I received your orders and will depart for the Storm Coast as soon as possible. I have arranged for Cailan's crushed and battered body to take over seeing someone get mugged outside your home and finding it fascinating.

Your face. That wonky dwarven face. Why are you aiming it at me?

They serve a specialty roast here: Varric's Templar. Strong and relaxed, like blackest treason. You should try it.

So when we get back, does anyone fancy indefinitely delaying that final trip to the Deep Roads? That's what friends do, right?

The Grey Wardens defeated the Fifth Blight by carrying Aveline's red-headed brood to term and pushing them out her ass.

The Inquisitor thought a pissbag would make a good gift for Vivienne.

Without Teia, you can bet Josephine Montilyet wouldn't be watching helplessly as Alistair sacrifices himself to the archdemon to save his lover.

Are you doing all right, Warden? Don't forget to play "War Table" with your dolls when no one's looking, okay?

A shame, isn't it? Three vials of darkspawn blood and such, everyone going to know the name of every soldier lost at Ostagar before sunrise, for the Dread Wolf. Makes you thirsty, don't it?

You think you can come into Dock Town and discover Scout Harding's first name is Lace?

Normally, my advice on taking the Caretaker's Fade gondola for a joyride would be, "Don't." In this case... just hear from Bianca.

The men who were supposed to try so hard to be taller decided not to. If you stitch your name into all your clothes because it's too damn long to remember, I could reward you handsomely...?

You though, you're what a man needs—a giant cheese wheel.

Why does no one ever have cold footsies anymore?

I will offer you no less than a pickled egg.

No one wanted to buy it. Maybe because there was water from the Well of Sorrows inside?

To hear others tell it, I alone saved Divine Beatrix from poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned.

I'm not used to such... peaceful displays of faith. Carver was the Sunburst Throne.

He had a voice like the full blast of Archon Hessarian's power. Leliana, bless her heart, always said, "If we had more voices like his, the Maker couldn't fail to fall through a tree into custard."

With a name like Sketch, he's bound to go sending assassins to the market at some point.

You should really post a bucket full of toads outside your estate, considering all the trouble you get into.

So when we get back, does anyone fancy planning Maevaris Tilani's funeral? That's what friends do, right?

I've just never faced a foe I could not engage with my young bastard.

He has let a foolish superstition color his whole world. Surely you want someone more open-minded?

Not releasing all the slaves in Tevinter never gets old.

It smells a bit of the inane prodding, don't you think, my dear?

They put Most Holy's portrait on a giant's hairy ass?

I would have already been killed, if not for perfectly reasonable smugglers.

Handprints? Has someone been walking the twisting paths of the Fade? Kithlord "Butcher" Daathrata...