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     The Adventure Begins 
Gregor: I am like... 75% sure that is not a sheep.
Ashe: I'll add 15 to that 75. Markus, what do you think?
Markus: That is not a sheep. Not even a little bit. I don't even know why we're having this conversation.

Thog: When you're at this job long enough, you realize that most of humanity is pretty sad.

    The Adventure Began 
Ashe: He's creating sentient life right now.
Tiller: Yeah. That's the business of divine magic.
Ashe: And... and it's treated... like it's something so mundane. He's creating sentient life right now. And nobody else is amazed by this?
Gregor: YOUR PARENTS DID IT!

Tiller: If you don't crush its emotion, it kinda comes out a little human-like.
Markus: Oh, is there an issue?
Tiller: Yeah, most of the paladins around here find human-like golems to be a little weird. Emotion's generally considered to be a defect.
Ashe: "Weird"!? And that's the only reason that you rob a sentient life, that you yourself chose to create, of emotion? Because it's "weird"?
Tiller: Yeah.
Ashe: WOW.

Markus: Hold on, Aftin. So what you're telling me...'
Aftin: Yeah??
Markus: ... That you're getting paid a ludicrous sum of money to do a job that you've already completed, but continue to not complete it in the foreseeable future?
Aftin: Yeah!
Markus: You... are... a genius.

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     The Shrouded Isles 
Ashe: Well Markus. There's your sea monster.
Markus: There's a sea monster. It may not be the same one.

Ashe:(I push Markus and Gregor into the water.)
Gregor: My stick will get wet!

Ashe: Gregor! Head above the water!
Gregor: I'm trying!

Gregor: (I have no belongings. Except for those in my pouch. Rice cakes. Lots of rice cakes.)

Gregor: I think we're dead.

Markus: Being dead is just another kind of being alive. Except you're dead.

Gregor: Did we just meet god?

DM: (Markus hears screaming in the distance.)
Thugs: The resurrection!

Gregor: You know, I admit, I overreacted. Dying was not that bad.

Thog: I'm just gonna go re-evaluate everything I know about the universe.

Ashe: How did you make it through this ordeal?
Thog: I swam.
Gregor: That seems to be where we went wrong...

Thog: Say what you want about Alarann, our money's good.

Gregor: Hey Kyr? As a human scholar will you just confirm this for me...
Kyr: Yes Gregor?
Gregor: Uhh... these bones?
Kyr (high pitched): Yeah? Yeah...

Gregor: Don't drink that yet.
Markus: (I lower the ladle that I had brought up to my lips.)
Ashe: (I push Markus back.)
Gregor: Markus, one day we're going to take that ladle away.
Markus: But not today!

Markus: Do you take me for a fool?
Ashe: YES!

Markus: Gregor, do you think you could carry this cauldron?
Ashe: Gregor, don't carry the cauldron.
Gregor: I think I could, but I think it's best if I don't.

Ashe: Markus... (I stare at him through the hole in the wall.)
Markus: Shhh.
Ashe: Markus!

(After Markus tips over a cauldron of mysterious liquid:)

Markus: Wait, why are there fumes?
Ashe: (I stare Markus right in the face. I can't bring myself to say anything. I just don't know what to say.)

Orien the Spirit Warden: As you can see over there, I've been trying to form a new godslayer out of the bits of humans. It doesn't seem to be going so well. Perhaps there's an unknown element to it.
Markus: You scare me. I like that.

Ashe: (Gregor, Gregor I think this guy's a bad influence on Markus.)
Markus: You say you made this out of human bits? I'd love to see your notes on the process.
Gregor: (Yeah, I think you're right about that.)

     The Prison Of Lights 

Ashe: No. I'm afraid of what Kyl'il told us. A fate worse than death.
Gregor: That's just her being dramatic. It's metaphors and poetry.
Markus: It's not- Gregor, not this time. No more metaphors. This time the death is real. The danger is actual. And uh...There's no ship involved.

Gregor: See, this place isn't that bad!
Markus: This place is terrible.

     Dealing with Death 

     Incorpageddon 
Gregor: Well Dont, you've been adorable. (I pick her up and squeeze her tight)
Dont: Adorable and incredibly SQUAH-
Markus: Alright, alright, pass the pig.
Gregor: (Gregor passes the pigskin)

     Deck of Disaster 
Ashe: Which way did they go? Is there a trail of imp... bread crumbs?
Markus: (Look for the sparkles hanging in the air.)
Kyr: Oh wow, how could we even miss those?

Rat: You see, "The Father" is a, um, debilitating illness, let's just say. It requires you to only speak in rhyme, and shout only in puns.
Markus: AW, RATS!

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     Wizard Highschool 
Thog: What the fuck did I just walk into?

Thog: Wow. First day on the job and I'm already looking for a way out.

Gregor's Evil Twin: Ah I love destroying personal property.

Thog: Oh are you talking about your extremely fun card based adventure. That I'm pretty sure you people didn't have.

Gregor's Evil Twin: Let's pollute the environment!

     Romance of the Four Clans 

     The Gods Are Gone 
"Deep within the Heartland - outside of the sight of Xinkala, the clans, and even the ban - two beings meet silently, treading the border between shadow and oblivion.
The only remnants of their meeting: 16 scars forever burnt into the earth; a pool of boiling blood dying the thick grass black' and a circle of death twenty three meters across from their meeting point.
Six entire indigenous insect's colonies; four dormant predators; and ten migratory birds vanished into the inky abyss.
The length of their conflict: unknown, twenty seconds or twenty minutes lost amidst the silence.
Wordlessly, the backwards play ends.
The curtain is drawn away.
The actor remaining on stage: the defeated.
Not a word was spoken, but the loser perfectly understood his opponent.
"The spirit I seek is in Xinkala."
The shadows flicker - the stage is empty.
It would be one week before the curtain fell on Xinkala, calling forth a new nightmare.
But this tale has yet to reach the ears of its prey..."
-GM, Part 1

Gregor: Revenge just makes things messy. You’re making things messy.

     Everything is On Fire 

     Liquor and Spirits 
Ashe: Give them a couple minutes, they'll get bored with it and go somewhere else.
GM: The night passes very, very slowly.

Horaven: It always looks like they're about to be distracted by something, but then they just keep knitting those tiny clothes.

Horaven: I was reminiscing, about the good times.
Ashe: The good times? About that tiny blond kid killing you, or trying to kill you?
Horaven: Trying to—I'd be dead if he killed me!
Ashe: ...Yes, you would be dead if he killed you.
Horaven: That's just a fact.

Ashe: So like, you said we were going to the ban village, but, really all you're doing right now is playing in the water.

Ashe: A little more warning next time?
Horaven: I said it was mysterious.

Ashe: What is this place?
Horaven: Extremely mysterious-terious-terious-irious-irous!
Ashe: Horaven you uhh, there's no echo.
Horaven: I feel that it's important when giving people the tour for the first time.

Horaven: My village was destroyed, or more correctly, kindly asked to disband.

Horaven: We were destroyed by that proclamation! Everybody moved ou—
Ashe: Destroyed, okay. How many survivors?
Horaven: All of them! It was terrible.
Ashe: Wow, Horaven. My heart really goes out for you.

Ashe: What are those? (I point to the flowers braided on the rope.)
Horaven: They're flowers braided on a rope.
Ashe: ...Pretty.
Horaven: Yes.

Horaven: Do you perchance know what the meaning of beauty is?
Ashe: ...No, Horaven, I don't.
Horaven: Oh. I was kinda hoping you'd tell me.

DM: You continue wandering through the woodsies.
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     Big War 
Markus: What did you do to me?
Zeke: I can provide you with two explanations. One, I unlocked your final, hidden chakra, and the energy just spread throughout your body. Two, I caused a compound fracture in your skull, and the increased pressure has messed with your brain chemistry.
Markus: I'm thinking of renaming it "Markus Velafi's Conga Line For Peace Through Violence."

Colvin: Okay, so we're going to start with how to make a punch. But before you can make a punch, you need to understand a little bit behind the history of punching. It all begins with a game called Mahjong. Now we're going to be playing Ohnorian Mahjong today. You can't be playing Caravian Mahjong, those have different tiles. Now if we're playing Ohnorian Mahjong, you will be playing with a set of tiles called styles. Styles are small scrolls that resemble tiles. Do not get this confused with the style of play, that is something entirely different. If you're playing in the Caravian style of play, you are naturally a back stabbing bastard who uses necromancy within the game. This is a part of the ruleset and is accounted for. Now the winner can only be declared when you have piled your styles up high enough that you can no longer see your opponent, and therefore your truth, therefore you are forced to acknowledge your own in the shiny reflective surfaces made out of bone in front of you. You loudly declare yourself the winner, push all of the pieces off of the table, begin a fight, and the winner is the true winner. And that is how you play Ohnorian Mahjong. After the game, you will find your hands have been clenched into a ball-like structure. This is what we call a fist, and it is essential for punching. Thank you and good night.

     Harpy's Nest 
Markus: So, is this a biproduct of industrialization, or did they think it just looks good?
Firi: I like it. (Firi takes a look around) It has a certain...Noooooo...Look to it.
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