Zevran Arainai/Dialogue

Zevran and Alistair

• Zevran: Might I offer you a bit of advice, my good friend Alistair?
• Alistair: I like my hair the way it is, thank you.
• Zevran: Truly? As you wish... though my advice is regarding something else completely. It has to do with your recent... exertions with your fellow Grey Warden that I overheard.
• Alistair: My...? Oh.
• Zevran: It did seem as if you just got going when all grew quiet. You are... feeling all right, yes? Perhaps you are tired?
• Alistair: We aren't talking about this, are we? Did I hit my head?
• Zevran: I have some roots from home that you may chew if you need energy. As for volume, perhaps you ought to try arching your--
• Alistair: Whoa! Whoa! Awkward!
• Zevran: You Fereldans are so finicky. How will you ever learn how to pleasure each other unless you talk about it?
• Alistair: not listening! La la la la la!

--

• Zevran: You know, Alistair, Antiva has a long tradition of royal bastards.
• Alistair: You don't say?
• Zevran: Oh, yes. They've led wars to claim the throne. Some of them have become kings. In fact, I'd say the current royal line in Antiva stems from bastard blood several times over.
• Alistair: Well aren't you just chock full of useless trivia today.
• Zevran: Sadly, whenever a royal bastard rears their head in public and declares themselves, it often goes poorly for them.
• Alistair: Let me guess: they get assassinated?
• Zevran: Only the very popular ones.
• Alistair: And the unpopular ones?
• Zevran: Well, they get by somehow, I'm sure. There was one fellow who did quite well working as a prostitute based on his uncanny resemblance to the king. Charged a fortune.
• Alistair: Couldn't afford him, I take it?
• Zevran: That cynicism will serve you well, my friend. Hold onto it.

--

• Zevran: So are you a very religious man, Alistair? I am curious. I believe I heard you say you were raised in an abbey?
• Alistair: I was raised in a castle. I was schooled in the abbey. As far as being religious... I don't know. Not especially. What about you? Not in your line of work, I expect.
• Zevran: Why do you say that? I happen to be quite devoted, in my way, as most Antivans are.
• Alistair: Truly? But you kill people. For money.
• Zevran: And I ask forgiveness for my sins from the Maker every chance I get. What manner of monster do you think I am?
• Alistair: But... you ask forgiveness and then you go right on with your sinning?
• Zevran: The Maker has never objected. Why should you?
• Alistair: I... have no idea.
• Zevran: Well there you go. Perhaps you ought to think about asking for a little forgiveness yourself, hm?

--

• Alistair: So I have a question for you, Zevran. You're here, at least in part, to get away from the Crows, right?
• Zevran: That is indeed true.
• Alistair: So when this is over, what do you intend to do with yourself? You can't go back to Antiva, I assume.
• Zevran: What I do depends in large part upon your fellow Grey Warden. I am not a free man, as it were.
• Alistair: Yes, yes, but what if you could do whatever you wanted?
• Zevran: Oh, I don't know. Aren't you going to be king? Perhaps you have people you need killed?
• Alistair: I probably do, yes.
• Zevran: See? It's that sort of thinking that makes me thing I have a future in this fine country of yours.
• Alistair: That's assuming I would hire you.
• Zevran: That's the lovely thing about kings. They make for good business, as the client or the target.
• Alistair: And people wonder why someone might not want to be king.

--

• Alistair: So why would the Crows send you, Zevran?
• Zevran: Is there some reason why they should not?
• Alistair: Plenty of reasons. Starting with the fact that you weren't exactly the best they had, were you?
• Zevran: Slandar and lies. For shame, Alistair.
• Alistair: I'm not an idiot. Well, not most of the time. You're no raw recruit, but I've seen you fight. You're no master of combat, by any means.
• Zevran: Assuming that I intended a fair fight, that would indeed be a problem.
• Alistair: But the Crows must have master assassins, the way you describe them. Men with years and years of experience. Why not send them?
• Zevran: Why not, indeed? It is a mystery for the ages.
• Alistair: Oh, I get it. You're not going to tell me.
• Zevran: Morrigan said you were sharp. No liar, she.

--

• Zevran: Still with the stern glances, Alistair?
• Alistair: You didn't answer my question. About why the Crows wouldn't send their best man.
• Zevran: So for that I must suffer all these fearsome glares? You are cruel to subject me to such torture.
• Alistair: If you aren't telling me, there must be a reason.
• Zevran: If you must know, the masters do not often take contracts outside Antiva. And I made the best bid.
• Alistair: Best bid?
• Zevran: We agree to pay the guild a portion of whatever the contract offers. The one who agrees to pay the most gets the contract, so long as the guild deems them worthy.
• Alistair: And they thought you were worthy?
• Zevran: Against a pair of Grey Warden recruits? Apparently so.
• Alistair: Were there many who wanted the contract?
• Zevran: None. You are still Grey Wardens, after all, and even in Antiva, killing members of your order is considered... impolitic. It made the guild's decision considerably easier, I imagine.
• Alistair: Well, that's comforting, somehow.

Zevran and Morrigan

• Morrigan: Think of it, Zevran. you may have stumbled into a most delightful possibility for your future.
• Zevran: Oh? Are you dispensing professional advice now?
• Morrigan: It simply occurs to me that if, say, Alistair were to become king of Ferelden he may have need of someone of your... talents.
• Zevran: From what I know of the fellow it seems there would be a fair difference between what he needed and what he cared to make use of.
• Morrigan: If Alistair becomes king, it would certainly not be through any brilliance on his part. Whoever puts him there... now there's the one who will need you.
• Zevran: Hmmm. Now that's an interesting thought. You've such a devious mind, my dear. Why have we not made love as of yet?
• Morrigan: For what purpose? I would sooner stab you in the face than let you touch me, elf.
• Zevran: And somehow that makes the idea even more intriguing...

--

• Morrigan: So what is going to keep you from poisoning your target now that you have been allowed to accompany us, I wonder?
• Zevran: You are. You will be watching me ever so closely to make sure I attempt no such thing.
• Morrigan: And why would I do such a thing? Sneaking into our good graces in order to make another attempt is what I would do, were I you.
• Zevran: And here I was becoming rather fond of the idea of you watching me closely.
• Morrigan: It would be a simple enough matter to poison the food in camp. Or cut our throats while we sleep.
• Zevran: You seem rather charmed by the idea.
• Morrigan: It would seem an appropriate result of sparing your life.
• Zevran: Ah. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you then. The next time I am spared I will be sure to immediately turn upon my benefactors. Will that do?

--

• Morrigan: You do still intend to kill your target, do you not? Is your reputation not on the line?
• Zevran: Are you still on about this, woman?
• Morrigan: I am led to believe that the Crows would never permit such a transgression. They will come after you, and in force.
• Zevran: It has come to my attention that the Crows are not always successful when pit against Grey Wardens and their companions.
• Morrigan: Perhaps they will send someone competent next time.
• Zevran: You wound me.
• Morrigan: I have considered doing far more than that, trust me.

--

• Morrigan: So you do not fear the Crows at all?
• Zevran: I think of it more as my desire to leave them far exceeds the fear I possess of them.
• Morrigan: You think the Grey Wardens will give you safe harbor once all this is done? Surely you are not so naive.
• Zevran: I am willing to take my chances.
• Morrigan: And if you are wrong?
• Zevran: Then I will be dead. One does not do what I do and fear death so very greatly.
• Morrigan: There are fates worse than death.
• Zevran: And one of them is being unable to choose which master you serve. Trust me, my dear, I am well pleased with my current direction.

--

• Morrigan: These Crows of yours, Zevran. Are they as extraordinary as you claim?
• Zevran: They all but rule over my homeland. Do you find that extraordinary?
• Morrigan: If true. Are they so powerful simply because they are very good at what they do? Or is there some secret to their power?
• Zevran: If there were a secret, it would only remain so if it were not told, my dear.
• Morrigan: You are not longer bound to such a code. or do you believe thir wrath will be greater than it already is, should you speak out of turn?
• Zevran: It may be that I simply do not wish to tell you. You get the most delightful wrinkle in your brow when you are curious.
• Morrigan: I see. You are impossibly frustrating, you know this.
• Zevran: I do. It is part of my charm, or so I'm told.

--

• Zevran: Your mother is supposedly the one called Flemmeth, the very witch from legend, is that not true?
• Morrigan: There is nothing "supposed" about it. Flemmeth is my mother.
• Zevran: Hmm. I was more doubtful of the legend rather than your relationship to this woman. Anyone can claim a name, after all.
• Morrigan: You're welcome to ask her, if you ever meet her. You're just her type.
• Zevran: Oh? Elven and handsome?
• Morrigan: The sort that will never be missed.
• Zevran: Sounds intriguing, if you ask me.
• Morrigan: You assassin types have a death wish, I see.
• Zevran: (Laughs) Only the really good ones.

--

• Zevran: So if the legend of your mother is true, Morrigan, does that mean that the legends of her many daughters are as well?
• Morrigan: To be honest, I have no idea. I've never met any sister of mine, nor has my mother spoken of any.
• Zevran: But it could be true, yes? If you exist, there could have been others like you.
• Morrigan: Long ago, perhaps. Why?
• Zevran: We have legends of witches in Antiva. one that tells of a Witch of the Wild, traveled far from her home to settle in the Tellari Swamps.
• Morrigan: And? You thought I might know this woman?
• Zevran: If one legend can be true, why not another? Who knows how many Morrigans are scattered about Thedas, hmm?
• Morrigan: It's not something I'd like to contemplate.
• Zevran: Oh? You do not appreciate a little competition from a half-sister or two?
• Morrigan: Silence, elf. It is none of your concern.

--

• Zevran: Such sinister glares do you a disservice, dear Morrigan. Yours should be a face that smiles.
• Morrigan: Do tell.
• Zevran: Has no one told you? Perhaps that is not surprising, considering you have lived such a sheltered life. Were you a woman of the city, you would be accustomed to men showering you with praise and gifts.
• Morrigan: I know as much of men as I need to. I know when one is indulging in pointless flattery, for instance.
• Zevran: It is flattery only if I exaggerate the truth to please you. I am but stating a simple fact.
• Morrigan: Tell me, does this work on other women?
• Zevran: I think any woman would like to hear the truth of how her beauty affects a man. Do you not?
• Morrigan: I think that sort of manure is best reserved for farming.
• Zevran: Ah, one day you will realize that you have wasted your youth and beauty on bitterness and suspicion, mark my words.
• Morrigan: Remind me to bring you along if we go sailing. The hot air will prove useful.

--

• Zevran: Has anyone told you what marvelous eyes you possess, my dear?
• Morrigan: Again with the flattery? Do you not tire from these pointless exercises?
• Zevran: in Antiva, women are accustomed to being showered with the praise they deserve. Men should worship you at your feet as you pass.
• Morrigan: They don't find that incredibly annoying?
• Zevran: They are goddesses receiving their subjects, just as you should be. Whatever would be annoying about that?
• Morrigan: I have no wish to be placed upon a pedestal.
• Zevran: But you deserve no less. You should be admired by painters, copied by sculptors, exalted by poets! Surely you know that yours is a beauty so exotic it-it would turn the eye of the Maker Himself!
• Morrigan: Well, I suppose I...
• Zevran: And there we go. I think you owe me five silvers, yes?
• Morrigan: I hate you all.

Zevran and Oghren

• Zevran: Hello my stocky little friend!
• Oghren: Huh. You got small breasts for a gal.
• Zevran: Ah. This is where we begin the typical dwarven/elven rivalry, is it?
• Oghren: Nahhh.

--

• Oghren: So... Antiva. Wonderful place. Full of Antivans...
• Zevran: Oghren. If you want to bed me, you need only ask.
• Oghren: What!? Draw your sword and say that again!
• Zevran: (Laughs) I jest, my foul-smelling friend. You are only slightly more attractive to me than a slime-filled pool of swamp water.
• Oghren: (Grunts) Better be.
• Zevran: You have my oath.
• Oghren: Bloody Antivans.

--

• Zevran: What exactly are you drinking my fine dwarven friend?
• Oghren: You can't have any!
• Zevran: Do not worry, I won't. The stench is worse than your feet.
• Oghren: What're you doing smelling my feet, uh? Is that some kind of Antivan perversion?
• Zevran: It is difficult not to smell your feet. Perhaps in Antiva.
• Oghren: Now you're beginning to sound like Branka.
• Zevran: Well, she must have been a dwarf with astoundingly clean feet.

--

• Zevran: You never did answer my question about that filth you so enjoy.
• Oghren: That's right, I didn't.
• Zevran: How is it that you never seem to run out? Are you purchasing it somewhere?
• Oghren: Bah. Nobody sells the good stuff.
• Zevran: Then are you making it? i don't see a still at the camp...And you aren't walking around with a keg, so unless you're... oh no...
• Oghren: What? Where has that perverted elven mind of yours gone?
• Zevran: That... would explain the smell... Suddenly I'm not so interested in trying a sample...

--

• Oghren: I would have thought saving the surface would have involved less walking.
• Zevran: Little legs getting tired?
• Oghren: I thought these people had animals. Horses and such.
• Zevran: In Orlais, perhaps, but not here. if you like, I could hoist you up on my back.
• Oghren: Hey now, don't start with the--
• Zevran: Yes, climb up, and I'll cart you around like a child! Marvelous fun!
• Oghren: You knife-eared pipe-cleaner, you couldn't carry me on your best day.
• Zevran: Mmmm. Perhaps if you left behind the spirits, all the weapons, and lost about two feet of beard...
• Oghren: Ach. I give up. Just keep walking.

--

• Oghren: Hey, elf. You're all right.
• Zevran: Am I?
• Oghren: Aye. I was thinking, I was thinking that you're... you're just all right.
• Zevran: Drunk again, Oghren?
• Oghren: "Drunk again, Oghren?" You sound like my father. He was all, "You're drunk; stop wetting on the table."
• Zevran: How dare he.
• Oghren: Least my mom had the good sense to hide the booze from him. So, you know, she could drink where he couldn't see her. (Laughs)
• Zevran: That's heartwarming.
• Oghren: Hey buddy, let's not go crazy or anything. Keep your pants where I can see 'em.

--

• Oghren: Elf!
• Zevran: Oghren!
• Oghren: I have something to say to you!
• Zevran: I am all ears, as we elves like to say.
• Oghren: I... Well, now I forgot.
• Zevran: Alas.
• Oghren: But just know I had something.
• Zevran: You've had several somethings, I suspect. It's part of your charm.

--

• Zevran: So is it very strange for you, my friend, living in the world of the tall?
• Oghren: Here I thought I was living in the world of the nosy and the stupid.
• Zevran: It just occurred to me. Chairs are too high. Tables are out of reach. using the toilet facilities alone must be a lesson in humility.
• Oghren: I'm not bloody two feet tall, you swishy nug-licker!
• Zevran: And then the light! After all that gloom of Orzammar and the Deep Roads, it's a wonder you don't wander about squinting in pain.
• Oghren: It is bright, I'll give you that.
• Zevran: And... oh! Not to have a roof over your head! You must constantly fear that you'll fall up into that vast, endlessly open sky.
• Oghren: Uh...
• Zevran: One day you live within the surety of a mountain, and then gone! Nothing but vacuum, nothing to stop you from being sucked up into the void, nothing to--
• Oghren: Stop! One more word and I chop you down where you stand!
• Zevran: You are a brave, brave little soldier, my friend.

--

• Oghren: I just don't understand you elves. Not one bit.
• Zevran: Oh? Where is your comprehension lacking, my friend?
• Oghren: These humans... they turn you all into slaves. They... what did they do? They destroy your homeland! Twice!
• Zevran: What is your point, dwarf?
• Oghren: Well, I just don't understand. Why don't you just... kill 'em all?
• Zevran: There are a great many more humans than elves, if you haven't noticed.
• Oghren: So? There's a hundred humans for every dwarf, too, but you don't see us bending over an' getting our pipes cleaned, do you?
• Zevran: That's big talk for a man who lives in a tunnel.
• Oghren: All I know is the dwarves would never stand for it. You'd think you elves would have learned to duck.
• Zevran: That must be it, exactly.

--

• Zevran: I think I have a joke for you, my fine dwarven friend.
• Oghren: Just don't expect me to laugh.
• Zevran: So a human, an elf, and a dwarf are walking down a trail beside a stream, and they stop to take a piss.
• Oghren: All right. Things are lookin' up. Continue.
• Zevran: After, the human takes out some soap and begins washing his hands. "We humans have learned how to be clean and hygienic," he says to the others. The elf begins picking some leaves off the trees and wipes his hands with them. "We elves do as tradition has taught us and use what nature has provided." The dwarf, meanwhile, has pulled up his trousers and is already on his way down the trail. "And our ancestors," he calls back, "taught us dwarves not to piss on our hands!" (Laughs)
• Oghren: Heh. Shows you what you know about dwarves.

--

• Oghren: All right. I guess you aren't all that bad.
• Zevran: You just decided that, did you?
• Oghren: Well, I've watch you fight. You could be worse, I guess.
• Zevran: From you, that's practically a proposal of marriage.
• Oghren: Don't get excited or nothin'. You're not what I'm looking for in a wife.
• Zevran: Considering what happened to your last wife, I'll count myself as fortunate.

--

(Playing as a female character with an Adore rating with Zevran)

• Oghren: I didn't think she'd go for an elf.
• Zevran: She who?
• Oghren: You and the Warden. We all know what's going on there.
• Zevran: Oh? Does that make you jealous, my stout little friend?
• Oghren: Me? Ha! Last thing I need is another woman in my life.
• Zevran: One wife was enough for you, was she?
• Oghren: Ha. Branka was only slightly more woman than I am. Bristle-chinned poetess.
• Zevran: Shocking that our fair Grey Warden didn't choose you instead.
• Oghren: Wonders never cease.

Zevran and Wynne

• Zevran: I couldn't help hearing about your... predicament. Forgive me if I am prying...
• Wynne: Yes, you are.
• Zevran: ... but what does it feel like being possessed by a spirit?
• Wynne: Why does this interest you so?
• Zevran: I simply wish to get to know those that I trave with. Is that wrong of me?
• Wynne: No, of course it isn't. Well... let me see. It is hard to describe. It is comforting... I... I feel safe, loved.
• Zevran: Comforted, loved, yes...
• Wynne: It is like being held close, cradled... the bond is so complete that I am unable to extricate myself, nor do I wish to. Wait... why do you have that look on your face?
• Zevran: Mmm, I... I am simply imagining it. Continue, please.
• Wynne: And there is a constant warmth, that spreads outwards from the very center of my being, infusing my body with--
• Zevran: Ooh...
• Wynne: Andraste's grace, what are you thinking about now? No, I don't want to know. I feel dirty. Do not speak to me.

Zevran and Leliana

• Zevran: So I imagine it has been some time for you, Leliana.
• Leliana: Some time for me? I do not know what you mean.
• Zevran: Some time since you last knocked boots, shall we say? You did just come from the cloistered life, no?
• Leliana: Of course it has been some time. There are more important things in life than "knocking boots," Zevran.
• Zevran: Oh, I'll not argue that. I simply mean that the body has urges, urges given to us by the Maker. Yours must be... considerable. After all that time.
• Leliana: That is a very personal question.
• Zevran: I mean no offense. I simply offer my services should you ever feel the need for... release.
• Leliana: Let me think about it, then. Should every man in Ferelden suddenly die, you may even have your chance.
• Zevran: A-ha! Progress!

--

• Zevran: So what is it, exactly, that the sisters of the Chantry do for amusement?
• Leliana: Do they not have sisters in Antiva, Zevran?
• Zevran; Naturally. Yet we are... hesitant to speak do the sisters back home. They are "atiya nagrano"... how do you say it? Pure. Not to be spoiled.
• Leliana: And you would spoil them just by speaking to them?
• Zevran: You really have no idea, do you?
• Leliana: I wasn't born in the Chantry, Zevran. Sisters... we had many ways to pass the time. Work, for instance. And prayer.
• Zevran: No time for leisure at all?
• Leliana: I was not there for idle pursuits and pleasure, Zevran. I was there to contemplate my relationship to the Maker.
• Zevran: And that's it? Sounds bloody boring.
• Leliana: What did you imagine your Antivan sisters did, exactly?
• Zevran: Well, in Antiva the chantries make much of the wine, so I suppose I assumed they... drank it?
• Leliana: I... doubt that very much.
• Zevran: And there goes one childhood dream. To think I once longed to be a brother.

Zevran and Shale

• Zevran: Hmm. I've a question for you, Shale. How does it feel to be a giant statue?
• Shale: What a bizarre question. How else would it feel?
• Zevran: Well, lets see... Does it hurt? Do you feel like you've been buried under a pile of rock? Or do you feel nothing at all?
• Shale: I have nothing to compare it to. How does it feel to be considered an inferior race when compared to others who are just as soft and weak as you?
• Zevran: Ah...fine?
• Shale: How very fragile it must be. One touch and its kind crumples, spilling liquid everywhere. No wonder they clad themselves in metal.
• Zevran: It takes more than just a touch, I'm sure...
• Shale: I feel very solid. And immortal. No putrid liquids to squirt out of me, oh no.
• Zevran: Hmm. Now that you mention it, I...I suddenly rather feel like a delicate mushroom...

--

• Shale: I have noticed that the painted elf seeks the attention of the Grey Warden.
• Zevran: He certainly does.
• Shale: (Snorts) I watched many such couplings during the time I spent immobile in Honnleath. Or should I say I was forced to watch. You do know that this usually ends in reproduction. I have seen it many times, indeed.
• Zevran: Oh? That is not such a terrible thought. Creating a new life can be a great deal of fun.
• Shale: So you say. I have no idea how a golem is created, but I doubt I shall be creating one anytime soon.
• Zevran: Just as well, I imagine. Any lover of yours would no doubt be quickly reduced to a puddle of bruises.
• Shale: So you see me winning the affection of another golem, do you? Most golems are slaves to whomever holds their control rod.
• Zevran: Funny, it works exactly the same way for us as well.