(ToB - CN Anomen, NG Illyria)

CN Anomen:
Lady Illyria, do you have noble blood running through your veins? I cannot help but notice the grace with which you carry yourself, the haughteur and admirable confidence.

Illyria:
Perhaps - but it does not concern you, Anomen, and of that I am sure.

CN Anomen:
So you do not know? Perhaps I can help you, next time we are in Amn. There are records-

Illyria:
If I am of noble blood, it is not human. My father was a fighter, plain and simple. No; my mother was once a well-known member of elven court. Perhaps that is what you see in me.

CN Anomen:
One day I would like to meet this woman you call your mother, Illyria; from everything you have told me, she sounds like a woman truly befitting of the status of Lady.

Illyria:
Thank you, Anomen. But you would not stand a chance.

CN Anomen:
What?

Illyria:
That is the reason to this flattery, is it not? Anomen, do not seek to beguile me with your words of poison - I will have none of it. You will not gain access to my bedroll-

CN Anomen:
I was trying to do no such thing!

Illyria:
Or my mother's.

CN Anomen:
That - preposterous... unfounded accusations!

Illyria:
Oh, Anomen, you are such an easy mark. I was only joking with you.

CN Anomen:
That may be, but I do not take kindly to such immature behaviour! Go play your pathetic jokes on someone else, Illyria, and leave me to my thoughts.



(ToB - Sir ANomen, NG Illyria)

Illyria:
I wish that bird would stop its awful screech of a song! It is an affront to the senses.

Anomen:
'Tis not all that harsh, Illyria. Surely *you* can appreciate the music of the birds?

Illyria:
Most birds, yes. But the damnable screech of a vulture sets my teeth on edge!

Anomen:
A vulture? Truly?

Illyria:
Yes - it is over there, if you will but take a look, Anomen. Ugh. Repulsive creatures, but I suppose they serve their purpose well enough.

Anomen:
I have heard of such, but never seen one. They are a mite ugly, aren't they? Perhaps they are not as bad as you make them out to be, however.

Illyria:
Anomen, they are scavengers. They scrabble and fight for any scrap of meat they can find, dead or alive.

Anomen:
Perhaps you are right, then.

Illyria:
Of course. When have I ever been wrong, Anomen?

Anomen:
Several times that I can think of, Illyria. But, no matter.

Illyria:
There you go, spoiling my fun, Anomen.

Anomen:
One cannot let you get *too* conceited, Illyria - surely you would not want for that?

Illyria:
Of course not, Anomen. No more than you.