Prince Erman: Could you give me a hand with this slimy hog-demon?
Caedmon: He has no weapon, Tyor, and he knows that even if you embrace the thought of killing him, you will become evil, and join him, and not kill him. GET IT?
Tyor: Ahh! Try again, Caedmon. I mean, it looks like chicken, it feels like chicken, but it eats like a rock.
Amathea: [after dispatching three bad guys with bow and arrow, sword-fighting with the last two] I probably should have left one more alive, just to be fair.