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Haer'Dalis's quotes presents lines spoken by Haer'Dalis, together with the associated sound files.

Haer'Dalis is one of the most eloquent members of the party, which, for a bard, comes as no surprise. A poet and a dreamer, he enjoys naming his companions as various animals in his dialogues, calling the most heavily armored members "hounds", and giving diverse bird names to the rest. He teases all members of the party with quips and is quite good at charming female adventurers, possibly having a full romance with Aerie, the only companion able to do so. Quite the jester, Haer'Dalis is however no fool, backing down quickly at threats of violence from the evil members of the party, and notably immediately shutting down Viconia the moment he himself becomes a target of her own teases.

Companion dialogue
Aerie Quotes
Anomen Delryn Quotes
Cernd Quotes
Dorn Il-Khan Quotes
Edwin Odesseiron Quotes
Haer'Dalis Quotes
Hexxat Quotes
Imoen Quotes
Jaheira Quotes
Jan Jansen Quotes
Keldorn Firecam Quotes
Korgan Bloodaxe Quotes
Mazzy Fentan Quotes
Minsc Quotes
Nalia de'Arnise Quotes
Neera Quotes
Rasaad yn Bashir Quotes
Sarevok Anchev Quotes
Valygar Corthala Quotes
Viconia DeVir Quotes
Yoshimo Quotes


With Aerie[]

Haer'Dalis: Was I mistaken, my dove, or have I heard a thought fall from your lips once or twice that you had aspirations of the thespian bent?
Aerie: Oh... but you will surely laugh at me for such an admission.
Haer'Dalis: I never would, my mourning dove. My grim and oft-proud nature would never allow it. To act is a solemn profession and most worthy of thy beauty and grace.
Aerie: You flatter me, now, Haer'Dalis. But... yes, my mother used to tell me that I would be a fine actress. I... I used to dream of fluttering onto the great stage in Faenya-Dail...
Aerie: A useless dream now, I suppose. My mother is long behind me and likely thinks me dead.
Haer'Dalis: But your dream needn't perish, fair Aerie. I see a talent in your eye that tells this bard you could perform the great feats of stage yet.
Aerie: Oh, I doubt that, truly.
Haer'Dalis: Nay, be not so harsh on yourself, pale one. This sparrow will take you under his wing and teach you the secret words that will match the strength of your aching beauty.
Aerie: You are funny and strange, Haer'Dalis... but I thank you for the compliments nevertheless.

Later :

Haer'Dalis: I have been thinking, my mourning dove, of a role to complement your first voyage onto the stage. And I so believe I have discovered it.
Aerie: Oh? H-have you, Haer'Dalis? And to what manner of role shall I be subjected, then?
Haer'Dalis: You wound me, fair one... I have deliberated over the choice for quite some time now. I have weighed carefully each play that canters through my head and chosen one that complements you most fruitfully.
Haer'Dalis: 'Tis the lead of a Sigil play called "Tersis"... written, if I remember, by a rather haggard tiefling gifted with the madness of true talent.
Haer'Dalis: You would play the goddess herself... fallen from favor and bearing the slings of accusation and scorn with grace and confidence. With chin held high, she strides towards her former peers and dares to challenge the false verdict of the higher powers!
Aerie: That... that sounds lovely, Haer'Dalis... but it's hardly me.
Haer'Dalis: Ah, but it is, my mourning dove. You have suffered the cleansing torments, borne the impossible strains... and I'll wager there's a steel in your heart that you've yet to lay claim to!
Aerie: Oh, I don't thhink I ever could... I don't think you know me, really...
Haer'Dalis: I know you better than you think, my dove. The true thespian reaches down into a well of dark waters within them... a place where others dare not look. And you've a deep well, fair Aerie... be not afraid to dive within!
Aerie: You've a pretty way with words, bard. Well... I think I'll disappoint you surely, but if you wish to teach me your play, I won't object to it.
Haer'Dalis: That's all I ask, my dove... and this bard cannot wait to see the results of this first act now unfolding.

The act unfolding :

Haer'Dalis: You've perused the act, have you, my mourning dove? Why does your brow crinkle so, then?
Aerie: I—I've read the play, yes... but, Haer'Dalis, I still honestly don't think I can play this... Tersis character.
Haer'Dalis: And I yet hold in my surety that you can, fair Aerie. What makes you say that you cannot?
Aerie: Well, the scene where the godess confronts Lord Johvan, the ruler of the gods. She chastises him rather... forcefully...
Haer'Dalis: Aye? And..?
Aerie: *giggle* Oh, Haer'Dalis... I could never do that! The words would sound like a mouse were speaking them, coming from me. I've no such voice in me...
Haer'Dalis: The voice is in you, my dove. You have but to cast about for it. Come... enact the passage for me.
Aerie: *sigh* I... I'll try. "H-hold, my lord... I will n-not... not be judged..." No, no... It's just no use.
Haer'Dalis: Then you are a mouse, my Aerie. A frightened little mouse who refuses to come out of her hole. Be satisfied with your stale cheese, if you will.
Aerie: Haer'Dalis! What a cruel thing to say!
Haer'Dalis: Enact the passage, then. You have the ability.
Aerie: "H-hold, my lord... I w-will... n-not... not be—"
Haer'Dalis: Squeak, squeak? Is that a mouse this bard hears? You can do better than that, my dove...
Aerie: "H-hold, my lord! I will... n-not... not be... j-judged—"
Haer'Dalis: What was that? Are you speaking, my dove? I am straining to hear you...
Aerie: Then stop interrupting me!
Haer'Dalis: Then speak, woman! I am the king of the gods! Do you have something to tell me, or don't you?!
Aerie: "Hold, my lord! I will not be judged by the lowest of my brethren, nor shall I be judged by my king! I refuse to be silent! I am Tersis! And I WILL be heard!"
Haer'Dalis: Bravo, my dove! A most excellent wonder, to hear your thundering talent roll forth from such a delightful form! Bravo!
Aerie: I... I did it, didn't I? Th-thank you, Haer'Dalis! That... that felt wonderful!

Dreams of acting :

Haer'Dalis: Ah ha! What is it now, my fair Aerie? You think I am not looking at you, but I can spy your desire to put the bard to the question. Go ahead, my dove... I'll not mind.
Aerie: Well... I was only wondering... um... m-my scenes that I read to you the other day... was I... was I any good? Please, tell me truthfully.
Haer'Dalis: Truth is my mantra, fair Aerie, when it comes to matters of the stage. And, aye, you were a sight to make any man swoon, possessing a talent that many an actress I've known would envy.
Aerie: You... you aren't just saying that? I'm not that good...
Haer'Dalis: Your skill needs to be sharpened, 'tis true, but the talent is plenty and full. And I do not exaggerate, my dove... your mother saw it true when she mused o'er your life upon the stage.
Aerie: Ha... it's too bad, then, that there's nowhere to perform our piece.
Haer'Dalis: But there is, my dove! There always is! We could shout out lines from the very streets of the towns, amazing onlookers and filling them with envy!
Haer'Dalis: In the wilderness, we could draw a crowd of fearsome creatures and tame them with our entertainments! Paws and claws would clatter as they approved of our efforts, and lauded your great talent, my lady!
Haer'Dalis: Word of our acts would spread... and we would be in demand all over Amn! Bugbears would stand beside great nobles, shouting out your name and mine! The toast of kings and queens, my dove... just imagine it!
Aerie: Ha ha ha... You are a silly man, Haer'Dalis!
Haer'Dalis: Was that the twitter of amusement I heard from your lips, my mourning dove? It is good to hear you laugh.
Aerie: And it is good to laugh. Thank you, my comical bard.

At night :

Aerie: Is there a moon in Sigil?
Haer'Dalis: A moon? Why, no, there never was. Just a city that stretched in all directions, curling in upon itself to sometimes block the sky. The moon is better, don't you think, my dove?
Aerie: I have been to too many cities and... and every one of them the same. The moon is better because it's always changing.
Haer'Dalis: Ha ha! Well, Sigil is like no city you have ever seen, but, truth be told, I would trade it in a second for your smile.
Aerie: You don't have to trade a city for it... I want to smile and—and you make it so easy, Haer'Dalis.
Haer'Dalis: I am glad, my dove, but if you won't let me trade Sigil, then I would even trade the moon and all its changes! Come, the night is still young and our spirits still free to fly.

If Haer'Dalis has fatigue greater than 5 :

Haer'Dalis: My raven, my raven, we must have rest if we are to keep this flock together.
Aerie: I like how you always pretend people are birds.
Haer'Dalis: Pretend? My dear and mourning dove, 'tis not pretending! We are all frail as birds and mad as hounds, each one of us... Aye, each one of us, but you, somehow...
You fly above us all, no anger, no rage to tie you down. Aye... You're right, Aerie. You are no hound, nor shall I ever name you one. You have my pledge.
Aerie: You promise?
Haer'Dalis: Aye, I promise, dove.

Throne of Bhaal only :

Aerie: Haer'Dalis... you've been staring at our leader with that look off and on for several hours now. Don't you think that's a little rude?
Haer'Dalis: I find myself unable to tear my eyes away. In the Doomguard, we appreciate the forces of entropy that bring destruction in their wake... and with each passing day, I see a personification of that force taking shape before me!
Aerie: I know what you mean. It's a little unnerving, isn't it? I wonder how <CHARNAME> can stand it?
Haer'Dalis: Oh, no, no. That's not what I mean at all, my mourning dove. I think it is the most magnificent transformation I have ever witnessed!
Aerie: You do?
Haer'Dalis: Aye. The image of the Slayer still rings in my mind... and the thought of what <CHARNAME> could become next thrills the very essence of my being! Can you not picture it?
Aerie: Sometimes I think you are a very strange man, my bard.
Haer'Dalis: Oh, without question, my dove. Without question.

With Anomen[]

Haer'Dalis: A word, good knight Anomen... In the last battle, I noticed you pulling back and parrying... Next time you see an opening like that, my advice is to take advantage of it.
Anomen: I did, actor... So you can stop pushing your weight around and leave the fighting to those of us who can handle the front line.
Haer'Dalis: Aye, Anomen, talk as you wish. For all your swagger, you wouldn't last a day upon the planes.
Anomen: Look, harlequin, go on and tell your tales... I'm sure someone here believes them. Now get out of my sight before I skewer you and your liar's soul.

Throne of Bhaal only :

Haer'Dalis: Anomen... a moment of your time, if I may. I have been observing your... combat tactics recently, and I wish to ask you a question.
Anomen: For what do you bother me, tiefling? I need no further comments on how I may improve my fighting style from a prancer such as yourself.
Haer'Dalis: On the contrary, dear Anomen. It is your style I now most admire and wish to emulate.
Anomen: Truly? Well then... ask what you will, and I shall strive to answer as best I may. Perhaps my technique shall save your life in combat some day.
Haer'Dalis: Combat? Oh no, you misunderstand. I would use your style for my stage performances... it is far too florid and grandiose for effective use in battle. You see, even in my fanciest spins, there is always efficiency and conservation of movement... as there is in any fighting style. Except yours. Perhaps your overblown thrusts and stabs are the result of your overblown ego?
Anomen: I have better things to do than listen to your prattling!
Haer'Dalis: Very well. I shall watch you from afar, good hound, and learn what I may from mere observation.

With Cernd[]

When in a forest :

Haer'Dalis: Ah, Cernd, my rustic, wind-borne swallow! These woods have such a regal bearing, their airs so sweetly scented by the leaf's decay...
I delight so at the sparrows twittering above, and look... there passes a prancing squirrel, all delighted by the softness of our approach!
Cernd: Ha! That prancing squirrel over yonder? If you could only understand his speech, your face would flush quite red at its vulgarity.
Let us just say that he is less than pleased by the loudness of your voice and the fact that you are currently standing on his cache of nuts.
Haer'Dalis: ...Cernd, you could have explained that in a manner that would not have involved me wincing.

With Dorn[]

Haer'Dalis: And what shall I call you, my grim, grand vulture?
Dorn: My name is Dorn Il-Khan. Call me that, or "master," if you prefer.
Haer'Dalis: No, no, such a mundane appellation will not do.
Dorn: It's done me well enough till now.
Haer'Dalis: I shall call you "Dark-Edge." Much better, yes?
Dorn: If you would give me a new name, it's only fair that I do the same.
Haer'Dalis: Indeed it is, Dark-Edge. And what would you call this one?
Dorn: Instead of Haer'Dalis, I think I'll call you "Head'Less." What do you think of that?
Haer'Dalis: Dorn Il-Khan it is, then.

Throne of Bhaal only :

Haer'Dalis: You are a delight to behold, Dorn Il-Khan.
Dorn: Yes.
Haer'Dalis: No witty repartee? I had hoped to find a mind behind the monster.
Dorn: It is there, planewalker, but you want no part of it.
Haer'Dalis: Hah! I am not sure about that, my friend.
Dorn: I am not your friend.
Haer'Dalis: Then what are you?
Dorn: An ally. For now.

With Edwin[]

Edwin: Bard, my considered and correct opinion of actors is this: You are irresponsible, irrational, and incapable of adult emotion without first reducing it to some banal personal, material, or sexual credo.
I can only make it my faintest hope that this definition doesn't include you as well.
Haer'Dalis: As an actor, it is mandatory to be able to express and convey emotion, not be emotional. As for your inastute observation, a critic is a legless man who teaches running to the fleet of foot.
Edwin: At least I don't find it necessary to have others write my life for me or have its mundane plot plagiarized from common sources.
Haer'Dalis: No, but you do seem to require my validation by spouting a random insult where none was deserved. Dwell on that while we fade.

Haer'Dalis: My red-cloaked sparrowhawk, I could barely catch my sleep last night with all your arcane muttering.
Edwin: (Ah, already we have the fool convinced that you are muttering!)
Haer'Dalis: Aye, I could write a play and you would be my entire cast and extras...

If Edwin has been turned into a woman as part of his quest :

"I once knew a Red Mage of Thay
Who dreamed of lichdom some day.
He said he knew how to do it,
But he still managed to screw it
Up in the funniest way."
Edwin: (Thank the gods he is not a better poet. This is one tale we would rather not see immortalized in print!)

With Hexxat[]

Haer'Dalis: Tell me of your nest, my dark dove.
Hexxat: What would you know?
Haer'Dalis: All that there is to know. You flew here from Mezro?
Hexxat: I took a boat.
Haer'Dalis: What winds blew you here?
Hexxat: Ill winds. I prefer not to speak of them.

Throne of Bhaal only :

Haer'Dalis: Why is it you still travel with <CHARNAME>, my ebon dove?
Hexxat: <CHARNAME> is helping me complete a task. You know this.
Haer'Dalis: A task you could complete on your own, I would imagine.
Hexxat: Perhaps, perhaps not. In my experience, one can never have too many friends.
Haer'Dalis: Why are you here, truly, Hexxat? What part of the story have you left untold?
Hexxat: I am an open book, Haer'Dalis, to anyone with the eyes to see.

With Imoen[]

Throne of Bhaal only, if Haer'Dalis isn't in a romance :

Haer'Dalis: Ahh, Imoen, my wildflower. Have I ever told you that you've a most natural grace and innocent beauty about you? 'Tis something any man would find most charming.
Imoen: Hee hee. Yeah, okay, whatever. I don't know about my grace, but I'm not all that innocent, Haer'Dalis. I can smell a cheesy come-on from a mile away.
Haer'Dalis: 'Twas not meant as such. I've no intention of offending you.
Imoen: Uh-huh.
Haer'Dalis: 'Tis only that I see you in an unguarded moment at times... and I see the ache in your heart reflected in your eyes. It saddens this sparrow to know there is no one to hold you close, Imoen.
Imoen: I...
Haer'Dalis: But no doubt I overstep my bounds by saying so. It has only ever been my hope that you might one day give me the chance to be the one that comforts you. It would be an honor, my wildflower.
Imoen: Whew. Gosh, you're good.
Haer'Dalis: Yes, I know. 'Tis an art form that has served this sparrow well at times.
Imoen: Write a book. I'll buy it.

With Jaheira[]

Haer'Dalis: Why do you stare at me so, Jaheira? Have I offended you? My manner is oft grim, but I did not think you so sensitive to it.
Jaheira: No, no, I find your wit a treat, especially when it is unleashed upon the hapless that did not see it laying in wait.
Haer'Dalis: Then why the glances as my head turns away?
Jaheira: Forgive me the curiosity, but you are quite alien to me. You are not of this place and do not fit into the natural order, at least not by design.
Haer'Dalis: Ahh, then you are wary and are intent on keeping me under guard?
Jaheira: Not so much, but I am interested to see where your niche finds itself. I am wondering what you will balance, for all things have their counterpart.
Haer'Dalis: I see. Perhaps I straddle the fence, providing my own balance. Perhaps I drop things on either side as whim dost take me.
Jaheira: Or perhaps you enjoy the discord of chaos because you have not found that niche yet. We shall see.

When in Waukeen's Promenade or Trademeet :

Haer'Dalis: Ah, my hound, this city be the great world of commerce! Perhaps we can sell Jaheira?
Jaheira: *groan* Cut your wit, bard. The day has been long already without adding hours to it.
Haer'Dalis: Cut my wit? Why, certainly, if I could only use your nose's razor edge to perform the task.
Jaheira: Aye, it seems I've sharpened it upon the grindstone of your heart.
Haer'Dalis: Well, my frumpy ptarmigan, I must protest—
Jaheira: "Methinks thou dost protest too much." Aye, I can quote the poets too. If you must protest, I respond only to hunger strikes and, even then, too late.
Haer'Dalis: Oh, <CHARNAME>, raven of sympathy! Yon woman is stifling my creativity and stealing thunder from my wit! I swear I cannot work amidst the lashings of her tongue!

With Jan[]

Jan: Haery, I have an idea for a play.
Haer'Dalis: Please, Jan, my name is Haer'Dalis.
Jan: You see, Haery, Angus the Giant Beaver is ousted from house and home by the Bullywug bullies to embark on an epic quest that takes him to the next pond.
Haer'Dalis: Yes, epic. Go on.
Jan: No, no, no, this is only the beginning. Along the way, he encounters Gurgen the Hormonal Moose, and a friendship quickly develops between the two, seeing them through times of great trial and tribulation, though the friendship also caused a great deal of trial and tribulation, as you can well imagine.
Haer'Dalis: What, if I may ask, is a moose?
Jan: Too late, I'm already on to great trials and tribulations—think of it, Haery, such broad and vital themes. Anyhow, the moose catches a curious and ultimately fatal disease, and Angus, as a final testament to their friendship, enshrines him within a wooden tomb in the middle of the lake before throwing himself in the lake to drown.
Haer'Dalis: Jan, beavers can't drown. They spend half of their life underwater.
Jan: There's no point in arguing, Haery. It's a true tale, and if you have any doubt, you can ask my great-aunt Apo Pettiwick, who never married. It all happened in her backyard when she ran the farmer's market that sold turnips up in Thundertree, just upstream of Neverwinter.
Haer'Dalis: Pray I never go there, Jan. Pray I never go there.

Throne of Bhaal only :

Jan: Haery, could I draw upon your bardic prowess to help me with a little poem I'm working on? It's a tribute to our fearless leader.
Haer'Dalis: I truly wish you would call me by my proper name, Jan. But I shall be happy to collaborate with you on such an epic subject.
Jan: Great, Haery. I knew I could count on you. I'm off to a pretty good start, but I need rhymes for "purple," "orange," and "silver."
Haer'Dalis: Ah well... perhaps you are focusing too much on colors, Jan. Mayhaps we could take this ballad in a different direction.
Jan: Okay, I'll work on that stanza myself. Maybe you can help me with the next verse. What's a good rhyme for "bucket"?
Haer'Dalis: One does spring readily to mind... Listen, my would-be sparrow, I do not mean to give offense, but perhaps you could let me work with the composition and add my own brand of subtle wit to the mix.
Jan: Ah, Haery, let's just forget about it. I was born a storyteller, and a storyteller I'll remain until the day I die. I'm no poet, and I never will be.
Haer'Dalis: Normally, I would encourage an artist such as yourself to branch out, but in this case, abandoning the genre may be for the best.

With Keldorn[]

Haer'Dalis: Keldorn, my faithful hound... how is it that you came to be a paladin, anyhow?
Keldorn: I must say, it was only practical. My mother was of noble birth and my father a ranking cleric. I might have followed in his pages, but it lacked the appeal of holy warrior.
Haer'Dalis: Ah, the old codger's tale be true, then: "What is bred in the bone shall out in the flesh."
You charge ahead, of valor born, the best of your parental blood commingled here within you, their very destinies made true by your every righteous act!
Alas, where be an inkwell and some papyrus when I need it?
Keldorn: Ho, Haer'Dalis, your poetry ennobles me far beyond my worth. I am a simple man, and by simple decisions, I have made my way about this earth.
If you wouldst write of me, write of me as I would wish to be remembered.
Haer'Dalis: Aye, but then where would go the poetry, good knight? Heh... but come, <CHARNAME> seems impatient with our chatter. Let us put it off, then.

Keldorn: I must say, ye bard, that I find the use of your musical abilities during combat to be most effective. Play on, I say!
Haer'Dalis: Aye, and ye can stride into the forefront, ye hound. I'll just hang around in the back awhile, truly enough.
Keldorn: I hardly thought I'd see you timid, Haer'Dalis.
Haer'Dalis: More bored than timid, Lord Keldorn. With your blade a'glittering in the sun like that, you leave few foes for me to challenge.
Keldorn: Nay, good man, they flee not from the brightness of my sword but from the sheer wretchedness of your playing!
Haer'Dalis: Ha! 'Twill be music to my ears to wrap this lute about your head someday, my aging hound. Now go out there with your blade once again and make yourself useful, aye?

Throne of Bhaal only :

Haer'Dalis: My great and noble hound, I sense your spirit is heavy. What troubles the mighty paladin?
Keldorn: Your observation is most astute, my good bard. I am indeed troubled by our current course.
Haer'Dalis: But shall your shining example not guide us down the proper path, Sir Keldorn?
Keldorn: I am not the leader of this group... though even if I were, I do not know if it would make a difference. No matter what path <CHARNAME> chooses, I fear it will be a journey awash in blood.
Haer'Dalis: Aye, we are but mere players in this tragedy, reading our lines from a grim and heavy script. Though I myself still hold out hope for a happy ending.
Keldorn: As do I. But life does not always imitate art, and I fear this may be one of those times. Speak of this no further... I do not want to upset the others.

With Korgan[]

Korgan: There not be enough critters in all the world to stain me axe nearly enough. I've killed aplenty already, an' I yearn yet for more. Come, then, and face this dwarf! Aye, come!
Haer'Dalis: My hound, my hound, my dog of war, do not invite death to come knocking at your door. I am sure there be plenty of diversions awaiting your keen edge anon.
Korgan: If there be more of ye out skulking in the shadows, then show yerselves! I have to have some fun... I cannae go about tough and unfeeling all the time!
Haer'Dalis: You do have a certain invective creativity, Korgan. Now, if only you could direct that skill for invention into something more cerebral, less bravado.
Korgan: Cease yer jabber, fool! Blasted actors! Even nae a script or play and still ye need to be the center of all! Strewth!

Korgan: Balderdash, imbecile! I've more than a fair mind to tear ye a new dirtchute, ye lying swindler! Faerûn would be none the poorer, with ye pushing up daisies.
Ye'd be wise to skulk about in the shadows and pick yer dainty locks, else yer time be up. Hear me, scoundrel?
Haer'Dalis: I hear you plain enough, dwarf. I seek no quarrel with your prowess.
Korgan: So the snakebelly ain't as dumb as he looks. There's a lad.

With Mazzy[]

Haer'Dalis: Mazzy, Mazzy, Mazzy. All the ferocity of Cattie-Brie in a package half her size! ...You would have made a fine and noble knight, my little falcon.
Mazzy: And I shall, Haer'Dalis. I shall.
Haer'Dalis: Aye, falcon... Aye, I believe it.

Throne of Bhaal only :

Mazzy: Haer'Dalis, why are you constantly staring at me? Do you see something strange?
Haer'Dalis: Not strange, my tiny hawk... amazing. A great actor may play a giant, and though he stands no taller, he seems to tower over his fellows on the stage.
Mazzy: Are you saying I look... taller?
Haer'Dalis: Not in the physical sense. But recently, when I look at you, I see not only a valiant halfling, but also a warrior-giantess of virtue striding the earth.
Mazzy: Then I shall thank you for the compliment... though I still think it rude to stare.

With Minsc[]

Haer'Dalis: A question, my hound and hamster... why is it that you come into such rage when we fight? 'Tis as if all the furies of the planes were all at once let loose within your veins!
Minsc: Boo says fight hard, so I fight hard.
Haer'Dalis: Ah, Boo says that, does he?
Minsc: Space hamsters are never wrong!

Throne of Bhaal only :

Minsc: Haer'Dalis, are you laughing at Boo and I? You are smiling after many of our battles.
Haer'Dalis: *chuckle* Oh, my dear Minsc, you and Boo are wonderful, make no mistake. So chaotic, so unpredictable. Such a fist in the eye of sense and reason.
Minsc: Uh... but mostly evil, right?
Haer'Dalis: HA! Yes, Minsc, mostly a fist in the eyes of evil. Do not let me change a thing you do.
Minsc: Boo, I think this bard is a little off in the head, no?

With Nalia[]

When in a city :

Nalia: I can't stand seeing all these taverns around the city. They exist simply to drain the poorer classes of their money and throw them into such a stupor that they can't even realize their oppression.
Haer'Dalis: Aye, my darling loon, drink is to the poor what theater is to the rich: a costly chance to play out fantasies that never shall come true.
Nalia: Don't patronize me, Haer'Dalis, for I have never done the same to you.
Haer'Dalis: Ha, my dear, 'tis true, for had your family patronized me while I was still with the theater, I would be far wealthier than I am today!

Throne of Bhaal only :

Nalia: Haer'Dalis, you are a playwright... maybe you can answer something for me.
Haer'Dalis: Ask, my pretty lark, and I shall do my best to satisfy your burning curiosity.
Nalia: Why is it that so many of the great tragedies have royalty as their central characters, but the great comedies focus on the common people?
Haer'Dalis: Ah, that is truly a question for the ages and the sages. Perhaps tragedy is the noblest of dramatic forms, and as such demands a noble subject?
Nalia: Maybe it's because most playwrights are common folk, at least in the class structure sense. Maybe they resent the abuses of the rich and powerful and see their art as a way to symbolically destroy the upper class.
Haer'Dalis: Your explanation lacks the soaring wings of poetry, Nalia, dear. It is far too rooted in the troubles of the real world. The stage is our escape from mundane life.
Nalia: But shouldn't art be more than an escape? Can it not also be an instrument of social and political change? Isn't that more valuable than mere escapism?
Haer'Dalis: Nalia, escapism has its place—as does dramatic social commentary. But attempting to determine their relative worth is an argument that will last far beyond our own lifetimes.
Nalia: True enough, I suppose. Very well, we shall leave this conversation for now. Just as well... we are lagging behind the others.

With Neera[]

Haer'Dalis: I have been watching you for some time, wild mage, and I am still unsure what to call you.
Neera: Why not go with Neera? That's what most people call me. Names are pretty handy that way.
Haer'Dalis: You twitter like a sparrow, but your heart—is it a raven's or a dove's?
Neera: Pretty sure it's a half-elf's, but to be fair, I haven't checked.
Haer'Dalis: That is not what I meant, but you know this, yes? Perhaps I should call you "duck" for the way my meanings roll off your back.

When in the Bridge District :

Haer'Dalis: Ah, duck! Have you peered over the side of this mighty bridge? The water below will empty into the sea soon. Do you long to glide along those waters and let the current take you where it will?
Neera: Yes, Haer'Dalis. I'd also like to catch some fish in my bright yellow bill.
Haer'Dalis: Do not laugh! Did I not succeed in naming your heart's fondest desire, sweet, foolish duck? To glide on the waters, lazy in the sun?
Neera: That doesn't sound too bad. It must be quite the life: food swimming around below you, a sky all yours above you, sitting still and moving along all at once.
I don't know, though. I imagine it could get very dull.
Haer'Dalis: But you forget about the sea, my duck. If you rode the river long enough, you would find yourself there, and then—! Then there would be waves, and storms, and deep, deep waters, with fish both friendly and fierce.
Neera: Ducks don't usually get that far, do they?
Haer'Dalis: No. But you are no ordinary duck, are you?
Neera: I suppose I'm not.
Haer'Dalis: Yes?
Neera: I like it. I like "duck."

Throne of Bhaal only :

Neera: Haer'Dalis, remember that time I lent you my comb?
Haer'Dalis: Such an experience is... not easily forgotten.
Neera: Well, it's time for payback.
Haer'Dalis: And what would you have of me, my duck? A night under the stars? A taste of what lies beyond this mortal plane?
Neera: Eww! No. Gods, no. Is that all you ever think about? Ewwwwww. Ew, ew, ewwww.
I was going to ask for a song, but you know what? I think I'm okay. I'll just stand over there, crying on the inside.

With Rasaad[]

Haer'Dalis: And how does this <DAY/NIGHT> find you, my owl?
Rasaad: You call me owl, Haer'Dalis? It does not fit. I rather think I am crow, or a vulture.
Haer'Dalis: My owl sees all—all but himself.
Rasaad: I see myself all too well.
Haer'Dalis: You see only your darkness, which is understandable enough. But do not forget, there is light within you.
Rasaad: If there is, I see it not.
Haer'Dalis: It is there. Open your eyes and it will blind you.

Throne of Bhaal only :

Haer'Dalis: Yours is a story as old as time, but still as enthralling as the first time it was told.
Rasaad: I am fairly sure my story is mine and mine alone. How could you have heard of it before?
Haer'Dalis: The narrative shares many similarities with great plays and poems from times past. A stalwart soldier of light, his beliefs thrown into question by forces beyond his control, seeking revenge against those forces in an attempt to right that which was wronged. Classic.
Rasaad: I see. And how do these other stories end?
Haer'Dalis: The endings are many and varied, Rasaad, but all share one element.
Rasaad: Which is?
Haer'Dalis: Tragedy.

With Sarevok[]

Sarevok: Your sideways glances begin to annoy me, bard. Say your piece or drag your eyes elsewhere!
Haer'Dalis: Forgive this sparrow's curiosity, my fierce hound, but my eyes are drawn of their own accord. You have walked where every mortal must eventually go, though precious few return as you have.
Sarevok: And what of it? Do you think I learned some great secret there? The meaning of life, perhaps? Or some similar foolish notion?
Haer'Dalis: Nay, I am far too busy living life to wonder at its meaning. But perchance you could share your experiences with me... it could make a most fascinating dramatic work.
Sarevok: My experiences? Suffering, tiefling... suffering you cannot fathom. Each level of pain worse than the first, each layer of torment bringing new tortures.
Haer'Dalis: Such passion in your suffering! Imagine a story in which you take me, the author, on a journey through these levels of the Abyss... it is the stuff of a literary masterpiece! Tell me more, Sarevok!
Sarevok: Beneath the suffering is a constant fire. An incessant, horrible burning—the rage and fury of Bhaal searing my immortal soul. No! I will not relive the agony of that inferno for your amusement!
Haer'Dalis: Ah, your decision is a great loss to literature. Should you change your mind, my armor-plated hawk, come and find me. I already have the perfect title for the work: Dalis's Inferno.

With Valygar[]

Haer'Dalis: So this ancestor of yours, Lavok, he created such beasts as ghouls and skeletons and other wakened dead of that ilk?
Valygar: I did say he was a necromancer, didn't I? As I understand it, Lavok felt that tampering with the veil that separates life from death was his prerogative.
Haer'Dalis: I see. I imagine that your family must have been exposed to many such things over their time.
Valygar: The old family was, yes. They continued to practice Lavok's magics long after he left, but my particular branch was not interested in such pursuits.
They left in disgust, watching from afar as the old family crumbled over the years. And then my family inherited what little of Lavok's fortune was left.
That fortune... brought us no end of grief, however. My family eventually took up his pastime as well, to my sorrow.
I have no greater wish than to see such magic wiped from Faerûn. What's dead is dead, and that should be the end! Tampering with life goes against all reason!
Haer'Dalis: Aye, hawk, aye. A truth's been spoken, and it's been spoken from your tongue.

Haer'Dalis: Tell me, Valygar, your family was once rich and powerful, yes?
Valygar: Yes... what is your point?
Haer'Dalis: I simply am interested in the story of how they have fallen so far. Decayed, as it were, over the years until you are the last member of a small and decrepit estate.
Valygar: My family lost its wealth long before I inherited anything of it. And none of it interests me anyway. I'd much rather spend my time in the wild.
Haer'Dalis: And so the family will end completely, then. How very right and natural that is, a cycle having come to completion. Hmm. Yes.
Valygar: I'm glad it amuses you. I myself have had to live through my family's decline, and I would rather not discuss it as if it were some point of philosophy.
Haer'Dalis: Perhaps I could ask you more about it? It would make a wonderful story, I think.
Valygar: Mind your own business.

Throne of Bhaal only :

Valygar: Haer'Dalis! Must you insist on plucking away at that blasted instrument?
Haer'Dalis: I must keep it in tune, good sir, lest I strike a sour note with my listeners.
Valygar: Every time you open your mouth, you strike a sour note with me, bard.
Haer'Dalis: A thrust of wit from the dark hawk's rapier! I had not thought it in you, dear Valygar. Have you been practicing your verbal exchanges with the trees? Alas, they do not strike back.
Valygar: Cease your barking, bard, and leave me alone.
Haer'Dalis: "Bark"? "Leave"? Yet more jests, building on my tree remark? Or just lucky puns, like wisdom tumbling from the lips of a fool?
Valygar: It took you long enough to grasp the root of my remarks.
Haer'Dalis: Oh mercy, great punsman, I beg thee! Your life of solitude has done nothing to dull the stinging points of your stabbing words. I shall retire to a safe distance and resume my plucking beyond your earshot.
Valygar: Thank you, Haer'Dalis. That is all I asked in the first place.

With Viconia[]

Haer'Dalis: I watch you, blackbird. I watch you, and 'tis as if you are a dancer pinned between two panes of glass called Bliss and Rage.
Viconia: If I am a dancer, then I dance for Shar. Take your leering eyes and turn them elsewhere, planesman.
Haer'Dalis: And as for being pinned between those panes of glass?
Viconia: I have loyalties that bind me, yes... Do not make bravery your downfall, male. Return to your world above: These depths are not for you. Izil phor, ji harl.

Viconia: Haer'Dalis, I blame you for this damnably hummable song playing again and again in my head, over and over. You are really quite a marvelous tunesmith, not to mention a clever mimic and talented mime.
Have you any new and lewd burlesque tunes that you might regale me with, musician?
Haer'Dalis: Viconia, do you truly think that because you are bewitching in appearance and have the throaty voice of the most expensive courtesan in King Wingding's House of Earthly delights...
...and a body built for untold pleasures that I would fall for such an old ploy? Blow a little sunshine and I will fall all over myself to gain your favor? Best think again, dark one.
Viconia: Men better than you have walked across lava to kiss a dog who's licked my hand, actor.
You're a dreamer, bard. I'm sure you can imagine lots of wonderful scenes... but they would not exceed the truth in intensity, depravity, or tenure, I assure you.
Haer'Dalis: Ah... er... pardon me for a moment whilst my head implodes.

Throne of Bhaal only :

Viconia: I feel your eyes roving over me, tiefling. Do you see something you desire?
Haer'Dalis: Ah, Viconia, my dusky jewel... I was merely admiring your natural grace, your striking beauty, and your exotic voice. You could surely have made a fine career on the stage.
Viconia: No doubt, my smooth-tongued bard. Yet I chose to put my talents to a greater purpose.
Haer'Dalis: What greater purpose could there be? 'Tis truly noble to court the approval of the audience.
Viconia: In drow society, we have no use for the theater. We act and dissemble to advance our station. An unconvincing performance ends not with boos and catcalls, but with slow and painful death.
Haer'Dalis: No use for theater? Please excuse this wounded sparrow's flight, but I must retreat beneath the onslaught of pain such a harsh and unimaginable world brings to my heart.

With Yoshimo[]

Yoshimo: Haer'Dalis, a ronin, a rogue. You have more freedom than most, and yet you remain as grumpy as a flea-bitten dog. Why so glum?
Haer'Dalis: Dogs, is it? A fitting cloak for a bloodhound. You've got the scent now, Yoshimo, and shall bring the prey to your mysterious master.
Yoshimo: No master have I, save my own conscience. I merely wish to know why life is such a burden to you.
Haer'Dalis: Shackles as heavy as yours cannot be hidden from one who has been a slave. I tire of this dreadful acting. Leave me be, Yoshimo.

When in a city :

Yoshimo: Haer'Dalis, Haer'Dalis! You think too much and smile too little. Come, my bullywug! Come, my puss 'n boots! We are in Athkatla, the city of a million smiling faces!
Haer'Dalis: Aye, parrot, aye... 'Tis because they're all trying to sell me something!
Yoshimo: I have seen your fingers, and they are as fast as your tongue! What you don't want to buy, you can always steal!
Haer'Dalis: And what you don't want to steal? ...I trust not your boundless glee, my parrot, for something in it jingles with the sound of silver.
Yoshimo: Silver? Or gold? We pluck it from every corpse we find and steal it from every chest that we encounter!
You are right, bard, I am twice rewarded: Once because I am richer in <CHARNAME>'s care, and twice because I am richer here than rotting in some prison of the damned.
Haer'Dalis: Aye, you are twice rewarded, but you have no more been a prisoner than I have been a king... Consider yourself forewarned, thief. My trust does not come easy, and you have not won it yet.