Oghren: Yep. Give it a good shine with a dry rag. Then with a little grease
Alistair: That's disgusting!
Oghren: You're telling me you never gave your blade the 'ol spit shine?
Alistair: I think that's private
Oghren: Sodding Chantry and its rules. I like to do it right out in the open
Alistair: Where people can SEE you?
Alistair: Wait... What are you talking about?
Oghren: What are YOU talking about?
Wynne: Why do you occasionally refer to Alistair as "a little pike twirler"?
Oghren: Why? Has the little pike twirler taken offense?
Wynne: It's just a curious description.
Oghren: Curious? Heh, nah it's entirely true. What, you haven't seen him twirling his pike? Goes at it when he thinks no ones watching, knocks about in the trees like there's no tomorrow. Caught him just the other day, blushed all the way down to his navel, then couldn't find his shirt. I swear he's gonna hurt himself one of these days, the way he works that thing.
Wynne: I don't want to hear this anymore do I?
Oghren: I keep telling him pike's are for sticking things at long range, aye? Horses and such. Not for twirling like a sissy girl.
Wynne: Wait, you're talking about an actual pike? Like a spear?
Oghren: Obviously. What else would I be talking about?
Anders: You don’t actually think your jokes are funny, do you?
Oghren: Could have sworn that fly was buzzing again.
Anders: “HAR! Let me tell you about my life in one word!” (Belches)
Oghren: “Oh no! Don’t take me back to the tower! I’m far, far too delicate!”
Anders: “I’m not only a dwarf, I’m a moron! Listen to me fart!”
Oghren: “Oh no, big templar man! What are you going to do with that sword?”
Oghren: Don’t play with fire unless you want to get burned, son.
Anders: You’re quite the dirty little dwarf, aren’t you?
Oghren: And you’re quite the dirty little mage.
Anders: I do my best. Still, I’m no ale-swilling mountain of belches like you!
Oghren: And I’m no winking, slack-jawed coward like you.
Anders: True! We should form a club!
Anders: What, what?
Oghren: You were staring at me, you manskirt-wearing freak.
Anders: Oh, I thought you were being attacked by a wild animal. But it was only your beard.
Oghren: You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Sparkle-fingers!
Oghren: So… mage, huh? What’s it like?
Anders: To have all this power at my fingertips?
Oghren: No. To always have to wear a skirt? (Laughs)
Anders: Oh, you don’t know the story behind the robes? You know how strict things are in the Circle, right? Of course you do. Well, the robes make quick trysts in the corner easy. No laces or buttons. You’re done before the templars catch on.