"But that's the problem with Undermountain. It's a whole lot easier to get in than it is to get out, as you're bound to discover yourself."

Corin eyed the others speculatively. "You know, I'm beginning to get the distinct impression that neither of you likes me very much."
"Wherever would you get such an idea?" Artek replied facetiously.
"Oh I don't know," Corin mused. "I suppose it's all this talk about wanting to kill me. One might construe that as an indication of dislike."

"Very well," Corin agreed weakly. "But if any more corpses pop out of coffins, we're leaving."

"That was fun!" Muragh giggled. "I like being a prophet of Malar." 
"You're going to be a snack of Malar if we don't get out of here," Beckla said breathlessly.
"May I suggest that we run for it?" Guss proposed.

"Really, Artek," the skull grumbled. "Why don't you clean the orc cheese out of your ears? I'm getting tired of repeating myself."

"What?" the old man interrupted. "You're still here?" He blew a snort of disgust through his ratty mustache. "I must have forgotten to oil the trigger on the boulder over the door as well. Well, if you're not going to have the decency to die, at least stop being such a nuisance with all your chatter."

On reflection, Jehan Wands realized why most adventures begin in taverns. It takes a combination of noise, bustle, the late hour, wrong-headed opinions, and ale, all in specific amounts, to convince otherwise rational people to stupid things like go on quests and slay dragons. And only a tavern could bring all this together in one spot.

One thing Sunbright knew about heroes: they were simple. Leaving mysteries to others, they made decisions, then acted on them. They never waffled or backed down
Of course, often they died.

"Explore your mind," Catti-brie said to him, and then she added under her breath, so that only Drizzt and Deudermont could hear, "Better take a big lantern and a dwarf's cave pack."

"I'd be mean too, if I was that ugly," Bruenor remarked, moving close to Drizzt so they could calculate their next move.
"You are," Regis said from his prone position.

The taers were out of iceballs then, and on they came, fearlessly, brandishing clubs and howling like the north wind.
"There's only a hunnerd o' the durned things!" Bruenor blustered, hoisting his axe.
"An four of us!" yelled Catti-brie.

"A desperate chance," Drizzt remarked
"Yeah," Bruenor agreed dryly. "Not like walking into the middle of a tanar'ri horde."