Maximillian of Northshire yells: Dragon! Hear me out! I am Maximillian of Northshire, and I have come to deliver you. Your blood shall fill...

Maximillian of Northshire yells: For Doloria!

Maximillian of Northshire yells: Great Uther's ghost, it's chasing after us! Squire, do something! Throw rocks at it! I have no plan!

Maximillian of Northshire yells: Now, cry not, as you fall not to your death, but into the waiting arms of my squire! Off you go now!

Maximillian of Northshire says: Curiously the bird does not become flame and ash. A phoenix that does not become flame and ash 'pon its slaying is a dire omen indeed.

Maximillian of Northshire says: I fear I must now depart you and your ex-phoenix. Light be with you!

Maximillian of Northshire says: I see the dragon up ahead. She is larger than I had first anticipated.

Maximillian of Northshire says: It appears that adventure has made itself apparent. Look, for as yonder maiden treads innocently through the jungle, a hatchling phoenix stalks her as its prey!

Maximillian of Northshire says: Maiden: if your curiosity gnaws at you, then you may know your salvation was delivered by Maximillian of Northshire.

Maximillian of Northshire says: Perhaps you should try hurling them at the nearby dragons to practice your throwing arm.

Maximillian of Northshire says: Watch as the accursed bird becomes flame and ash as soon as it is slayed.

Maximillian of Northshire says: We sally forth in search of the dragons' despicable broodmother. Follow me, squire!

Maximillian of Northshire says: What luck! Pimento's hooves have kicked up some stones that we may use against the mighty dragons. Oh glorious day!

Maximillian of Northshire says: You should try using my stallion's stomp ability. Her powerful hooves will cleave the ground itself, stunning any nearby dragons.

Maximillian of Northshire whispers: I have managed to remove my gloves. You may lob them at our foe.

Maximillian of Northshire whispers: That shield-toss worked remarkably well. Quickly, hurl my holy shoulder-plate!

Maximillian of Northshire whispers: The ironclad heel of my armored boot should prove to be quite destructive.