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Message: <blockquote data-quote="larryfinnjr" data-source="post: 5610066" data-attributes="member: 99210">Cinara "I'm no priest of death, yet here I am, twice in the same day, called to pray over the remains of the fallen," Cinara whispers to herself. And aloud, "What is it you wish of me, of us, Dwarf-Father!? We are not heros, not great paragons of our kind! We merely wish to bring some much needed pride to our caste. And what have we become of it? Two of our band have fallen as you have watched on!!" Cinara's forgeborn flesh flares with waves of energy, courscating from red fire to blue ice. "Should we return home? Is that your message? Are we to abandon a foolish quest and submit to our place and standing? Or are we to push forward and bring some meaning to Thorgrim's and Lenoard's sacrifice? What do you want!?!?" Cinara falls to her knees, torn between anger, sadness, and confusion. She looks over to Len's broken body, and, instinctively, begins a dwarven chant, deep and melodious. Her eyes half-closed, she gently rocks on her haunches, honoring the Apricot lineage as far as she and her order know it back through time. She ends with a phrase known to all dwarves: "From the stone we were born, and to the stone we will return." And finally, placing two small round rocks on his eyes, "Goodbye, Len."  To the others, "A pyre. Help me collect these verflixt ogres and we will bring them to the spider cave. They will burn, we will place Lenonard's body upon a bier, and they shall bear him to the Great Forge. Come."</blockquote>

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