Quentan followed the old priest along the graveled path, taking in the surroundings with the kind of curiosity that a dwarf might have for the way humans deal with their dead... at least they put them into the hands of the hearth and not simply toss them into a swamp or something. All good people should rest in the arms of Mother Earth, as is the proper thing any dwarf would agree... except for Dwarves give their dead back to the stones, as is much more preferable.<br/><br/>Once the casket is lowered, the dwarf stands at the grave side, looking down at the box that held the remains of his menter and friend. "Tis a gud man deservin' o' all th' thin's a gud man has earn'd hisself 'n th' afterlife. Torag hisself would, tis surin' o' me conviction's, wud tells 'em all fer meself." He lowered his head, the rings in his hair and beard tlingling against each other in the process. "Dwarf Father. Meslef beseaches ye ta take in yer hands ah gud'n who's been me friend an' sets me feet upon yer glorious path. Meself beseaches yeself ta guide an' protect such ah man unto his just an' rightful rewards in th' life hereaft'r. Tis me final pray'r ta yeself ta bless this man o' learnin' an' generosity o' spirit fer th' thin's he's done. Thank ye mighty Torag an' ye will be done."<br/><br/>He stepped back to allow another to speak, if anyone wished to do so.