“Well, he was a barbarian warlord,” Teal said. “What else would he like? We could leave some coins?” “Hmph. Simple things, practical things. Food, drink, loot and girls. Oh,” she said, grinning suddenly. “Maybe I could strip down, lie on his tomb and jill myself off a couple times. Bet he’d get a kick out of that.”

The elf’s roundabout explanation—or what was apparently meant to be an explanation—made her brain feel the way her stomach did when she tried to digest richer food than she was used to eating.

“But there is clearly a customary way to do it. There are no meaningless rituals, no matter how small; from such things is culture built.”

“What have I told you, Alaric?!” she shouted. “How many times? If you hear knocking and screaming in here, I am either amidst a delicate experiment or masturbating and your assistance IS NOT REQUIRED.”

— The Gods are Bastards by D. D. Webb