A little ceremony for the High Court coronation. Hope you like it! Thank you, Glomdoring, for indulging us. :)

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(Glomdoring): You say, "The coronation of Eliron Shee-Slaugh will commence now at the Ethereal Master. It would honour my House if you attended, in silent reverance for the occasion."

The resonating centre of Glomdoring's black heart.
A rainstorm rages in the skies above with full force. The Master Ravenwood Tree towers over everything here, pulsing with an immeasurable yet dark power. Settled within the branches of an ancient and skeletal tree roosts a murder of crows, their voices harsh and deafening as their caws peal through the air. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air. There are 7 dark nighthags here. Firmly set into the ground, a pulsating branch of the Master Ravenwood has been set here. There are 7 illithoid scourges here. There are 7 shadowlord widowriders here. A blackthorn sapling clings tenaciously to the ground here. Radiating with the power of the wyrd, the very presence of this champion darkens the room. A young pony with a silky tail stands here quietly. Bloodsworn, Calesta Ysav'rai is here. He wields a mystic cudgel in his left hand and a wyrden shield with the image of a drum in his right. Spinner Naia is here, shrouded. She wields an athame dagger in her left hand and a silver-edged kite shield in her right. Tacita Ysav'rai, Song of the Wyrd floats here, enchanting notes weaving ceaselessly about her form. She wields a miniature ravenwood viola in her left hand and the Baton of the Dark Heart in her right.
You see exits leading south and up.

Eliron bows respectfully to you.

Kaba kneels onto one knee, demonstrating his humility and respect.

Alacardael inclines his head politely to those around him.

As the sun passes below the horizon's edge, Mother Night unveils her terrible, shadowy beauty, spreading darkness across the land.

His voice a solemn grace, Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows says, "We gather to honour the might of the Shee-Slaugh Court."

Tacita flaps her wings quickly and begins to hover in the air.

Druken inclines his head in greeting and allows his gaze to fall upon the gathering.

With a glacial elegance, Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows says to Eliron, "Eliron Shee-Slaugh, my chosen one, your heart beats in time with my heart. Your blood thrums with the grace of the Night that you love."

The screeching of a crow echoes through the dark woods, sounding almost like harsh laughter.

Lord Eliron Shee-Slaugh, Maestro of the Lament bows his head, a faint smile on his lips.

(I left this in because lol)
(*): Eliron says, "Only Dru recites declarations of love in the most frigid tones possible.
"

His tone a simple frost, Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows says to Eliron, "You are the Maestro of the Harbingers and a strength within our forest. Kneel now so that you can be recognized as another power."

Eliron kneels onto one knee, demonstrating his humility and respect.

Druken lifts the Crown of the Shee-Slaugh House high above Eliron's head, allowing the garnets and the amethysts to flare to life in the Full Moon's light.

Prince Alacardael Nightshade, Conduit of Darkness raises his hand then lowers it slowly. A canopy of shadows forms overhead, diverting the onslaught of the rainstorm.

Druken drops a shadow cauldron.

Druken closes his eyes and holds both hands above the cauldron. For several moments, he stands before you, silent and poised.

Druken drops the crown with intention etched within his cold, violet eyes. As the
crown falls toward the cauldron, the shadows within it writhe and seethe with hunger. Moments later, Druken dips his hands into the cauldron and retrieves the now-glittering crown and holds it above Eliron's head once more.

Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows intones, "Hail Night, Mother of Darkness. Attend to us in this, our hour of need. Guide us down the trifold path, and grant us strength in your shadowy embrace. May Sun never find us unawares and Moon ever hide from Your Might."

With a wintry countenance, Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows says, "Eliron Shee-Slaugh, guardian of the throne, hear the three aspects of our grace."

Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows intones, "The brooding of the shadows will ever turn aside the blade of the wrathful. Ever will the vengeance formed of careful thought and darkness bring vengeance while they sleep. The wrath of the blade is short and unfulfilling, the vengeance of the shadows mars the very soul."

His cold, violet eyes churning with the power of Nocht, Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows says, "Know vengeance, Eliron, for the Creator Who abandoned us and for the Maeve who has forsaken us."

Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows intones, "The shadows of Mother Night are an ever-shifting being. They evolve and reshape with the movement of Father Sun and Mother Night, adapting to their new environment. Adaptation is the
tool of the strong."

The shadows that surround him beginning to pulse with a slow rhythm, Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows says to Eliron, "Know adaptation, Eliron, for the severity of the world in which we lead requires grace and poise, power and control, and determination in all of these things."

Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows intones, "There is a balance of Night and day. Biding Her time, Mother Night waits for Her turn to rule. Utmost patience is an exercised trait."

With a glacial authority, Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows says to Eliron, "In all things, keep patience in your heart. The Slaugh waited centuries to be released, and it is from this patience that we rose to power as the rightful

Lifting the crown high, Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows says, "May the blessings of the Night guide you, Lord of the Shee-Slaugh, as I confer upon you, by my power as the Prince of the Shee-Slaugh House, an heirloom of our grace. May it encircle your temple for all eternity, marking you as a true guardian of the Shee-Slaugh throne."

Druken gives a crown of the Shee-Slaugh house to Lord Eliron Shee-Slaugh, Maestro of the Lament.

With an air of regal grace, Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows says to Eliron, "Rise now, Lord Eliron Shee-Slaugh, of the Royal Court, and be recognized in your station. May this be our truth, forevermore."

Lord Eliron Shee-Slaugh, Maestro of the Lament lets one hand linger on the crown for a moment before dropping it to his side to stand before you again.

Turning to face the gathering, Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows says, "The power of the Shee-Slaugh Court fills the Night. May we, together, continue to empower the Glomdoring Forest. Nothing matters but Glomdoring."

Tacita Ysav'rai, Song of the Wyrd flutters over and places the tiniest of kisses on Eliron's head where the shimmering crown meets his scalp before retreating once more into the shadows.

Lord Eliron Shee-Slaugh, Maestro of the Lament says, "Glory be to Glomdoring!"

Prince Alacardael Nightshade, Conduit of Darkness says, "Glory be to Glomdoring."

Wyrm Kaba, Ward of the Wyrd says, "Glory be to Glomdoring."

Tacita Ysav'rai, Song of the Wyrd whispers, "Glory be to Glomdoring."

Seer Ssaliss Shee-Slaugh says, "Glory be to Glomdoring!"

Secret Agent Ankastra, Sleuth of the Gloaming says, "Glory be to Glomdoring."

Inclining his head, Prince Druken Shee-Slaugh, Curator of Shadows says, "The coronation is complete. A new Lord is recognized. Thank you all for attending."

Turning to those gathered, Lord Eliron Shee-Slaugh, Maestro of the Lament says, "Thank you for sharing this moment with me, all of you."

With a flourish of his arm, Eliron bows deeply.

With a flourish of your arm, you bow deeply.

Kaba bows respectfully to you.

Kaba bows respectfully to Eliron.

The sky lightens and stars fade as Father Sun approaches the horizon in his neverending quest to capture Mother Night.

You draw the Fingerblade of dha'Wyrden-cree across the inside of your wrist, causing a line of blood to well up. You then lift the blade into the air, as shadows spill out of the wet crimson tip, swarming around you and taking you to the Realm of Shadows.

Oh good, you left out my kneeling fails.

Thanks for the ceremony! Most Shee-Slaugh snobbery I've had in ages. :wub: