Open Chronicles The Return Of The Queen

[Vel'duith]

Vel’duith blinked, tiptoeing to see the commotion just ahead of Zathria and her flame haired aperitif apparent. Was that Archmage Nimruil?! And openly mocking the Valsharess?!

Remembering the archmage’s profound importance to Vyx’aria, she swiftly concentrated on garbing him in something to preserve his life and limb- a regal raiment indeed, that would be fit for a queen if not for the belled jester’s hat and exaggerated facepaint. Her embeddings softly shimmered while maintaining the illusion, but she was small compared to those before her, and, she hoped, inconspicuous enough to maintain the illusion long enough to save him.

 

[Hebemarri]

"Of course you should know these weaknesses of the new Queen to better guard her from their exploitation. To shield her in ways no others can. Only yours is the wisdom and grace to do so, my Mistress, for you are unequaled before our magnificent goddess."​

In the Grand Temple

There was no way to tell how Hebemarri felt at this answer as she loomed in her holy garb.

“A fine response~” Hebemarri cooed, “gentle, even… how well my garden breaths that such a fine and gentle flower can bloom in the web of Zar,ahal.” At her command, the doors to the chamber then opened by magical means. “Come then, let us see the center of this web. To grant my shield to this renewed heart.”

Awaiting the high priestess was a precession of clergy, 500 priestesses strong. All were adorned in gold ornaments and obscuring silken robes, holding items of incense burning and sound making. Besides the priestesses were also Gloamkin of numerous shapes and sizes, from small imps who perched like gargoyles to hulking figures that bore shrines housing holy artifacts of the drow. Hebemarri took her place near the head of the formation where she beckoned for Kiyari to join her. And then the Temple doors were opened.

All along the path to the plaza, drow gathered to watch the march. Some dropped in prayer towards grand Maelzafan while others were merely enraptured to see the priesthood on parade. Those who drew too close were prodded away with long poles wielded by golden masked umbrals and a cloud incense formed around the priestesses as censors were swung in perfect harmony.

In the plaza. The priesthood was heard well before it was seen. They formed around the now complete statue of Maelzafan— standing no less then 70ft tall and adorned with all manner of earthly gemstones. Even Hebemarri was dwarfed in size by the space and the statue, and she took her place between it and the queen’s dias.

Silently and solemnly the priesthood stood, awaiting the queen apparent to arrive.

 

[Theceran]

Theceran had partaken in the drinking, but abstained from Shrooms. He needed to be able to see straightish. So he followed behind the hounds before he was spun into a crowd by Slaine Aylwin. He looked back with a scowl before he was grabbed by some other dancing drow.

The horn caused everyone to pause and he realized what it meant. Slaine began marching off with the others, the. He felt the nudge and a low groan escaped him. “If I die because she does toast one in my honor.” He said dryly before slinking off, stumbling slightly but not to the same degree as his sister.

He caught up to her and bumped into her, as they seemingly both stumbled, “I’m more stable lean on me so you don’t fall.” He whispered to her as they continued up the ramp to the coronation.

Slaine Aylwin Zairyn Nyssiel

 

[Vairos]

Half breed.

Vairos' jaw set. Some worm was speaking to him. Presuming to command him. A rush of anger surged through him. No one so beneath him was permitted to do so. No one. No one, except--

Vairos groaned as if in pain. A hand moved to his temple, umbral nails clutched at skin. His eyes wrenched closed, then looked around, wide, wild. He was...not where he thought. A banner above. A military one. A commander's, and a noble's. A house he did not know, but a house nonetheless.

A woman was speaking to him. A matriarch. Vairos had stepped to her, disrespected her as though she were a commoner. Why?

She ordered him to kneel. For her pet male.

"I...kneel before none but the queen..." he spoke as though it were a struggle. Why only the queen? He was also supposed to kneel before... "And the high priestess...Mistress Hebemmari..."

She had cast him to the earth and broken him. Vairos submitted to her.

"That said...forgive me. I was...disoriented. I meant no disrespect."

This he spoke truly. It was likely he could snap her or her servant's necks without so much as straining, but the kingdom's society demanded his respect. He did not know why, but he knew.

"You are right. I've duties to perform. If you'll excuse me..."

Much to do. Something about the queen. The new queen. The plaza. Vairos was in the plaza.

He dipped his head in something resembling a bow, the most his pride would allow him, and left. Back to his station, for whatever that meant.

 

[Vyx'aria]

Queen's Plaza​

Academy mages and warriors stood in immaculate ranks, armor aligned, staves grounded, blades still. Discipline radiated from them like a held breath. When Vyx’aria’s vornyx came to a halt at the plaza’s edge, the last scraps of chatter died instantly, swallowed by reverent silence.

She did not move at once.

From the saddle, Vyx’aria surveyed the assembled masses, not as individuals, not as subjects seeking favor, but as a single living body bound by blood, faith, and history. Her gaze passed over them without settling, crimson eyes distant, unblinking, as though she were measuring something older than loyalty. Something deeper.

The vornyx shifted beneath her, massive and patient.

She could have dismounted easily. The distance meant nothing to her. But tradition mattered here. Ritual was power given shape. And so she waited for the servant of a Maelzafan priestess to escort her.