Part 1
@Rodiak Nahir @Silverpaw Wulfric @FunnyGuy Lorenzo @Helo Leo @Apex Sunburn Sjandehk @Potter Kira @JJ Doe Riona @Lava Alckon Farim
As the last notes of the music fades into a silence, a palpable sense of anticipation sweeps through the congregation. The stained glass windows throw a dramatic spectrum of colors across the faces of the awaiting folks amongst the pews.
At that moment, the side door near the altar creaks open, and a new figure with a well-kept dark beard steps into the space. His ceremonial robes rustle softly as he moves to the front. He raises his hands, signaling for quiet.
It is Father Aldric Vorn.
"My children," Father Aldric's voice resonates through the room, his tone deep and clear. "Before the arrival of our sovereign, it is our sacred duty to invoke the divine favor of the gods who watch over us. Please, rise."
As all stood, a collective rustle then sweeps through the pews. Father Aldric waits a moment, before he announces, "Let us call upon our gods, that they might bless this gathering and our beloved king."
"In the light of Zivitas, we find grace," Aldric begins.
"Zivitas, bless us with your light." The congregation answers.
"Under the protection of Triumpheus, we find victory,"
"Triumpheus, guide us to triumph."
"With the wisdom of Imperis, we uphold order,"
"Imperis, grant us your justice."
"Through the bounty of Amora, we cherish love,"
"Amora, fill our hearts."
"Beneath the gaze of Aquena, we navigate life’s currents,"
"Aquena, steer our path."
"From the forge of Duedon, we draw strength,"
"Duedon, fortify our spirit."
"In the storms of Tempestes, we seek shelter,"
"Tempestes, calm our fears."
"Through the forests of Vena, we hunt our aspirations,"
"Vena, lead our pursuits."
As the final echo of the chants fade, the grand doors at the entrance of the church swing open with a dramatic boom that seems to shake the very foundations. As everyone turns their head to watch in unison, they find an orchestra seated in the back of the church. In the front, a choir begins to fill the stands to the left.
The anticipation in the air could be cut with a knife as the sounds of the orchestra fill the congregation's ears.
First arrives a train of ten holy torchbearers, arranged in five pairs. Each holds aloft a massive torch, the flames dancing wildly, casting flickering shadows around them. Their synchronized steps echo through the church, matching the increasing intensity of the orchestral music. The light from their torches bathe the church in a golden glow, setting a dramatic backdrop for the rest of the parade.
Hail Edin, chosen by divine grace,
In his glory, behold the gods’ face.
Triumpheus! Aquena! Imperis!
Amora! Glorius! Tempestes!
Hear the heavens declare his rule just and wise,
Vena! Duedon! Zivitas! Their powers arise!
[King Edin's voice fills the room, but his location is unknown]
Behold me, the reflection of divinity,
My reign, a testament to the gods’ affinity.
Triumpheus. Aquena. Imperis.
Amora! Glorius! Tempestes!
From cosmic battles to peaceful reign,
Vena! Duedon! Zivitas! Echo again!
In Edin’s light, the kingdom thrives,
His name sung by the gods, through our lives.
As the gods chant my name, so does eternity,
In the echoes of the cosmos, my legacy.
Behind the torchbearers, a group of beautiful women in flowing gowns gracefully enter. They carried baskets overladen with flower petals. With each step, they toss the petals into the air. The sweet fragrance of roses lofted through the church.
The atmosphere then shifts again with the thunderous march of the golden knights. Clad in shimmering armor that clink and clank with each heavy step, they raise their swords high. At this point, King Edin's voice is heard through the air as he joins in the song, but he is not seen physically.
The most unexpected performance follows: a troupe of dancers, their faces obscured by oversized, paper-mâché masks resembling King Edin’s head. These dancers, clad in flowing, ethereal fabrics, begin a ballet performance, weaving through the knights and flower maidens. The juxtaposition of the eerie masks with the delicate grace of their dance create a bizarre spectacle.
As the last dancer spins out of the aisle, the congregation is left in a state of awe, their applause thundering through the church. The culmination of this theatrical procession set the stage perfectly for King Edin’s grand entrance.
There, in the threshold, finally appears King Edin, though not merely walking as a common man might. No, he sits upon a magnificent chair, a throne carried aloft on the shoulders of eight men dressed in crimson and gold. The throne itself is gilded and encrusted with jewels.
King Edin sat imperiously upon his elevated seat, his head held high. His crown, outrageously large and elaborate, is set with towering plumes of red and white feathers and glittering gemstones that caught every flicker of light. This crown, dramatic in its size, seems almost a burden to bear, yet it rests securely upon his head.
Behind him, more attendants follow, their sole task to manage the majestic, fur-lined red cape that flowed from his shoulders. This cape is so extensive that it requires the hands of six attendants to ensure it does not brush the ground. Each attendant holds a portion of the fabric, their steps measured to avoid any misstep that might mar the regal display.
As the bearers carry King Edin down the aisle, everyone rises to their feet in unison, a wave of murmurs rolling through the crowd. The sight of their king, elevated above them, is overwhelming, though Edin himself seems to refuse to look upon anyone's face at this point in time.
Upon reaching the front of the church, the bearers gently set the throne down with practiced ease, allowing King Edin to rise. As he steps forward, the bearers and attendants neatly arrange his cape behind him, ensuring that not a fold is out of place. Standing before his people, King Edin raises his hands ceremoniously, and a massive applause follows.