Post by King Njal I on Aug 25, 2020 12:27:48 GMT
Summer 677
The newly decorated and furnished underground grand hall in Kirkwaa was packed thickly with dwarves. It hadn't been that long ago that the boyking had been crowned and Asbjorn Helgisson was made Protector of Demacia. The young king had not even ruled a year before he was struck by illness. Asbjorn had been the first to know, which was why he hadn't attended the council meetings of the Iron Shield. He had not shared this knowledge with Njal. Eventually, the news of the boyking's state spread throughout Demacia and when he was laid to rest in his stone coffin in the crypt of his father, Njal had been called upon as the next heir to the throne.
The mass of dwarves separated as Njal entered and walked the customary march up to the throne. He had always known that this was a possibility, and he had been brought up to be ready, and yet it still weighed heavily on him. He felt very alone, even though he was surrounded by his kin. He marched in the ancient armor of the dwarven kings of old, which was both ugly and heavy. The armor was ceremonial and hadn't been used in combat for generations. It was made from an undeterminable metal, and every inch of it had been scorched black. Its heavy plates covered Njal entirely, except for the head. The massive helmet rested upon the throne, which Njal was slowly approaching. If the large, rectangular shield ever displayed a crest, it was now impossible to discern through the soot that had been burned into a permanent coating. In his right hand he wielded his own dwarven axe, the symbol of the future, which stood out with the armor and the shield, which were symbols of the past.
As he neared the throne, he expected to see the Council of Iron Shields, or the clergy of the Anointed Ancestors led by Rogr, but they had not come. Instead, he was met by a group of elderly dwarves that stepped out from the crowd and blocked his way, marking the start of the crowning ritual itself. The eldest spread his arms and shouted loudly to Njal "Who approaches the throne o' the dwarves?"
Njal slammed the handle of his axe against his shield three times before he shouted back "I am the mountain! Am the earth! Am the rock that breaks the tide!"
A second elder shouted out to Njal "By what power dae ye claim yer place?"
Again the axe slammed against the shield three times before the reply "By the braun o' mah brothers! By the will o' mah folk! By the endurance o' mah race!"
A third elder stepped forward and shouted to Njal "Who is yer brothers? Who is yer folk? Who is yer race?"
The clang of metal rang thrice through the hall before Njal shouted back "Mah brothers are the warriors what fight for honor! Mah folk are the ones what toil in the mountains! My race is the dwarves what holds back the darkness!"
The eldest picked up the helmet, walked down to Njal and placed it on his head. "Will ye go thro' battle? Will ye go thro' fire? Will ye go thro' death?"
Njal raised his shield and shouted "Neither battle nor fire nor death will stand in mah way. By the spirits o' the fallen, I will fulfill mah duty."
The elderly dwarves stepped back into the crowd, allowing Njal to take the last few steps to the throne. He turned around, facing the crowd. "Too young did mah cousin die. Too earlie did mah uncle leave us. As mah uncle afore me did, I now surrender mah life tae the folk. I am the foremost defender, the foremost guardian and the foremost warrior. I will lead ye under th' guidance o' our ancestors, nae for mah own glory, but for the glory o' our folk. Til the end o' time, and beyond, we are the guardians o' creation. By our might, th' world endures. By our might, when the world shatters, the darkness will be pushed back. By our might, the darkness will yield and the fresh world will be born. The honor o' the dwarves is eternal."
Having spoken, Njal sat down on the throne. Silence descended on the grand hall as the ritual neared its end.
The elderly dwarves took up positions in front of the throne, and the eldest adressed the people. "Behold, the king o' the dwarves. The King o' Demacia. One with the ancestors since before time. His reign is eternal. Even death cannae end his vigilance. All hail the king. All hail King Njal!"
The King rose from his throne, and the crowd erupted in thunderous cheer.
OOC: Credit to sciurusaurus who wrote most of the scene and which I have adapted to this game.
The newly decorated and furnished underground grand hall in Kirkwaa was packed thickly with dwarves. It hadn't been that long ago that the boyking had been crowned and Asbjorn Helgisson was made Protector of Demacia. The young king had not even ruled a year before he was struck by illness. Asbjorn had been the first to know, which was why he hadn't attended the council meetings of the Iron Shield. He had not shared this knowledge with Njal. Eventually, the news of the boyking's state spread throughout Demacia and when he was laid to rest in his stone coffin in the crypt of his father, Njal had been called upon as the next heir to the throne.
The mass of dwarves separated as Njal entered and walked the customary march up to the throne. He had always known that this was a possibility, and he had been brought up to be ready, and yet it still weighed heavily on him. He felt very alone, even though he was surrounded by his kin. He marched in the ancient armor of the dwarven kings of old, which was both ugly and heavy. The armor was ceremonial and hadn't been used in combat for generations. It was made from an undeterminable metal, and every inch of it had been scorched black. Its heavy plates covered Njal entirely, except for the head. The massive helmet rested upon the throne, which Njal was slowly approaching. If the large, rectangular shield ever displayed a crest, it was now impossible to discern through the soot that had been burned into a permanent coating. In his right hand he wielded his own dwarven axe, the symbol of the future, which stood out with the armor and the shield, which were symbols of the past.
As he neared the throne, he expected to see the Council of Iron Shields, or the clergy of the Anointed Ancestors led by Rogr, but they had not come. Instead, he was met by a group of elderly dwarves that stepped out from the crowd and blocked his way, marking the start of the crowning ritual itself. The eldest spread his arms and shouted loudly to Njal "Who approaches the throne o' the dwarves?"
Njal slammed the handle of his axe against his shield three times before he shouted back "I am the mountain! Am the earth! Am the rock that breaks the tide!"
A second elder shouted out to Njal "By what power dae ye claim yer place?"
Again the axe slammed against the shield three times before the reply "By the braun o' mah brothers! By the will o' mah folk! By the endurance o' mah race!"
A third elder stepped forward and shouted to Njal "Who is yer brothers? Who is yer folk? Who is yer race?"
The clang of metal rang thrice through the hall before Njal shouted back "Mah brothers are the warriors what fight for honor! Mah folk are the ones what toil in the mountains! My race is the dwarves what holds back the darkness!"
The eldest picked up the helmet, walked down to Njal and placed it on his head. "Will ye go thro' battle? Will ye go thro' fire? Will ye go thro' death?"
Njal raised his shield and shouted "Neither battle nor fire nor death will stand in mah way. By the spirits o' the fallen, I will fulfill mah duty."
The elderly dwarves stepped back into the crowd, allowing Njal to take the last few steps to the throne. He turned around, facing the crowd. "Too young did mah cousin die. Too earlie did mah uncle leave us. As mah uncle afore me did, I now surrender mah life tae the folk. I am the foremost defender, the foremost guardian and the foremost warrior. I will lead ye under th' guidance o' our ancestors, nae for mah own glory, but for the glory o' our folk. Til the end o' time, and beyond, we are the guardians o' creation. By our might, th' world endures. By our might, when the world shatters, the darkness will be pushed back. By our might, the darkness will yield and the fresh world will be born. The honor o' the dwarves is eternal."
Having spoken, Njal sat down on the throne. Silence descended on the grand hall as the ritual neared its end.
The elderly dwarves took up positions in front of the throne, and the eldest adressed the people. "Behold, the king o' the dwarves. The King o' Demacia. One with the ancestors since before time. His reign is eternal. Even death cannae end his vigilance. All hail the king. All hail King Njal!"
The King rose from his throne, and the crowd erupted in thunderous cheer.
OOC: Credit to sciurusaurus who wrote most of the scene and which I have adapted to this game.