Footsteps echo through the air as a large figure makes itself down the shadowed staircase, along with the tapping of a cane. Before it spoke.

"Graceless Tarnished, what is thy business.. with these thrones?"

Morgott stepped into the open light, rays of sunshine illuminating his weathered grey and wrinkled skin, tail shuffling against the faded ground as he stopped walking. His eyes look around the area, gold apparitions of Thrones arranged in a way that they circled and faced the main throne.

"Godrick the Golden, the twin prodigies, Miquella and Malenia, General Radahn, Praetor Rykard, Lunar Princess Ranni. Wilful traitors, all!"

He slammed the butt of his staff on the floor

"Thy kind are all of a piece: Pillagers, emboldened by the flame of ambition.."

Morgott spat the words out with a malice that could only come from centuries of pent up frustration before snapping to look at the Tarnished..