As you take your seat among the 12 other rulers, you look down the table. Today was it. Scott had asked you to host the festival celebrating Xornoth’s downfall. As you clutch the pendant the demon had gifted you to express control over you, you tear it off, the polished obsidian clattering against the rim of your plate, the attention of your fellow rules turning to you. It’s time. You have to tell them of Xornoth’s defeat, though before you can, Fwhip declares his own announcement, and at the far end of the table, places a crown.

”One crown, to rule them all for a time. Whoever wears it can make the others fall in line…”

You stare intently at the crown, though its power does not tempt you. — Fwhip: “Whoever believes they deserve to wear the crown, please step forward.” Multiple rulers step forward, all but you…the crown, as someone has taken it into their hands, is quickly passed about as each ruler attacks another, desperate for the power it possesses.