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Description
The grand hall is packed thickly with dwarves. Many young dwarves sit on their parent's shoulders to better see what was happening. After all, it will most likely be centuries until the next time a king is crowned.

The mass of dwarves separates as prince Theoric enters and walks the customary march up to the throne. He is wearing the ancient armor of his family, which is both ugly and heavy by modern standards. The armor itself is made from an undeterminable metal, and every inch of it has been scorched black. Its heavy plates cover Theoric entirely, except for the head. The massive helmet rests currently upon the throne which he is slowly approaching. If the large, rectangular shield ever displayed a crest, it is now impossible to discern through the soot that has been burned into a permanent coating. In his right hand he wields a viciously spiked hammer of solid metal that matches the armor and shield.

As he nears the throne, the council of elders steps out from the crowd and blocks his way, marking the start of the crowning ritual itself. The eldest of the council spreads his arms and shouts loudly to the prince "Who approaches the throne of the dwarves?"

Theoric slams the handle of his hammer against his shield three times before he shouts back "I am the mountain! I am the earth! I am the rock that breaks the tide!"

A second elder shouts out to the prince "By what power do you claim your place?"

Again the hammer is slammed against the shield three times before the reply "By the strength of my brothers! By the will of my people! By the endurance of my race!"

A third elder steps forward and shouts to the prince "Who is your brothers? Who is your people? Who is your race?"

The clang of metal rings thrice through the hall before the Theoric shouts back "My brothers are the warriors who fight for honor! My people are the ones who toils in the mountains! My race is the dwarves who holds back the darkness!"

The eldest picks up the helmet, walks down to Theoric and places it on his head. "Will you go through battle? Will you go through fire? Will you through death?"

The prince raises his shield and shouts "Neither battle nor fire nor death will stand in my way. By the spirits of the fallen, I will fulfill my duty."

The council of elders step back into the crowds, allowing Theoric to take the last few steps onto the throne. He turns around, facing the crowd. "As my fathers before me have done, I now surrender my life to the people. I renounce my name and my past. I am only the King. I am the first defender, the first guardian and the first warrior. I will lead you under the guidance of our ancestors, not for my own glory, but for the glory of our people. Until the end of time, and beyond, we are the guardians of creation. By our might, the world endures. By our might, when the world shatters, the darkness will be pushed back. By our might, the darkness will yield and the new world will be born. The honor of the dwarves is eternal."

Having recited the oath of the dwarven kings, Theoric sits down on the throne. Silence descends on the grand hall as the ritual nears its end.

The council of elders take up positions in front of the throne, and the eldest adress the people. "Behold, the King of the dwarves. One with the ancestors since before time. His reign is eternal. Even death can not end his vigilance. "

The King rises from his throne, and the crowd erupts in thunderous cheering.

Description
The grand hall is packed thickly with dwarves. Many young dwarves sit on their parent's shoulders to better see what was happening. After all, it will most likely be centuries until the next time a king is crowned.

The mass of dwarves separates as prince Theoric enters and walks the customary march up to the throne. He is wearing the ancient armor of his family, which is both ugly and heavy by modern standards. The armor itself is made from an undeterminable metal, and every inch of it has been scorched black. Its heavy plates cover Theoric entirely, except for the head. The massive helmet rests currently upon the throne which he is slowly approaching. If the large, rectangular shield ever displayed a crest, it is now impossible to discern through the soot that has been burned into a permanent coating. In his right hand he wields a viciously spiked hammer of solid metal that matches the armor and shield.

As he nears the throne, the council of elders steps out from the crowd and blocks his way, marking the start of the crowning ritual itself. The eldest of the council spreads his arms and shouts loudly to the prince "Who approaches the throne of the dwarves?"

Theoric slams the handle of his hammer against his shield three times before he shouts back "I am the mountain! I am the earth! I am the rock that breaks the tide!"

A second elder shouts out to the prince "By what power do you claim your place?"

Again the hammer is slammed against the shield three times before the reply "By the strength of my brothers! By the will of my people! By the endurance of my race!"

A third elder steps forward and shouts to the prince "Who is your brothers? Who is your people? Who is your race?"

The clang of metal rings thrice through the hall before the Theoric shouts back "My brothers are the warriors who fight for honor! My people are the ones who toils in the mountains! My race is the dwarves who holds back the darkness!"

The eldest picks up the helmet, walks down to Theoric and places it on his head. "Will you go through battle? Will you go through fire? Will you through death?"

The prince raises his shield and shouts "Neither battle nor fire nor death will stand in my way. By the spirits of the fallen, I will fulfill my duty."

The council of elders step back into the crowds, allowing Theoric to take the last few steps onto the throne. He turns around, facing the crowd. "As my fathers before me have done, I now surrender my life to the people. I renounce my name and my past. I am only the King. I am the first defender, the first guardian and the first warrior. I will lead you under the guidance of our ancestors, not for my own glory, but for the glory of our people. Until the end of time, and beyond, we are the guardians of creation. By our might, the world endures. By our might, when the world shatters, the darkness will be pushed back. By our might, the darkness will yield and the new world will be born. The honor of the dwarves is eternal."

Having recited the oath of the dwarven kings, Theoric sits down on the throne. Silence descends on the grand hall as the ritual nears its end.

The council of elders take up positions in front of the throne, and the eldest adress the people. "Behold, the King of the dwarves. One with the ancestors since before time. His reign is eternal. Even death can not end his vigilance. "

The King rises from his throne, and the crowd erupts in thunderous cheering.