[center] [color=azure][h1] [u]The Arrivals[/u][/h1][/color] [color=goldenrod] People were starting to stream into the Highest court. It was a needed injection of life to the great hall and its naturally tense tone. Formality was starting to crack as the new gods walked in. It was clear that while the court was important; between the banter, the arguements, and even the various mobs of creatures poking and annoying each other it was less an rightous formation of higher beings and more school reunion of adults who never really grew up. The shapes and sizes changed radically with each new member: fat demons with bloody teeth; tiny fairies with obnoxiously pink dresses; dark shadows that strolled indepently. This parade of imagination from the mind of an hyperactive child flooded the audience seats, although, by some power divine there seemed to always be an extra row at back. but two...two walked together to the Pantheon chairs. Clearly not paying attention. [i] "I'm telling you, you drunken lout. It was all a set up, you've been played. AGAIN"[/i] An educated voice with an carefully crafted accent announced. It was a well dressed man with a dogs head. [i]"You won't talk to me like that when I got my seat..."[/i] He growled bubbles into his tankard as he did. Cerpen had this annoyed looked, his bushy eyebrows flexing at him. [i]"Well, I'm going to take a seat too. I surly doubt the Essentials will put a..."[/i] He cut off. He pulled in his snout a little, he lost the heart to finish his sentence. The two parted ways and sat down at opposites sides of the rows. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Some absent minded deity's papers started to float across across the room. riding the sudden chill that filled the air from the doorway. It was audible, nearly loud, despites its tame nature. In the nothingness that was the Divine realm even a cup of air felt like a tornado to the senses[i] "Ah. I've been looking forward to this"[/i] Said an old voice, shambling out a tone that was shaking with a nervous glee. The speaker perked up from a small fog that seeped through the open doors, growing bigger with each step until a vague 5.6 tall humanoid silhouette appeared from it. He took a deep breath, sucking up a long stream of his own smoke with a content smile on his face and let his posture drop into a casual confidence. Then he turned back. A hand reached out from a charcoal colored robbed follower and gently pushed him back to the court; it whispered in his ear as he did. He seemed surprised and elated again [i]"Oh, I've been looking forward to this!"[/i] He said. He repeated this process at least 3 times, blocking scores of lower deities with the amassing wards trying to lead him in. Eventually they managed to scoot him onto his throne: A mismatch design that had the springs of a bed under it, a wooden table over them, and the arm rests and top of a chair. It seems the designer didn't know what he was designing [i]"This isn't comfortable"[/i] He complained. A stoic, given up voice from his robbed wards said automatically [i]"You made it, sir"[/i] [i]"Ah."[/i] A few moments later the second Essential entered: Huladni had the same stern look he granted to everyone, which in this case, he did grant to everyone. If an tension could cut skin then the court room would of been a massacre, each one earned a slow and deliberate stop in a brief, silent judgement. He stopped at Kozo and Mirli, a slight smile breaking the stale disclipline of his face. Then he turned it to the Pantheon seats and his brow collapsed into a glare. His body was so tense that it was displaying every muscle and bone more than an anatomy chart as he walked over to his throne. Huladni's throne was simple, it had less of an appearence of design and more the look of a bunch of rocks that happened to form a vague throne shape. The first thing he did was looked down at Silacetus [i]"This isn't an inheritance you know..."[/i] he had deep, masculine voice with an rough end to it, as if he had used it to bludgeon some animal to death before coming in. [i]"This is about rules, if you don't respect rules then why are you here?"[/i] He asked, giving her an inquisitve frown. Before she could answer a final person entered. An old man in a long sheet from some ancient, simple dress that went out of style at the very start of the shame of nudity. He looked mortal, nothing about him was unique or special, he even clumsily tripped over himself and nearly dropped his giant stack of papers as he entered.[i] "No. I got it. Don't worry. They're ok!"[/i] He let out in a small smile of excitment, he looked around, no one shared it. With that he slowly went and sat on the final throne: it was plain, white, featureless and sturdy. That was...well...would be Lorin's throne if he had a body, but his translator was sitting there instead. Funneling through an paper work as deep as a cinderblock and writing smaller than ants. [/color] [/center]