The doors of the royal Reception Hall crashed open. King Tarask, who had been conversing with a South African duke, looked up, astonished over the pomposity of whoever barged like this in the royal palace. Staring back at him were the seven cold gazes of the Vol Coven, gathered in a throng in the doorway, lethal flames and sheets of lava dancing around their shapes. As the royal guard assembled wordlessly in front of the regent, Tarask stood up, mesmerized by the show his advisors were putting on. "What is the meaning of this?", he asked, as the Evoker of the Blades conjured a wall of fire before the guards. "How dare you enter without permission and respect? I could have you beheaded! All of you!"
"Unfortunately, beloved King, that is a fate reserved for you. Vol'Kiss is not to be ruled by a single man, and we stand ready to - regrettably - take up this sincerely honourable duty", the Sharen countered in mock lament. "To us, your character is questionable and hedonistic - nothing to rule a land with. We are seven hedonists and much more preferrable." Tarask's angry reply was quieted by the tongues of fire that erupted from the throats of his elite guards, the soldiers screaming as their bodies burst in flame. "Ah, ah, ah, milord", the Evoker of the Tongues added, wagging his finger. "Such lack of servitude is the mark of a worthless tyrant." The regent drew his sword, but the diplomat smiled even more broadly as he pointed at the dethroned regent.
"I have one final gift for you, milord. The blessing of the final, great death. Use it well." The archmages began raising their voices in unison, soon united in a morbid chant as Tarask, raging, ran at them, swinging his sword. From the side doors stormed another unit of the royal guard, lead by a Ranger commander, but they halted before they could reach the King - the flame wall was blocking their way.
"Blast you to hell, mages!", the king roared as the chanting subsided, only to be replaced by a looming magma elemental. It looked bemusedly at the king, and struck once.
"Perhaps, milord, but you first.." The voice was the only thing Tarask heard as his torso burst into fire, soon taking his life with it.