ShadowZero
The emperor starts walking down the stairs as he speaks, his voice is rather comically monarquical, and equally masculine, though with a taint of comicality and a little resound of madness in its background, almost seeming like something carnavalesque, like the extrapolation of a stereotype.
As he makes his way down, the many metallic pieces jingle and clank, but it's unearving to watch him speak, as his mask covers his whole face, including the eyes and the mouth.
"Oh why? To thank you of course! You housed my subjects in a time of great, great need and galactical instability. Have a seat."
He sways his open palm of the hand that doesn't hold the staff upwards, and the white panneling of the floor elevates upwards forming a chair for him and his knights. Then, he motions the open palm fowards, and a gentle stream of something pushes Jinaris and the knights down into the chairs, sitting them.
"Now now, you must have your fair share of questions, like how I did that, and how I am still alive. But please, do tell me, are you a clone, or do you clone yourself? It is a rather... personal question, so I am sorry if it bothers you."
