"So many of the proud, the free, gathered in one place." murmurs Verossa, her eye playing up and down the Elvish king. "Just one Blasphemy-", then something registers. Me?Me?.

She takes a step forward and, somewhat guiltily, jerks to parade attention. Then realises many are now looking at her in an expectant fashion. Well, give him a show.

"You heard the words! The names! Now see the steel!" Cold iron, really, but that would spoil the scansion. She draws her glaive and holds it aloft, feeling a little silly. "The sun is bright! The ravens are hungry! There's war to be made! My friends! Is not not a good day to be still alive?" She sidesteps next to the eldritch-looking chap. "Your cue to look like the smart one", she whispers.