There it was after all of those years, had any other man made such a trek they would have surely crumbled under the pressure, but some say that Revan isn't even a man at all. It had taken so much time to make it here, so much blood and shit and... it was just a lot of work, alright? But it would not be all for naught as he had finally reached his destination.

"Hey why's that sewer grate open?"

"Some asshole jumped down there and said he was heading home. I don't know."

"Well just close it and get back to work."

"Right."

As he heard the voices from up above, Revan shrugged them off and continued on foot until he saw it sitting right in front of him, perfectly perserved in every way. It had seen better days to be sure, but no one could ever take away this moment from him. As he smiled widely from ear to ear, he wiped off some of the less flattering mess and took a seat.

"My throne..." It felt a bit damp.

Shrugging for a moment, he shoved the crown back atop his head and while he hoped the black smudges that now wrapped around his forehead were just dirt, he begun to think up of what was next to do on his docket. Revan couldn't be a King from down here, oh no, he had already tried that and the rats were anything but compatible with his ruling style; they were far too smug. He would need some help from his friends, particularly those from Seattle... but who? It took him only a few seconds to think of the perfect person to help him on his ascent to glory.

Now all he had to do was convince them to help.

PoisonCentipede had been out and about for the day, running some of his daily chores when he came across some men discussing a bizarre event they had witnessed recently. He couldn't make out much of the conversation, but they mentioned a little gremlin looking man ripping opening a sewer grate and hopping inside.

"What? Have I been discovered?!"

He thought to himself, wondering if the gremlin was an assassin sent after him. Unwilling to pay rent or buy a house, PoisonCentipede had made a small dwelling in the sewer, and it sounded like someone had committed breaking and entering in his government-funded private estate! He quickly made his way back to his lovely home entrance, only to find it violated as the men had mentioned. 

After taking about an hour to take all of his shoes off, PoisonCentipede snuck into his home, only to find the aforementioned gremlin (although he seemed an average height, perhaps there was some over-exaggeration) sitting on a toilet, with a paper crown on his head. Since he seemed quite harmless, PoisonCentipede let down his guard, highly doubting this man could be an assassin.

"Excuse me sir, are you lost, constipated, or both?"

Leora had heard that there was new royalty on the streets. Since she was queen herself, she thought she would pay him his due respects. "King Revan," she muttered under her breath. "A worthy name."

She followed the tips of the locals. She followed them up the road, up a hill... and down a sewer. "I have always wanted a dungeon for myself," she said as she admired the interior. There was unidentified yellow mass on the floor while the rats scurried around and hinted at the gloom.

A man sat on his throne. He had a green crown which resembled the yellow mass on the floor.  He held a gun in one hand and a shovel in the other. He looked regal in his own unique way. Leora admired his style, and his dungeon-throne room. She was sure that many-a-prisoner would have spilled their guts just by entering it.

Leora nodded to the King, nothing more. She had her own majesty to uphold. She was just seeing her neighbor and maybe make a new ally. 

"Hello, I am Leora St. Claire. People sometimes call me 'Queen'," she declared.

His robes were a bit musty and hardened in some spots, but he was still able to maneuver them just enough to do a really badass twirl thing that made his entire entrance pop. Leora was someone he hadn't met many times, but he ran in this circle long enough to know someone who could get things done -- which is why he stepped over the Centipedal man and walked directly over to her instead. Shaking her hand and leaving a faint black mark behind, he grinned widely.

"Hello there, Miss St. Claire. I have a proposition for you if you don't mind? This toi... throne, I need it topside, but there are people up there who are looking for me. You see, I was retired for quite some time, but finally I think I'm ready to get my head back into the game, so to speak."

Looking over at the dejected Centipede, he scoffs a mighty and royal scoff.

"I guess you can help too... reconnaissance or something like that." 

With one last scoff he looked back over to Leora and waited for her response, this was a lot to ask. Moving a luxury item such as this would usually take an entire team of a hundred men or more, for just three rag tag individuals to pull it off would take nothing short of a miracle, but he was just the man to do it.

He let out a small sigh, not knowing what he had just gotten himself into. He knew he was a little bit on the short end, but usually people at least saw him, and they definitely didn't scoff at him. Without saying anything he went to perform his recon mission, consisting of crawling back out of the sewers, putting on all his shoes, and looking around for any suspicious activity. 

Of course there was nothing suspicious, but he knew he couldn't just instantly go back down there with such a simple report. Who knows if King Toilet would find it acceptable, or simply scoff, or perhaps even worse. Instead, he took a leisure stroll around the nearby blocks, even stopping to get some vanilla ice cream at a nearby shop. Obviously this was part of his reconnaissance, to make sure that the store didn't contain any spies, and that there was no poison in the frozen delicacy. 

By now he figured he could return back to the hideout as he had wasted quite a bit of time. When entering he didn't even take any shoes off, clearly showing he meant business. As he took a lick from his ice cream he delivered his report as loud as he could,

"ALL CLEAR SIR TOILET SIR! RECON MISSION COMPLETE! STANDING BY FOR PROMOTION!"

He then shuffled to the side to catch his breath from all the shouting and to enjoy the key item obtained from his mission.

Leora looked at PoisonCentipede in wonder. He carried with him a cone of vanilla ice cream. There were yellow sprinkles at the top, but when she looked at the floor again with its yellow unidentified matter, she wasn't so sure. She took a sniff of the sewers and also admired his stomach of steel. She looked to Poison Centipede and gave a nod of thanks. 

Leora clapped and an army of butlers and maids started marching from the sewer lines. The lead butler, Hayate, and the lead maid, Nagato, wrinkled their noses for a bit, but otherwise stood in respectful attention. The lead butler, Hayate, had blue hair and had a subservient look of happiness. He was no doubt a man who attracted a lot of women, but too pussy to do anything about it. The lead maid, Nagato, was beautiful maid. She was a bald African American man who towered at seven feet tall. Leora had actually hoped for the traditional pretty and feminine maid, but she respected Nagato's aesthetics and gender.

"You heard the man," she said. Hayate and Nagato both nodded. The butlers and maids started hammering around King Revan's throne. There were a few trying to dust the sewer walls and make it clean. Leora was worried, to be honest. She liked King Revan's dungeon-throne room, but by the end of it all, things would change. And she was right, the sewer throne room was suddenly spotlessly clean. There were fur rugs on the floor, and the air smelled vaguely of lilacs. A dim light from the newly installed chandelier shined on them. The entrances to the other sewer lines were blocked off, and the area was surgically sanitary. She was pretty sure anyone could suture wounds in the throne room now.

"Come, follow me," Leora declared. They all climbed out of the manhole. The toilet throne was gloriously on the street. It was suddenly golden, and knowing Leora, it was probably pure gold. There were was a newly installed bidet and the tank was studded with diamonds. It was placed on a massive stage where the whole street could see. There were Durdens surrounding it and holding palm leaves. Ready to fan, they were beckoning King Revan. A Durden even placed a grape on his lips and was starting to approach him. He was ready to feed the king.

CookieZombie was strolling the streets eating his blueberry muffin when he suddenly lost his balance and his face crashed hard against the pavement. He took a moment to recover from his fall and then his eyes, filled with fury, searched for the cause of his downfall. He saw an open sewer lid where he was walking moments ago. Some kids where coming out of the manhole and suddenly CookieZombie had found a target to unleash his fury upon. But as he tried to get up and scold the little ones, more people started emerging out of the manhole; he saw butlers and maids, and eventually a big fancy toilet seat with a man mounted on it. 

"WHAT THE ACTUAL F--" He froze before he could complete his sentence. It was no longer possible for him to move a single muscle, he couldn't muster the strength to do so; the person sitting on top of the bidet radiated THAT much power. After a couple of minutes CookieZombie regained part of his spiritual strength and managed to confront the man on the makeshift throne. 

"Excuse me, who are you?" He asked. The man didn't answer, but their eyes met. Suddenly CookieZombie knew everything about that man. He was a royal spirit, an urban legend. The spirit would occasionally possess a rock or an owl, but once in a hundred years it would find a suitable human vessel; or so the legend goes.

"Pardon me for my insolence, your Grace. I present you with the finest gifts of our world" He said as he bowed before KingRevan, offering him the half-eaten blueberry muffin.