You're in a large throneroom, seated in a wooden chair streaked with purple. You feel uncomfortably warm; you're draped in ancient green robes.

Formally-dressed courtiers surround you, the elite of the magical and scholarly worlds. They carry out various side-conversations... your attention drifts between them.

... Well, if they managed to get to our world to _make_ a formal demand for the return of their prison guard spirit thing, it should be considered. I mean --

-- Come on, what will they do if we refuse? Wave their little sticks and shout gibberish at us?

Yes! I don't care if they are weird fur-less ape things, their magic is dangerous and alien. Besides, none of the maintenance ponies will go up to the freezer mechanical room since that thing sucked the soul out of Lamp Lighter...

It sounds to me like you don't trust the Loremaster's discretion in inter-dimensional summoning...

No, of course I do... and goodness knows I like some nice ice in my drinks in the Summer. But still.

I'm here to do the Loremaster's portrait. Well, of course, the Canvas will do the actual portrait, I'm just it's legs, hah! Well, it's got wheels, but you know, they didn't bother to make it self-propelled. Oh, she's looking very nice in the robes. Glad you could convince her to put them on...

Some ponies push a canvas in front of you. It's blank. You can somehow sense it's powerfully enchanted.

The pony pushing the canvas stops and bows politely.

Pony: Your potency, I have brought, in accordance with the grand traditions of the Helix and your illustrious office, the Canvas of Burnt Umber, for your official investiture portrait. Would you please strike an appropriate pose, something with gravitas? You need only hold it a moment of course, the canvas works almost instantaneously...

[assuming pose]