The sorrowful familiar

Twenty-one cloaked figures stand in a circle, twenty of them wears dark red cloaks and one of them is clad in a black one.

They chant in an unknown language and in complete disorder. All of them says the same thing, the same poem that they all learned by heart and repeated oh soo many times already, yet you can not hear anything even resembling syncron or order.

The whole room feels chaotic and strange. As the ritual continues a new figure walks into the circle. This one wears brown and holds a bowl in one hand.

The newcomer walks to the middle of the circle and start drawing a pentagram using the vicious purple liquid from the bowl.

The chant intensifies and the pentagram starts to give out a faint light. The brown cloaked figure just stands there, face hidden by the shadows.

And then it all ends. There is silence all of a sudden, maybe the only thing these people did in unison was to shut up.

The pentagram lights up for one last time and the room gets enveloped by a thick mist, noone's sure from where does it exactly comes from but it means the ritual was successful.

The mist is still too thick to see through but you can already hear the black robed figure shouting out.

"In the name of our leader I, the representative of the red snake cult, am ordering you to thereby became bound to our new member and obey all commands, tend to all needs and never ever betray our cult!"

The mist clears and you saw the cloaked form of your new so-called "master".