The second your fingertips brush against the crown, a deep rumble fills the room. The ground shakes, and you stumble and fall.
Around you, the skeletons and desiccated corpses burst to life. They leap up from the stone shelves and shamble toward you, hissing and rattling.
You shout in surprise and scramble to your feet. You turn towards the exit, only to find the way blocked by the dead. Bony hands grab you from behind and drag you back towards the throne. Several of them restrain you while two others shove the corpse of the king, the only corpse to remain dead, off the throne.
They take his crown, and he crumbles to dust. they ones holding you drag you kicking and fighting to the throne and force you to sit.
"We need a king," they say through mouths broken with age, through mouths that should not be able to form words. "We need a king."
"You have no name!" says one.
"No name! No name!" they chant.
"We name you our king."
They put the crown on your head and name you their king.
And so you are.
* * * * *
You became the Skeleton King! Hooray?