The Makings of Myst

Yhifan stared in amazement. She'd heard the stories, of course. Legends abounded amongst the elves of supremely powerful beings whose words and actions had helped shape the world in which she lived. But, like most of the citizens of her elven town, she thought most of them were just that...legends. Never in her lifetime did she think this level of power actually existed. Even less likely would it be that she would come across something so impressive.

She watched as the strange armored man arrived. She listened as he spoke, and she was awestruck at the result. It was as if the man who had arrived demanding the presence of someone she'd never even heard of, had never even been there.

So badly, she wanted to say something to the man with the glowing red eyes. But no words could be found. What, after all, do you say to someone with that level of power at their command? What could little Yhifan, a jeweler and amateur enchantress, offer in the way of conversation to a creature who could simply weave matter back together as if it were a patch being placed on a garment? No. No words came.

After the stranger faded away, she whipped her head around to Doriaon. It was his staff the other man had been holding. What was going on here? "Who was that!?"
 
"Probably one of the oldest creatures you'll ever encounter."

Doriaon grinned as he walked, not really even having a destination in mind. He'd lost the trail of the creature he'd been hunting. He would have to wait for it to reappear somewhere to start his hunt, again. In the mean time, he just walked.

"He's part of a council of ancient beings. They oversee the Omniverse to ensure balance is maintained. That member, in particular, is how the council executes its judgments."
 
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