[center][b][u]Fiirnmir Starsplendour[/u][/b][/center]

Across the Cosmos he blazed. A man - nay, an Elf, a High Elf - encased in light and trailing fire, propelling himself with arcane fury through the star studded blackness, transcending time and reality, merging the borders of space and the Abyss with fervent yet practised hands. 

His name was Fiirnmir Starsplendour. The High King of the High Elves, Lord of Agros, Slayer of Gods and Bane of Divinity. His power was mighty, but his temper patient and just. He loved far more than he hated, saved more than he took, and protected far more than he threatened. His was not the business of pride or hubris, nor ignorance or passion. His was the domain of wisdom and compassion, tempered in the fire of righteous action. 

Yet as he came upon the source, he felt a rare pang of anger rush through him. 

Agros was in peril. Her many cities of gold and marble were crumbling into the seas. Her peoples, innocent as they were of their King's ancient sins, were dying in the thousands with every passing second. Indeed, the High Home of the High Elves was collapsing in on itself, and even Fiirnmir, as mighty as he was, could not turn the tide of relentless destruction. 

Fearing the Gods had returned to launch their revenge, he had taken to the Cosmos to battle them, in what he perceived to be a final confrontation between Elf and his Creator. Yet, as he ascended the clouds, and broke into that hollow and hopeless void known as the Cosmos, he found himself quite alone. No enemies awaited him, no minions of hate and peril, no trap nor ambush. Nothing. Yet still Agros continued to crumble below.

It did not take him long to ascertain the source of the threat to his peoples. Skilled in the lore of the multiversal plains, he was able to see - yet unable to hinder - the tendrils of powerful energy that now gripped his home. It seemed Agros was not under siege from divine beings, but something as equally severe. Something natural, yet tainted. 

And so he followed the source. 

And here he was. 

The High King of the High Elves, idle with rage, looked upon the folly of an idiotic race. 

No one, human or beast, from the crumbling skylines of New Ark would have noticed that lone shooting star in the sky above, blended as it was with the multitude of catastrophes affecting them; they would not have known that a being far mightier than science would ever permit, looked down upon them, as a huntsmen would look down upon a rabid dog.