"Old Brama!" Niafon's voice boomed. His figure loomed high in the skies, looking every bit the part of Buddha. His belly was a shimmering mass of rounded gold, a halo pulsing vertically to his back, looping in a wide arch that looked more like a gate to Heaven than an extension of a man's body.
He was larger than life, greater than the skies, and a single palm from him should have shattered a small figure like Old Brama to pieces.
And yet, it had been days of no movement. Standing there alone, Old Brama seemed to remind them of the olden days—days where he took the council by the horns and stood as the foremost expert of their Golden Grove, a man not just known for his battle prowess, but his wit and intelligence.
The very best Rune Master in this galaxy.
A palm struck down from above, only smaller than the enormous golden tree that held up the skies.
