The old elf sighs, and nods, sitting back down, though he looks far from relaxed. "Talking, is it? It's been so long, I've nearly forgotten what it's like." He shakes his head. "I suppose I might still be considered a 'Beyonder'... is that the term you've come up with? I suppose that makes the most sense, doesn't it? Especially since you already use 'outsider'. But, I think you have me mistaken. Our goals are the same, if not our methods. I've heard of you, and your work, but you arrived so quickly, I wasn't able to pass the messages along, quickly enough to prevent the catastrophe, I'm afraid." He sighs again, and leans back, looking very old and tired, and he can see why; in a moment of weakness, he lets Draiss see the hundreds of tiny threads, branching out from him, lead out of the room, presumably to the hundreds of empowered mortals he has, working around the region, every one of them siphoning a significant amount of energy off of him.