Mistarion

Oot interrogates a history Mistarion cannot confirm, because it isn't in him anymore — each rumor a coat held up by a stranger: try this one on. He meditates through the alarm. What finally moves him isn't the open gate; it's the word library. Parchment. Ink. A scroll of Witch Bolt with his name on it. The null field thins the moment they leave the block and he can feel the weave again, like blood returning to a slept-on arm. He is not escaping a prison. He is going to get his mind back, one page at a time.

A friendly person, as long as you remain in his good graces. If you do not, he can be rather petty and vindictive — graver insults lead to grave injury. As an older elf, he may be a bit set in his ways and bristle at new situations, but he handles it with the grace and stoicism of all great elves. He is rarely shaken, or at least appears that way.

For all this, Mistarion can mostly be found meditating. Largely unconcerned with the politics of prison life, his time is dominated by a lack of memories — a troublesome burden for a wizard of his talents. What kind of diviner is unable to divine the past of his own mind? Left only with a calling to the stars, even without a window, he "sees" beyond the confines of this physical prison. Something any observer can discern in just a short while.

The rumors about how he lost those memories do not agree with each other. A dive into magic that went too deep, too fast, and left two people dead. A bargain that burned a memory for every glimpse of the future. Something slimy and red spooning out his childhood while he slept. He can confirm none of them, which is precisely the problem.