Heralds
Strange, unearthly creatures, even the gods bow down when a Herald commands. Varying from indescribably beautiful to hideously dreadful in visage, the Heralds most commonly appear as a tall (seven to eight foot) humanoid who falls somewhere between Elf and Human in appearance. Wielding great swords and awesome power, their main purpose is to curtail the use of magic. No one is quite sure why they do this, although many scholars have theorized that it is because of magic's unstable tendencies, and the chance that too much spellcraft in one place could dangerously drain that area of life and power, leaving it blasted and ruined. Or perhaps too much magical use by a mortal would alter them or harm them in ways mortal ken cannot even begin to imagine.... Many believe that the Heralds fled from a world where magic had become used too much, destroying the dimension the Heralds dwelled on. Others think that the Heralds are the creator of the gods themselves, and still more think the gods created the Heralds to keep themselves in check. No one knows how many Heralds there are, and reports of encounters with them are wildly dissimilar.
First Guardians of Magic
From An Account of the Elven-Human War:
...At last, it was the land itself that caused the tides of battle to change. The S'Kra had developed, within a short span of a few years, a deadly magic that would destroy a large portion of the Human forces. On the day the spell was cast, the sky darkened and the air stilled, but the magic itself never completed, for at that moment the world met its first Guardians.
The Guardians, it is said, stepped out of nowhere, one male and one female. Both wore simple white robes and looked like a strange mix of Elven and Human. They drew up their arms and all the battlefield stilled as the entire forces felt their limbs grow heavy and unmovable. Then the Guardians said, in quiet voices that carried across the fields, that, while they cared little for the war, they did care for the magics being exchanged, and warned for a halt. They discouraged further abuse of the magic that was a gift to all races, and gave one final warning -- then vanished.
One warrior mage, whose name has since been trampled into the mud and forgotten, ignored the warning, proclaiming that he was more powerful than any Guardian. He invoked the great spell of destruction that the mages had been attempting to call down before -- and a bloom of white-hot fire burst up around him, incinerating everyone within a quarter mile radius -- which happened to include the entire Wind Clan of the S'Kra...
Second Guardians of Magic
In the year 368, on a fateful day known as The Day Magic Died, three Heralds took away Meraud's Gift under the notion that the mortals had abused their abilities.
Elide
You see Elide, a Herald. Her soft dusky skin barely contains a faint luminosity which lends an ethereal glow to the bright blue pupils of her pale silver eyes. Slightly pointed and gently curled ears are nearly hidden by the softly curling tresses of her bright white, nearly colorless hair, easing the sharp angles of her majestic features. The shimmering silver folds of her flowing robes barely conceal the hilt of a delicately tapered long sword. Brightly lacquered nails in alternating stripes of blue and silver draw attention to the delicate fingers of her long, graceful hands.
You clutch your head in pain.
Issendar
You see Issendar, a Herald. His dark glossy skin barely contains a soft luminosity which lends an eerie glow to the cool green pupils of his pale silver eyes. His bright white, nearly colorless hair, is pulled back from his sharply angled features and braided into an elaborate knot at the nape of his neck. The soft grey watersilk robe that barely conceals the hilt of an unusually long sword ripples softly, teasing the eye with the illusion of gently surging waves. Brightly lacquered nails in alternating stripes of green and silver draw attention to the long tapering fingers of his heavily veined hands.
You clutch your head in pain.
Kirmhara
You see Kirmhara, a Herald. The ritualistic scarring of her ebony skin pulses with an intense luminosity which lends an unnatural glow to the flashing gold pupils of her pale silver eyes. Slightly pointed, yet curled and somehow half formed ears are nearly hidden by her bright white, nearly colorless hair which cascades to her knees in spiky braids, lending a brittle edge to her sharply angled features. The incandescent flame red folds of her long flowing chiton barely conceal the hilt of a cruelly twisted long sword. Brightly lacquered nails in alternating stripes of red and gold draw attention to the long tapering fingers of her long, boney hands.
You clutch your head in pain.