The Gods of Dark Swell

Reaching down next to where he sat, one of the six took hold of a small rod.  Made of no material found within Dark Swell, it held within it the power for one within their realm to harness the weather.  To bend it to their will for a time.
There was no other item more expensive in the Game.  In all the worlds created before this one, none had been able to procure it; until now. It was worth ninety generations of resources combined.
The Gamer who now held the rod had sat back for years with no influence, his plan decided upon two thousand years ago.   He had known it was a considerable risk he took, but he believed it would work for him in the end. 
Yet for most of those two millennia, things had not gone as he had foreseen or hoped.
Looking at the rod, he basked in the realisation that events had somehow come together. He was suddenly in a position where he could still be the one to prevail.  
Now he decided to gamble once more, but it was no greater risk than any other he had made before this day.
Right up until today he had intended to give the rod to another within his realm.  That had been his intent for a long time. 
Yet his mind was sharp and he believed his skills at evaluating the cause and effect of decisions was unequalled within this game. 
Another path had opened to him that might still see him victorious and he was excited by it.   
His thoughts moved fast and continued to calculate the likely outcomes against those less likely.  His confidence grew in the choice he now made.  
With a flick of his wrist; a small movement that belittled the game-changing occasion it represented; the rod was cast through his eye and into the world of Dark Swell. 
Unerringly it fell, the end of the rod lodging itself into the hard rock at the feet of an elf. 

Standing alone on the out crag of a mountain, the elf looked down at it with a bemused look on his face.  He hadn’t sensed it coming.  Strange he thought, as he looked up into the sky above him. He saw nothing flying above and there was nowhere from which it could have fallen or been cast. This part of the mountain had no overhang and no peak nearby.  There was nothing but the empty sky above him. 
Turning back to the rod, the elf bent down and grasped hold of it. To his surprise it came easily out of the rock. 
He could not take his eyes from it; eyes that burned with the colour of rich flames.  Within the rod he saw swirling clouds.  A faint breeze blew from one end of it.
There were no archaic words spoken within his mind and no runes upon the surface of the rod.  It was smooth and dark, yet somehow he knew what it was the moment he grasped hold of it.  As he peered at it, an item more breathtaking than anything he had ever seen before, he inextricably knew exactly how to use it.
With his heart beating fast and a crooked smile on his face, he raised the rod, pointed it to the sky and called forth the powers of the storm.
    
The gamer placed his arm back onto his lap and continued to gaze into his eye. He didn’t intend going anywhere in the near future, even had he been given a choice.  
A small grin formed on his face, which quickly turned into a larger one. 
If his eyes weren’t all white they would have sparkled.