Influenced by R.A. Salvatore, Michael Moorcock, and the many characters I have created over the years, I give unto you this Prequel to "The Breaking Plane"

This is about Jeryl and how he came to be, and the fact that I wanted to see how well this cooperates with Sohmer's "Legarion" (Hopefully this doesn't contradict anything good...)

Warning: This may get too close to Michael Moorcock's Imrryr The Dreaming City (From the book "Elric of Melnibone"), Mournblade and Stormbringer (Same book), and to R.A. Salvatore's Menzoberranzan from his many Drizzt books. Also, be warned, that some of these characters are reflective from my RPs with different names (like Vaelon being a weaker version of "Aramil") Read with caution!

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In the underground caverns of Legarion, known as the Sunderblight, the dark and mysterious creatures roamed, stalking and maiming all who invade the eternal darkness of Below. The perpetual shadows ruled the underworld, allowing no one claim. These entities were known as the drow, the superior race of Subterranean Legarion. Masters of the Shadows and founders of the dark arts, the mysterious, paradoxical race plague the many caverns... And within those caverns, they have cities. Ruled by the cruelty of the beautiful and venomous females, the drow live in orderly, chaotic societies, known for intrigue and terrors unknown.

Our tale shall begin with the ancient city of T'tlavasskren, where chaos was constant, though contained in an orderly frame of beauty and faux-realities.

The Slumbering City...

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Vaelon, the mysterious three-thousand year old elf whose blood is tainted with the Daemon Plague, sat at his black-oak desk, reading a tome of ancient value. 'Twas the history of Legarion, with the lore of how the world began, ending with Prophecies of "The End" and "The Rebirth". The Cycles of Time's Circle, never-ending, were vastly recorded, though vaguely and some quite roughly translated. There he sat, reading through the great tome, only to be interrupted by a floating blue orb of light, the echoing hollowness of a melodic voice resonating from its luminary existence.

"Vaelon, your assistance is needed." Spoke the hollow orb of light.

"Another War, I presume?" Asked he, his jade eyes looking away uncaringly.

"...And much more," it added slyly, not at all perturbed by Vaelon's careless tone. "Please, come. You will find it most amusing, I assure you."

Vaelon showed no emotion. In a fluid motion, two broadswords of the purest black iron. A black resonance engulfed the blades and the elf, whose silver hair flits about his body like a storm of steel. With a pale finger, he tapped the air, which caused the worldly particles of normalcy to fold away, revealing a dark cavern. Pulling his black cloak about him, Vaelon walked through, the blue orb following him. It became a hollow, purple flame within the blackness of Sunderblight as the portal closed.

After hours of wandering, Vaelon found himself in the Slumbering City of T'tlavasskren, the faerie fires giving a blue, white, and purple glow. Yellow-green orbs floated about, chained to one another, giving the place an awry beauty... almost like a dream.

Though, accustomed to the paradoxical underworld, the elf wandered farther in, his youthful frame a mesmerizing image in the dream-like kingdom.

nice one, i wanna know how that continue, so post more pls

T'tlavasskrenn was a magnificent city, its purple glow of faerie fire soft and velvet-like against the darkness of shadow of the Sunderblight. The stalactites hung from the ceiling of the low layer of earth, its beauty being in its abnormal spiral form, with light emitting from its inside. Many drow houses were upon the high ceilings, but only the rich and powerful. Though, high above and in the heart of the city where a swirling mist of sunrise and sunset resonated from a deep pit (their ancient clock, Sol'skrren,) an inverted castle resided, the many spires dangling like thrown spears, frozen in time and space. Rather than being a beautiful, swirling violet like that of the other houses, this one was green with flickering black wisps. 'Twas a grand castle, dangling like a chandelier, though many others prayed that this castle fell into the Clock of Twilight, forever banishing their time and order. Intrigue and Chaos was their one and only love, for these drow, but the most powerful matriarchy seized the impossible... Power. And there, their Empress of Dusk, resided within the inverted castle, within the central tower which hung lower than all the others, giving birth to a child. An heir. Her first warrior.

The elf paused as he made his way about the stalagmite mounds, some large enough to be castles, others to be singular towers; eyeing Castle Pandemonium with a strange sense of longing. As Vaelon made a move forward, a figure appeared from behind a mound, making naught a sound and blending in with the green, lavendar, and black imagery. The slender form was engulfed entirely of midnight blue robes with a swirling grey-green high-collared cloak. He wore his robes hood low, enmasking his face in utter shadow. Upon his hip, within the dark, mahogany leather belt, sat an interesting blade, its silver bulbs and guard glistening ominously, much like their amethyst counter-parts. The sheathe was blackened leather with silver plating. Nothing about the strange entity made a sound or even a hint that he was real.

"Ah, Lord Vaelon..." spoke the chameleon; his voice, once being harmonious, was distorted and shadowy, the honey-sweet voice now discordant notes of a broken harp. An unending sorrow and rage could be felt. "'Tis nice to see you here..."

(I'll add more later, I have to go.)