Oh, yeah...
I forgot about this thread when I took that page down.
Here, guys. Sorry.
My name is Seregon of the Black Flames, or Seregon Blackflame for short. You may also call me Yarulion if you like. I\'ll answer to any of them. The point is not what you call me, it is why. But that will come later. You asked a question, and I will humor you with an answer, for now.
Eons ago there was a beautiful elven woman named Firiel. She was a grey elf, but she did not believe as they believed. You see, the grey elves did not believe that the elven blood was meant to intermingle freely with the blood of other humanoid creatures, no matter how close to elves they may seem to be. While Firiel was picking berries in the wood, more as a game than as a chore, she came upon a man, standing in the middle of a clearing. He made no motion even when she came near, only looking straight upwards as if he had never noticed her.
\"Odd,\" she thought, \"for if he is sleeping as the elvenkind do, meditating on all that they see in the sky, then surely he is still awake enough to notice my approach.\" He did not seem to, however, and she continued her cautious movements. When she was near enough that she could reach out and touch him, she did so, and she was greeted by the warmest glance she had ever received. \"Such beautiful eyes,\" she thought to herself; \"such a beautiful body, and yet he cannot be of elvenkind. How is he so exquisitely beautiful if he has naught of the elven blood running through his veins?\" But before she could answer herself, she found herself passionately kissing him. She was not aware of how it began, only that she did not care, as it was the most wonderful joy and love she had yet experienced in her life. She spent the rest of that day and night with him, and it was not until morning that he spoke a single word to her.
\"My dear Firiel,\" said he--
\"But how do you know--\"
\"\'Tis all right, my darling. All shall be explained.\"
Firiel listened tearfully as her lover explained his predicament. He, too, had never seen anything more beautiful than when she approached. His meditation was only a sign of how lost he was in the internal struggle over whether or not he should accept this wonderful opportunity granted him by Fate. He told her that he believed they were meant to be together that day, but that it was impossible for it to last.
You see, he -- my father -- was a diabolus (that\'s a demon for all you leatherheads out there). His life would indeed be restless were he to cease his spell-jamming ways and settle on a single Prime. So he left her with naught but a memory and a single gift, a tome, which would later be given to me. Two important things happened the day Firiel gave birth to me: Firiel died, and I earned my nickname for the first time.
When a half-child is born, it does not have the keen power to sense what the beings in its surroundings want to see and project that image for them. It simply looks like what it is. As one Ilkorin midwife put it, I was a yarulion, a blood-red monster. To this day I have blood-red skin, silvery hair, and bluish-green glowing eyes.
\"But what of the tome?\" you might be asking yourself. Very well. The tome was a book brought from Sigil, the City of Doors, that the daemon brought back on one of his frequent journeys there between spelljamming. It contained the knowledge of one of Sigil\'s main factions, or guilds, called the Transcendent Order. I raised myself on their philosophy and devoted myself to it. The other interesting thing about this book was an incantation, which when read aloud, gave me the knowledge of all the events prior to and leading up to my birth, from the point of view of Firiel. When I had read the incantation, it disappeared from the pages without a trace.
