Harrow Glades
Behind the constant whine of insects skimming your ears, a chorus of haunting cries emanates from the dark that utterly pervades this swamp. Shapeless figures catch the corner of your eye, hiding among st gnarled trees twisted into grotesque forms. A beaten path through the muck winds from the East Valley of Totality to Evernight Plateau.
This plane is inaccessible to unsphered dreamers.
Connecting Planes
Also See
Map
Plane History
Harrow Glades by unknown
The Harrow Glades was created by a single generator, placed jointly by House Calenture and Gathering of the Entranced. As the trees on both the Houses planes had been demolished for ease of use, each desired a place to relax, and enjoy nature.
In order to let the glades develop naturally.. they created a single generator (the small lighting charge we see) which spawned the entire area. Unfortunately, as nature is chaotic by it's very being, it has been affected by the growing chaos more than most others.
Along with the growing vegetation the Harrow Glades is home to several interesting creatures as well as an interesting tree that houses a Dreamer by the name of Alder.
The Story of Rovalith and the Glade
The pleasant aroma of Harrow Glades was smothering as it filled Rovalith’s nostrils. Rovalith meant death in the Ancient Tongue, but not as a noun; a verb. He had chosen it when They chose him, and the name fit his personality in a chilling way. He was akin to a child then.
The memories came of their own accord.
It had barely been a year since his Awakening, and he was well on his way to becoming an influential dreamer, though his humility made it seem he never noticed his rising fame. It was true, he was Lord-Captain of the City Guard, those dreamers who had dedicated their time to ensure the safety of the City above any adversary, beast or dreamer. “Dreamer” was an odd addition to him at the time, no dreamer would have harmed the City, it was unthinkable. But, the pledge was drafted in the earliest days of the Guard, when dreamers ravaged the City as frequently as the beasts did.
A Gatekeeper in focus and personality, he was stoic in his resolve, or so it seemed. His teacher and mentor, Humald, had begun his murmurs of something greater, something beyond his dreams. It was when he started to listen that the naive dreamer began his path to Rovalith.
Rovalith’s mirthless chuckle echoed momentarily before the strong bark of the trees and the clutching swath of vines absorbed the sound. Humald had shown him the way, but it was the meaning behind Rovalith’s name that saw him surpass his former teacher. He wondered idly if any dreamer, now or in the distant future, would find Humald’s bones in the deep recesses of Albino Caves.
He shielded his eyes with a hand from the bright sun that was so constant in Harrow Glades. He pulled his cowl tighter, its blackness in stark contrast to the verdant green of the Glades lit by strong sunlight overhead. Tonight would forever mark the City, a sort of permanence that could not be eradicated no matter how feverishly one tried; some stains are indelible. They had chosen the Glades deliberately. They would bleed their darkness into the richest evidence of life in the City, and from its core would seep the tendrils of their malcontent.
Rovalith wasn’t on time. He purposely arrived late to make the others wait, to remind them with every meeting that they waited for his word, and could not proceed without him. Humald had said he grew so strong because he had been so honorable. Something about the need to be adhered to a cause being so deep in Rovalith’s spirit that it could only grow when it shifted, instead of wane. It wasn’t something Rovalith understood or really even dwelled on, Seers were full of such useless blabbering.
The other five sat in an incomplete circle, a void at the Northern most section meant for Rovalith himself. They hurriedly stood as he came into view. He ignored the bows and reverent murmurs of “Hail, Shadow’s Master,” as he took his place, a curt gesture placing each on the ground where they had been.
He wasn’t fond of long speeches, and it wasn’t like anyone would remember the words after he had said them, beyond himself, of course.
“Tonight, the Forsaken rises.” Fitting, he thought, “Forsaken” could be singular or plural. He allowed the smile to breach his lips, they would probably misplace it as an eagerness to see their small coalition rise publicly.
“You all know what must happen, and the sacrifice that must be paid.” They all nodded, most of their eyes nervous or fearful. “Let us begin,” he said simply.
With that he activated his namesake once again, but at a level previously unfathomable. It would be a night of firsts. Willing participants, all of them. He had made sure, it was required. He extended his Will outward, literally and metaphysically ripping the souls from the five around him, one by one. Their wails permeated the plane and continued on and on ceaselessly. Their bodies were limp and animated at the same time, a seizure of sorts that accompanied their wails. The sound hurt Rovalith’s ears, in truth it seeped into his very soul, the audacity of what he had done being strong enough to make him pause. The five soul essences were before him, their owners dead yet still imprisoned by the heinous action they had just committed willingly.
He crushed each underfoot, the wails stopping abruptly, one by one, at each breaking. I bet they didn’t see that coming, he thought with a touch of dark humor. The City seemed to take up their wail when they could not, a vibration of sorts that rocked the entire plane and would no doubt be felt throughout the entire City. It wouldn’t be long until he was discovered. Empowered by the soul essences he had destroyed, he looked inward and began the process of wrenching his own soul essence from his body. He pain struck him like a hammer, and he realized that his own, uncontrollable wails melded seamlessly into the sound he assumed the City itself was making.
It seemed to go on for eons, and just when he thought the pain would unravel his own sanity, it stopped. He looked around. He was in Threshold, seemingly unharmed. Wait-- he clutched something. Opening his palm, he saw it. A soul essence, its sea-colored hues pulsing with an inner energy. He laughed, this time a sound full of mirth and darkness that it surprised him. Stopping abruptly, he laughed again, the darkness rich in his ears. He had paid the price. Sense Dreamer provided what he expected, a horde of dreamers either in or moving toward Harrow Glades. He knew what they would find. The darkness of his deed would be strongest at the epicenter.
He smiled to himself, tucked his soul essence in his pack, and began his steps toward the Glade himself. He practiced the shock that would be expected upon seeing the ravaged Glade, it's beautiful greenery and amber hues of sunlight replaced by the encompassing darkness of dread. It would be the same shock his enemies would feel if they ever tried to Strike him. He laughed again and stepped through the portal.
The Forsaken has risen.
by Kenra
Gallery
