Plateau of Leng
Host Plane: Faerie
In the furthest reaches of the Otherworld, beyond the kingdoms of even the most solitary fey, foolhardy travelers may find themselves at the precipice of a place known only as the Tall Grass. This seemingly endless field of slender green blades stands in unnerving silence, untouched by wind, yet swaying in a rhythm that does not belong to this world. Above it stretches a starless sky, a void of night that drinks in all light, marking the threshold of something even the Sylvan Courts fear to name: The Dreamlands.
These lands were never meant to be. The Otherworld is strange, certainly, but the madness that grows in the heart of the Dreamlands is not of fey origin. From beyond the Black Door at the end of everything, a seed of something alien came tumbling into reality — an intrusion so “other” that even the gods dared not intervene. At first, this seed found no purchase in the waking world, before it finally took root in the Realm of Dreams.
At its core festers Leng—The Nightmare Realm—an icy, inhospitable plateau of ruddy stone that looms with malice over the shifting dreamscape below. Here, time and space unravel, causing dreams to twist and curdle into horrors beyond description. Those who ascend its frozen ridges may find themselves walking corridors they have never seen but inexplicably remember. It is said that Leng is where the first nightmares were born, and that its wind-carved peaks drink the souls of dreamers who die in their sleep.
Some believe Leng is a beachhead for the Elder Gods, a wound in the very flesh of the Multiverse, a thin place where old, hungry things watch from just beyond the mind’s eye. The cults that whisper its name work tirelessly to hasten its expansion, believing that when the Plateau of Leng overtakes the Dreamlands, the Black Door will open once again. They are not entirely wrong — for every night, Leng grows, and its corruption spreads.
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