Helcarandor
Plane Walkers
Those Who Step Between Worlds
At the zenith of elven magical achievement stand the Helcarandor—Plane Walkers—those rare few who have mastered the perilous art of Táriporti, the traversal of realms beyond the known. Their journeys through the Doors to the Planes marked the height of Valaraith curiosity, threading discovery with danger, knowledge with sacrifice. Their presence in elven society was unmistakable. Draped in robes of deep gold and pale green, woven with thread laced in powdered Ciryathanor, they moved like echoes of distant worlds. The geometric patterns stitched into the cloth mirrored the unstable symmetry of interplanar resonance—a language of paths and possibilities known only to them.“You’ll know them not by the color of their robes, but by the way they listen to silence.”
Revered but Apart
The Helcarandor were not reclusive, yet their lives were lived on a different axis. Their focus on the cosmos and its unseen corridors often placed them outside the rhythms of daily life. They returned bearing glimpses of impossible landscapes and strange truths—but they spoke rarely of what they saw, and never without measure. While honored, they were also viewed with a quiet caution. The Plane Walkers walked among their people, but something in their gaze suggested they still heard other skies calling.“They are here, but not entirely. The further they walk, the more threadbare their tether to our world becomes.”
The Demands of Passage
Crossing the threshold between realms was never trivial. Táriporti demanded unwavering discipline, layered protections, and precise control of magical resonance. Even the most experienced among them returned drained in body and soul, the shifting planes leaving imprints not easily washed away. To recover, they sought sanctuaries woven into the deepest groves of Tathariel—spaces warded from all sound and distraction. There, they meditated, restored their inner harmonies, and let the songs of the world retune their sense of self.“Between every step, there must be stillness. Between every stillness, song.” Excerpt from Helcarandorië meditation rite
Legacy of the Threshold
The Helcarandor remain among the most revered and mysterious of the Valaraith. Their work was not conquest, but communion. They observed, they listened, they remembered—becoming living bridges between worlds. Though the Doors to the Planes are no longer opened as they once were, their lore, robes, and teachings endure. Their role in elven history is not one of open triumph, but quiet transformation. They did not chart the cosmos to tame it—but to understand, and to return changed.The Tether Crystal
A small shard of raw Ciryathanor, worn as a pendant by novice Helcarandor. It is charged before every journey and tied with a strand of woven thread from one’s kin. If the crystal pulses or fades mid-travel, the bearer must retreat at once—or risk never returning.
The Circle That Closed Itself
During the time before the first war, a cadre of five seasoned Helcarandor—elders by experience, if not always by years—returned from a joint excursion to a plane later stricken from the charts. They came back changed: not wounded, but quiet, with their songs shortened and their gaze forever tilted just slightly away from others. They convened in the high observatories of Lirionostarë, submitting a proposal that shocked the Council: Táriporti must be abandoned. Not sealed or restricted—abandoned entirely. Of what they had seen, they spoke only in fragments. “We were expected.”“It had our names, before we stepped through.”
“One of us never left… but there she stood, smiling on the other side.” The Council dismissed them kindly. Progress had already taken root, and too many had glimpsed too much. Curiosity, once awakened, is not easily silenced. The five never opened a portal again. They retired to a distant valley where even song flows slow. Their names are recorded in the annals, but no student speaks them aloud. Among those who study their works, the group is simply called:
The Circle That Closed Itself.
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