Arcane Powers

Introduction:

The Veil itself remains indifferent—its nature lies not in who claims it or why, but in what they forge from its depths. On Acaron, where wars and rites have twisted it most, it surges as a potent weapon—those who command it craft tools of rule, weapons of ruin, and curses of dread, reshaping the galaxy in their image. On the shattered world of Vorithra, the few surviving texts envisioned it as a guide—a tool to help others, defend the weak, and protect the galaxy in pursuit of true peace.

The arcane is a rare and perilous force, as unyielding as the galaxy it binds.

The Essence of Arcane Power:

The Veil is the galaxy’s pulse—a boundless, unshaped force that flows through all existence, from the dust of Acaron’s flats to the shattered spires of Vorithra. It is no deity or judge; it bends to those who can seize it, its form dictated by the mind and method of its wielder. Neither light nor shadow dwells within it—only potential, raw and unyielding, awaiting the hands that mold it.

How one draws from the Veil defines its yield. The Veyd, rooted in the teachings of Vorithra’s lost sanctuaries, channel it through stillness and discipline—a tempered focus that turns the Veil into a shield, a balm, or a guiding thread. Their arts, born of patience and a will to mend, reflect a vision of the galaxy held in balance, its chaos tamed by clarity. The Draethar, forged in Acaron’s blood-soaked rites, pull it through passion and sacrifice—emotions like rage, grief, or ambition igniting the Veil into tools of ruin, dominion, or dread. Their power thrives on intensity, breaking limits to reshape reality in their image.

Yet these are not the Veil’s only faces. Its essence shifts with intent and origin—where it’s drawn matters as much as how. On Acaron, steeped in war and ritual, the Veil carries a jagged edge, amplifying acts of will and violence. In Vorithra’s ruins, its echoes linger softer, resonant with faded vows of protection. Other worlds, other minds, yield other forms—some whisper of necromancers raising horrors from the Veil’s depths, others of seers threading thoughts like a web. The Veil is a mirror, reflecting the wielder’s soul and the ground they stand on—a tool as varied as the galaxy, its limits known only to those who dare to test them.

Learning and Sensitivity to the Veil:

Veil sensitivity is a scarce trait, surfacing in roughly one in a thousand across the galaxy’s species—a quirk of flesh and blood, absent in machines or constructs. It’s not a talent earned but a mark of birth, tied to a deep, living thread within the Veil’s currents. Some species—like the Acaronians—show it more often, their war-torn lineage steeped in Acaron’s jagged energies; others, like the fringe-world scavengers, rarely feel its pull. Mechanized beings, stripped of organic roots, remain blind to it, suggesting the Veil favors life over steel.

Harnessing this sensitivity demands more than instinct—training hones it, knowledge sharpens it, and belief binds it to the wielder’s will. For the Veyd, mastery came through years of training, meditation and study in Vorithra’s halls, forging a link to the Veil’s calm echoes. The Draethar temper it in Acaron’s rites—blood spilled, emotions stoked—anchoring their power in the planet’s raw, twisted flow. Without a strong tie to the Veil’s source—be it a world, a relic, or even a creed—the gift withers, leaving the sensitive as mere conduits, burned out by what they cannot hold. It’s a brutal craft—those who falter are consumed, their potential snuffed by the very force they sought to command.

Arcane Powers and Philosophies:

The Veyd:

The Veyd once drew the Veil through discipline and focus, a craft honed in the sanctuaries of Vorithra—where peace once steadied their hands. Their powers are precise, enduring, and forged for guardianship—mending, shielding, or standing firm—echoes of an extinct creed that sought to balance a galaxy now lost to ruin.

Among the Veyd powers:

• Vital Weave: By threading the Veil into flesh, Veyd mend wounds or purge toxins—self or others—through a trance that taps the Veil’s faint, soothing hum. A gash seals in moments; a venom fades with a breath—its cost is focus, not blood, a toll that leaves the weary drained.
• Thought Echo: The Veil unveils every tongue—spoken or etched—by resonating with the intent behind words. A dying foe’s rasp or a ruin’s faded glyph unravels clear as their own voice, a gift of Vorithra’s silent wisdom.
• Calm Pulse: A ripple of Veil energy steadies minds nearby—fear dulls, rage ebbs—casting a fleeting stillness over chaos. Used in parleys or skirmishes, it sways hearts or buys time, though iron wills can push it aside.
• Soul Lash: With a flick of will, Veyd lash out psychically— a sharp, invisible thread of Veil energy that stings the mind, sowing pain or hesitation in foes. It’s a warning, not a killing blow—meant to ward off, precise and draining to wield.
• Fear’s Mirror: Veyd project a foe’s deepest dread— a fleeting illusion drawn from their own thoughts—snakes coiling, blades flashing—disorienting attackers long enough to retreat or strike. It’s subtle, fragile against the fearless, but cuts deeper with focus.
• Will Bastion: A mental shield, forged through years of meditation, deflects psychic assaults—mind-rends falter, terror slides away—keeping the Veyd’s thoughts their own. It’s a wall of clarity, stubborn but not invincible.
• Veil Trance: In battle, Veyd sink into a deep focus—pain dims, wounds slow their grip—letting them endure past mortal limits. Some fight for hours, even days, blades ringing through gashes that should kill, sustained by the Veil’s steady pulse.
• Mind Thread: Veyd with honed skill slip into thoughts—not to dominate, but to unravel—pulling secrets, planting doubt, or reading intent. It’s a delicate art, taxing to wield, and risks a lash-back from guarded minds.
• Echoes of the Fallen: Masters summon spectral shades—long-dead Veyd warriors or sages—from the Veil’s memory. These forms wield phantom blades or murmur guidance, brief but fierce, shifting a fight’s tide or illuminating a path—tied to Vorithra’s lost voices.
• Veil Ward: A shimmering barrier of Veil energy flares at a Veyd’s call—blunting blows, scattering projectiles—for moments long enough to shield kin or self. It’s a reflex act, born of discipline, fading fast but cutting harm’s edge.
• Rift Strike: Channeling the Veil into a focused burst, Veyd unleash a crackling arc—not raw lightning, but a honed pulse—that sears flesh or shatters steel. It’s a rare, defensive lash—used to repel, not pursue—its toll a tremor in the wielder’s frame.

The Draethar:

The Draethar seize the Veil through emotion and sacrifice, their arts forged in Acaron’s blood-drenched rites—raw, chaotic, and relentless. Their powers shatter, dominate, and defy, a mirror to their will to rule the galaxy unbroken.

Among the Draethar powers:

• Blood Rite: Through spilled vitality—theirs or others’—Draethar twist the Veil into summons (clawed, void-born horrors), curses (flesh wastes, minds fracture), or boons (strength swells, wounds clot). Each act gambles life for power, a pact sealed in crimson.
• Wrath Surge: Pain or fury ignites a surge—muscles harden, blows crush bone—turning the Draethar into a tempest of flesh. Blood spilled in rite or battle fuels it higher, though collapse stalks the edge of such frenzy.
• Veil Pyre: A dark flame leaps from their hands—black, searing—gnawing steel and soul alike. It clings, spreads, and burns unquenched, a mark of Acaron’s wrath, bent by will alone.
• Mind Rend: Emotion drives psychic talons into others—fear erupts, wills buckle, thoughts twist to serve. It’s crude, savage—strong minds resist, but the frail break under its weight.
• Life Siphon: Draethar drain essence—flesh shrivels, breath gutters—feeding their own vitality. Masters, steeped in Acaron’s rites, stretch their lives across millennia, hollow husks propped by stolen years—a vampirism born of the Veil’s greed.
• Grave Call: Necromantic mastery tears corpses from death—bound as thralls, hulking rot-beasts or silent husks to serve. The Veil’s backlash is fierce—casters risk their own flesh rotting in trade.
• Undeath: Draethar with emotion fierce enough cling to life beyond reason—fatal blows falter, death’s grip slips—held together by rage or will. They endure as broken, relentless shells, each wound a scar of defiance, until the Veil claims them whole.
• Wraith Ascent: At death, the mightiest meld with the Veil, rising as wraiths—shadows that seize flesh or stone, tainting all they touch. Acaron’s temples bear their scars, a legacy of ruin unbound.
• Death Shroud: A coiling Veil-mist armors the Draethar—blunting strikes, dulling pain—a shroud of shadow to preserve their own skin. It drinks blood spilled nearby to endure, a selfish guard against the end.
• Soul Shackle: With a guttural chant, Draethar bind a foe’s essence—slowing their step, sapping their strength— a tether of Veil-energy that drags them down. It’s a leash to outlast, not aid—cast to survive a duel’s end.
• Blight Strike: A surge of Veil-taint erupts from their touch—flesh blisters, metal corrodes—a rotting pulse to cripple foes closing in. It’s a warlock’s curse, meant to ward off, not slaughter outright.
• Choke Aura: A miasma of Veil-energy roils around the Draethar—choking lungs, dimming sight, searing skin—of those who draw near. Fed by their rage or bloodlust, it lashes out in a tight radius, a storm of harm to scatter the bold, its grip as cruel as Acaron’s rites.

Shared Veil Powers

The Veil’s core yields abilities both Veyd and Draethar wield—fundamental threads of its nature, shaped by neither creed nor world, but by the raw act of grasping it. These powers are the bedrock of all who touch the Veil, honed by will alone, their reach as broad as the galaxy’s chaos.

• Veil Grip: Objects or foes bend to thought—lifted, hurled, crushed, or choked—a versatile force scaled by focus or fury, its limits tied to the wielder’s resolve. A blade floats, a throat tightens—simple, brutal utility.
• Shadow Veil: Blending into darkness, they fade from sight—steps muffled, forms dim—whether stalking prey or dodging steel, a trick of the Veil’s edge. It cloaks the hunter and the hunted alike.
• Memory Forge: Knowledge locks in—every word, code, or glyph seared into recall—absorbed swift and held eternal, a mind whetted by the Veil’s touch. Secrets unravel with a glance, forgotten only by choice.
• Veil Sense: Reflexes snap, senses sharpen, intellect slices—heightened beyond flesh—letting them evade blows, pierce lies, or spot threats in a heartbeat. The Veil turns instinct to a blade’s edge.
• Veil Step: A flicker of will shifts them through space—short, sharp leaps across a room or battlefield—leaving a ripple of shadow behind. It’s no vast journey, but enough to flank or flee, born of the Veil’s fluid pull.
• Echo Pulse: A burst of Veil energy hums outward—mapping surroundings, revealing the hidden—walls part, cloaks fail, life flickers in the dark. It’s a hunter’s tool, crude but keen, shared by all who feel the Veil.
• Vital Spark: The Veil stokes their core—staving off fatigue, dulling hunger—for hours or days beyond flesh’s limit. It’s no healing, just endurance—a stubborn thread to outlast the weak, fueled by the Veil’s hum.
• Veil Mark: With a touch or glare, they brand a target—person, object, ground—with a faint Veil-glyph, unseen but felt. It tracks across miles, a tether for pursuit or ambush, fading only when will wanes.