The Arbiters of Veritas
The Arbiters of Veritas
The Arbiters of Veritas trace their origin to the night Veritas hurled the Veilstar—his living testament—across the northern firmament. As the comet’s argent light flooded the world, countless souls slept under its glow and awoke forever changed. Across plains, forests, and shattered ruins, individuals discovered constellations etched beneath their flesh, each glyph bearing the symbol of Veritas’s all-seeing eye. These marked ones called themselves Arbiters, believing the god of truth had chosen them to carry his divine lamp into every dark corner of existence.
Central to Arbiter practice is the Vigil of Unveiled Shadows, observed at every full moon in luminescent amphitheaters carved from Veilstar-cratered stone. Arbiters gather in concentric rings around a shallow basin engraved with the sigil of the Eye and pour holy water into its center. Under the basin’s rippling surface, their tattoos shimmer and shift, projecting fragments of visions granted by Veritas: hidden lies laid bare, secret betrayals flickering like dying embers, and moments of absolute clarity where reality itself trembles. As each vision is spoken aloud, the assembly weighs its implications, guided by a senior Arbiter known as the Lensbearer.
Outside the sanctuaries, attitudes toward the Arbiters range from awe to terror. Clerics of Veritas hail them as living oracles whose judgments can cleanse entire cities, while skeptics decry them as prophets of paranoia, their ever-watchful eyes breeding suspicion among neighbors. Rulers court their favor in hopes of unmasking corruption, even as merchants deal in “Truthshards”—fragments of Veilstar glass said to capture fleeting insights into hidden motives. Rumors swirl that prolonged exposure to these shards can drive mortals mad, consumed by an unrelenting thirst for absolute honesty.
In less than a year, Arbiter enclaves have sprouted wherever the Veilstar’s light lingered—on ice-bound tundras, parched desert mesas, and deep within primeval woodlands. Each enclave is constructed without doors or curtains, for privacy is considered an illusion before the Eye of Veritas. Daily councils convene in open-air forums beneath star-etched banners, where even the smallest whisper may be called to account. Their guiding maxim, “Bear the Light, Bereft of Shadows,” echoes through vaulted halls and caravan camps alike, reminding every Arbiter that true transformation demands both revelation and relentless courage.
As gossip of cosmic scrutiny spreads, some marked souls retreat into hermitage, yearning to disguise their tattoos and reclaim anonymity. Yet the most devoted Arbiters press on, convinced that to bear Veritas’s mark is not a curse but an invitation: to become living conduits of an eternal beacon, illuminating a world fraught with hidden darkness and half-remembered lies.
Central to Arbiter practice is the Vigil of Unveiled Shadows, observed at every full moon in luminescent amphitheaters carved from Veilstar-cratered stone. Arbiters gather in concentric rings around a shallow basin engraved with the sigil of the Eye and pour holy water into its center. Under the basin’s rippling surface, their tattoos shimmer and shift, projecting fragments of visions granted by Veritas: hidden lies laid bare, secret betrayals flickering like dying embers, and moments of absolute clarity where reality itself trembles. As each vision is spoken aloud, the assembly weighs its implications, guided by a senior Arbiter known as the Lensbearer.
Outside the sanctuaries, attitudes toward the Arbiters range from awe to terror. Clerics of Veritas hail them as living oracles whose judgments can cleanse entire cities, while skeptics decry them as prophets of paranoia, their ever-watchful eyes breeding suspicion among neighbors. Rulers court their favor in hopes of unmasking corruption, even as merchants deal in “Truthshards”—fragments of Veilstar glass said to capture fleeting insights into hidden motives. Rumors swirl that prolonged exposure to these shards can drive mortals mad, consumed by an unrelenting thirst for absolute honesty.
In less than a year, Arbiter enclaves have sprouted wherever the Veilstar’s light lingered—on ice-bound tundras, parched desert mesas, and deep within primeval woodlands. Each enclave is constructed without doors or curtains, for privacy is considered an illusion before the Eye of Veritas. Daily councils convene in open-air forums beneath star-etched banners, where even the smallest whisper may be called to account. Their guiding maxim, “Bear the Light, Bereft of Shadows,” echoes through vaulted halls and caravan camps alike, reminding every Arbiter that true transformation demands both revelation and relentless courage.
As gossip of cosmic scrutiny spreads, some marked souls retreat into hermitage, yearning to disguise their tattoos and reclaim anonymity. Yet the most devoted Arbiters press on, convinced that to bear Veritas’s mark is not a curse but an invitation: to become living conduits of an eternal beacon, illuminating a world fraught with hidden darkness and half-remembered lies.
