You see a towering figure draped in flowing, rune-stitched cloth. Its wings stretch wide, feathers glowing pale white. Above its head hovers a single burning eye, unmoving, casting no shadow yet banishing all beneath it.
The Veilwardens are the sacred custodians of the Cycle of Rebirth, charged with guiding lost souls who, through torment or curse, have failed to cross into the afterlife. Where mortal prayers and rites falter, the Veilwardens walk the boundary between life and death, their presence a balm that dissolves grief, hatred, and rage from even the most broken spirits.
They are the chosen creations of Adon, the radiant Goddess of Spirits, who once ruled unchallenged over the vast realm of the dead. Under her divine light, Veilwardens worked in unity to ensure no soul was forgotten or left to rot in pain.
Veilwardens are primordial beings of Light, born not of flesh but of divine will and radiant purpose. Their forms are tall and androgynous, sculpted entirely from glowing alabaster light. They bear luminous wings, great and angelic, which shimmer like moonlight upon still waters. Their bodies are wrapped in flowing spiritual cloth, ever-shifting with faint patterns of ghostly runes—markings only the dead can truly read.
Above each Veilwarden’s head floats a burning, ever-gazing eye of light, a mysterious and divine presence whispered by some to be the Eye of Adon herself, watching over every soul they touch. This eye sees not flesh but soul—it discerns truth from deceit, purity from corruption, and peace from unrest.
Though they wield incredible might, Veilwardens are gentle in spirit, their presence meant to soothe, not command. They do not speak as mortals do; instead, their voices resonate within the soul, a calming sensation of home and release. When unopposed, they simply guide, touch, and usher the dead toward peace, causing even wailing banshees to fall silent in reverence.
They do not hunger, they do not sleep, and they do not judge.
But they do defend.
When demons defile the lands of the dead, when necromancers enslave the departed, when the natural balance is disturbed—Veilwardens become holy warriors, unleashing radiant fury upon those who dare to disrupt the sacred Cycle. With a gesture, they can unravel the soul from its husk, and with a glare, they can blind even the most cunning spirit.
The balance shattered when the Darkness—a force unknown, ancient, and malignant—struck down Adon in her radiant sanctum. With her divine essence fractured, the land of the dead wept, and the Veilwardens fell into chaos.
Some stood firm in their purpose, gathering the lost and defending the crumbling bridges of rebirth. Others, adrift without Adon’s will to anchor them, grew unstable—some even succumbed to corruption, their light twisted into cold malice.
The most tragic fate of all is reserved for the Soul Reapers—Veilwardens who turned their backs on their holy duty, seduced by promises whispered by demons in the void. They wield darkness like a scythe and prey on the souls they once sought to save. Some steal them to strengthen their cursed forms, while others deliver them to darker masters.
The Veilwardens hate the Soul Reapers not out of vengeance, but from sorrow. Each corrupted warden is a lost sibling, a fragment of what was once a perfect unity. When they encounter one, they unleash relentless judgment, stopping at nothing to restore or destroy the fallen.
Yet, Soul Reapers have learned to mask themselves. Each carries a forbidden relic—The Mask of the Guilty, a cursed item that cloaks them from the Eye of Adon. To truly destroy a Soul Reaper, a Veilwarden must strip them of this protection… and gaze into the corrupted light that still flickers within.
Environment:
Angelic beings are celestial warriors and messengers, bound in unwavering servitude to the gods. Their existence remains hidden from mortal eyes, known only to the most devout priests, priestesses, and holy figures. They are summoned in times of great need, when darkness threatens to consume the world, acting as either the guiding voice of their deity or the sword that smites all evil from existence.
The form of an Angelic is not fixed; it bends to the perception of those who witness them. To the faithful, they may appear as noble figures of radiance, taking on the likeness of a man or woman adorned in flowing robes of woven light. But to those they oppose, they are an overwhelming presence of pure brilliance—an ethereal figure with vast, luminous wings, their very form too intense for mortal eyes to comprehend. Their voice is neither male nor female, but a celestial resonance that shakes the soul.
Angelic warriors do not enter battle unarmed. They wield flaming swords, forged from divine fire that never dims, able to cleave through darkness and sin alike. Their shields, engraved with holy inscriptions, repel the corruption of demons and undead, standing as unbreakable bulwarks against the encroaching abyss. When they strike, it is not just steel that meets flesh but divine judgment itself, reducing their foes to ash with righteous fury.
Ancient scriptures foretell of a time when the Angelic will descend in great numbers, clashing with the legions of darkness in battles that shake the heavens and sunder the earth. Where they tread, the land burns with divine fire, and the remnants of war leave only scorched ruins in their wake. The war between light and darkness is eternal, and the Angelic are its unyielding soldiers, forever waging battle in the name of their divine masters.
Bound to their deity’s will, the Angelic do not know hesitation, nor do they question their purpose. Whether guiding lost souls, delivering divine edicts, or waging war against evil’s relentless tide, they exist only to serve. And when the gods call upon them, they will descend once more, their swords blazing, their wings unfurled, ready to turn the battlefield to embers in their endless crusade.