The Codices of the Outer Veil is a collection of three ancient tomes bound together in blackened, cracked leather, each bearing the sigils and symbols of long-forgotten deities and eldritch entities. Each spine is adorned with metallic inlays, forming arcane runes that correspond to the elements of chaos, creation, and oblivion.
The pages within these volumes are made of a peculiar, parchment-like material that is unnaturally smooth and cold to the touch. Intricate borders of intertwining vines, serpents, and shadowy figures frame the text, giving the impression that the reader is peering into a world that exists just beyond the veil of reality. The text itself contains fragmented lore on ancient gods and the Outer Gods. It is written in a mixture of languages, including Celestial, Infernal, and an unknown script that seems to shift and twist as one tries to read it.
The Dreambound
In the veil of slumber, where thought and form waver like mist, there lies a power. The Sleeper stirs, her breath the whisper of the wind through forgotten halls. When hope is lost and darkness reigns, only then shall her eyes open… if only for a moment.
The dreaming gates are many, yet few know their keys. Seek the Echo Pools beneath the Veilwood, or the mirrored stones within the Shattered Keep. When moonlight wanes, recite the Hymn of the Sleeper, and the path to the Silver Citadel may be revealed.
The Dreaming God slumbers beneath the world, her presence a balm to the wounded soul and a terror to those who delve too deeply. In her sleep, she sees all, and when she dreams, the world shifts. Beware the Call of the Sleeper, for should she awaken fully, reality itself may unravel. It is said that her body lies entombed within the mountains of Oris, a place lost to time, where the stars and the moon shine differently than anywhere else. Her followers, the Silent Dreamers, speak of a day when all will be consumed by the Great Dream—a world unmade and remade according to her whims.
It is in the hour of greatest despair, when the night is darkest and the wind howls through shattered homes, that she may be invoked. Draw a circle of salt, place within it an object of personal significance, and close your eyes. Speak these words: ‘I call upon thee, Lady of the Silver Gates. Let my heart beat as yours, and let the veil part.’ If she deems your cause worthy, you may glimpse a path unseen, a hope thought lost, or a power hidden deep within yourself.
But tread carefully, for even if she answers, her gaze may linger longer than you wish. The Dreaming God is not a savior; she is a force of change and upheaval. When hope is lost, mortals turn to her, but many forget that to find hope in dreams is to court the danger of waking to a nightmare.
The Iron Pact
When the world breaks, and all seems lost, the Iron Embrace shall close. With every drop of blood spilled in its name, the chains tighten, and the barrier holds. In sacrifice, there is strength; in strength, the will to endure.
The shattered shield is the emblem of our faith. For even in breaking, it serves its purpose. The fragments of our courage shall be reforged anew, until the last breath is drawn, and the war ends.
In the year of the Seventh Cycle, when the Great Wyrm shattered the defenses of Kargath, it was Stharras who answered. The Pact was forged in blood and iron, and with every sacrifice, his chains tightened. The walls held, though every man, woman, and child gave their lives. Such is the power of the Iron Embrace—it gives strength, but demands everything.
The legends speak of Stharras, The Unbroken Warden, who alone stands vigilant over the crumbling barrier between order and chaos. His form is that of a great armored figure, his face hidden behind a helm forged of the purest iron, his body bound by chains of gold that shimmer with an unearthly light. Every battle lost, every vow broken, is another link in his eternal chain. Yet, even as his restraints grow heavier, his strength increases.
To call upon Stharras is to place oneself at the very brink of annihilation, to seek his aid when all seems lost. Whisper his name thrice, and kneel upon the ground, offering a drop of blood to the earth. Intone: ‘I call upon the Warden of All Things Bound. In iron I trust, in chains I submit. Let my flesh be the shield, let my spirit be the unbroken blade.’ In that moment, a portion of his strength may flow through you, and your resolve may harden. But every bargain has a cost. For every promise made, a link of your soul binds to his chain. Each invocation of his power brings you closer to an unbreakable bond.
Beware becoming too reliant on his strength, for in the end, all who make the pact belong to him. He waits, in the heart of the Iron Citadel, where the winds scream and the land bleeds, for those who would offer everything to uphold a broken cause.
The Silent Veil
Silence is not merely the absence of sound, but the presence of truth unspoken. To silence another is to take power over them; to silence oneself is to gain power over truth itself.
To speak Ammiah’s name is to invite the void into one’s heart. Her silence is a cloak, an armor against prying eyes and grasping hands. But it is also a noose around the neck of those who wield it carelessly. The Void does not forgive, nor does it forget. Once silenced, a voice can never again be free.
Ammiah is the whisper in the darkness, the secret hidden beneath a thousand lies. Her name is seldom spoken, and those who do so find their voices faltering, their words swallowed by the silence she brings. She moves through shadows, her presence felt as a weight upon the soul, a pressure against the mind. Those who hear her are forever changed, their thoughts never again their own.
Invoke Ammiah only when all others have turned against you, when your own thoughts betray you, and when silence is the only shield left. Burn a black candle in a room devoid of light. Place a single feather within a circle of ashes, and in absolute silence, think of that which you wish to hide. No word need be spoken, only a single thought, clear and pure. Should Ammiah choose to shield you, the light of the candle will dim, and for a moment, the world will seem to hold its breath.
But be wary—secrets are a double-edged blade. To wield her power is to invite her presence, and Ammiah is ever curious. Those who hide from others may one day find themselves hiding from her as well, for she does not suffer lies or deceptions from her own. In the endless void of silence, there is no room for duplicity.
The Shrouded Moon
Death is not the end, but a passage into the next dawn. So speaks Nykara, The Lady of Twilight, who stands as guardian between the living and the dead. Her form is that of a radiant being, cloaked in robes of lavender and white, a crown of lilies upon her brow. Her touch is gentle, her words a soothing balm to those in pain. Yet, do not mistake her mercy for weakness, for it is she who guides the souls of the lost into the next world, and it is she who guards the threshold, allowing none to cross before their time.
To seek Nykara’s favor, light a candle of lavender wax and lay upon the ground three lilies, one white, one red, and one black. Close your eyes and whisper: ‘Lady of Twilight, grant me passage. Let me see the veil, and guide my hand.’ If she finds you worthy, you may receive a vision of that which lies beyond. The true nature of life and death is hers to bestow, but those who see too much may find themselves drawn forever into the twilight realms.
There are tales of those who have returned from the brink of death with knowledge of the Lady’s realm. They speak of an endless garden beneath a twilight sky, where every soul is a flower waiting to bloom. Yet, within every tale there is a warning—do not linger too long in her domain, for even a single glance at the full radiance of the Lady’s light may sever the soul’s ties to the mortal world forever.