The Veilweaver
Person
Of all the callings, the Veilweaver is the least understood and the most quietly unsettling. Where the Cleric draws clean upon the Living Sun and the Necromancer upon the Dark, the Veilweaver draws upon the Pale Sister, who reflects them both - and so weaves a magic that is neither, a grey and mingled art that the bright Cathedral will not bless and the Unmakers cannot claim. A Veilweaver does not heal as a Cleric heals nor slay as a Necromancer slays; they tend the threshold itself, easing the dying, laying the dead to their rest, warding the living against what should not walk, and shrouding their companions in the moon's soft dimness. Their workings are two-natured, falling one way on the living and another on the dead, gentle and terrible by turns. Few choose the path, fewer master it, and those who do carry a mournful air, as folk do who have spent too long at the edge of things. They are kept, where they are kept at all, out of the Cathedral's sight - for a light that is neither wholly good nor wholly ill is the one thing a Cathedral built on certainty cannot abide.