(Mechanics tonight. For now, you get the idea.)
The ven do not die of old age. Instead, their bodies slow, their blood cools, and their skin begins emitting a strange substance called altrua. Altrua is not unlike spider’s webs. Over the years, they fall into a state they call “solace.” Eventually, the entire body goes into hibernation, wrapped up in altrua, asleep. And dreaming.
The ven believe the mind of a ven in solace is still aware. In fact, while in solace, the ven mind becomes incredibly powerful, capable of transmitting thoughts and visions to those of kindred blood and spirit. The ven receive these visions while dreaming themselves, but they can also learn how to place their minds into an altered state that is able to receive these messages of dreaming ven.
Those who slumber in solace are called shuaven: the dreaming ven. Revered by their Houses, they become the equivalent of our own patron saints. The ven pray to them at shrines, collect artifacts from their lives, and maintain the sleeping body. While the shuaven is protected within his altrua shroud, his is not invulnerable. Altrua is particularly vulnerable to fire and many shuaven has been lost in such a way.
The shuaven are far from equal and not all are universally revered. The worship of some shuaven is small: they are only revered by their families. Other shuaven, however, have temples in every city on Shanri. Their names are whispered only in reverence, sung with open throats, and feared by every sensible ven.
Most ven often find a kind of communion with a particular shuaven—sometimes a saint not even of his own House. In order to gain a deeper understanding and to make the bond between them stronger, many ven join mystery cults devoted to the shuaven.
All the shuaven are different. What is true of one is most likely not true of another. Some are revered while others are worshipped. Some have temples and others have perhaps one or two shrines. A few shuaven have even been forgotten, lost in the catacombs under the thriving metropolis, they wait, sending visions to those who might hear, hoping one day hey will be rediscovered.
And then there are the fashuva: the fell ones. Even whispering their names is dangerous. We shall not speak of them here, lest they hear us. Even mentioning them could call their attention. We shall say no more.