Maelstrom Campaign - The True Faiths: The Weaver

The Weaver teaches the value of thought, planning and imaginative thinking. Although Her followers prize philosophy, poetry and art they hold that the highest application of imaginative forethought is in solving the problems that face individuals and communities. The loom is a common symbol of the Weaver but in some lands She is also called the Midwife and sometimes the Lover. Whilst artists, poets and playwrights worship the Weaver, Her followers are drawn from every aspect of life. Anyone who tries to find imaginative solutions to the problems they face is likely to pay at least lip service to Her. Her devotees believe that there are no problems that cannot be solved, merely solutions that have not yet been discovered.

The Weaver promises Her followers that eventually all the problems of the world will be resolved. Many followers are wanderers, challenging themselves to find fresh ways to do things each day. Their disdain for tradition and custom can make them unpopular in more parochial areas. However there are dozens of artists, poets and sculptors in towns and cities who acknowledge no law but the words of the Lover. The refusal of the priests of the Weaver to acknowledge the primacy of the law has lead to them being banned in some areas, but just as often you find devotees acting as advisers to powerful lords, generals and wealthy merchants. The refusal to accept that any situation is irretrievable can make the devoted almost as useful as they can be infuriating.

Worship of the Weaver is common place in every land but there are few organised churches in many parts. Of all people the Ruhki keep Her tenets closest to their hearts and it is here that Her worship is strongest. Makhand, the largest Rukhi port, contains the Marble Eye, a massive, domed temple built of white stone, to venerate the Weaver. What leadership the Ruhki exert over the Church emerges from here, under the aegis of a near legendary figure called Almandra the Veiled Warrior.

The Commandments of the Weaver

Chains bind the body, laws bind the mind, nothing contains the imagination.
Insight cuts deeper and easier than a knife.
Do not strive to accomplish something you can achieve with a moments thought.
Custom and tradition are the refuge of the fool.
Respect is earned through accomplishment, it does not accrue from longevity and impending dotage.

And so it began......

Dawn breaks, war looms, the evil Lord is gathering his armies to wage a campaign of destruction upon the free peoples of the world. It is up to I, Sir Maximilan Pegasus to stop him, with my trusted band of adventurers we must gather the enchanted sword of Tek, the Shield of Way-Lem and the amulet of Subsidence and together we shall slay this abomination! “TIME FREEZE” And bam, the fantasy world fades away, the enchanted sword of Tek in my hand is a rubber sword smothered in coloured ribbons with a laminated card cable tied to the hilt, I look down and I’m wearing plastic armour and unflattering heropants, and the magical world of my imagination washes away to reveal a field in Wigan, but you know what? It’s larp and I’m a larper, it’s what I do.
I started larping when I was 17, I’d never role-played before, I’d never played D&D or Warhammer, never played WoW or any form of online game, I’d never even read Lord of the Rings, I feel somewhat privileged that I hadn’t done any of those things, I think it gave me an untainted attitude towards what larp could be, I had no preconceptions about saving the maiden fair, slaying the dragon or smiting the liche, to me it was just a new thing to try.
It was cold, really cold, 10am on a September morning, the rain was battering down and I’d been given a faux fur tunic, a mouldy old sword and been pointed towards a man and told, “You’re monstering, there’s the ref he’ll tell you what to do.” I obeyed, I played wave after wave of zombies, orcs and various line monsters and to be honest, was cold, bored and hungry. That is, until lunchtime, the teams switched sides, I got into the kit I’d scrounged up, as with most first timers, a black trenchcoat. I took the mouldy old sword, stood with my fellow adventurers and it hit me, I’m a god damn hero!
Pow, there it was, a new larper was born.