Weaver Courts

Weaver Courts

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The Weavers embraced this world as a new home, a treasure and a charge in equal measure. Today, after centuries of isolation, a tapestry of life and color is woven in their lands of Faerann, as the leaders of their season Courts eye beyond their borders with renewed interest…

Beware! Beware! Beyond go ne’er the green and brown gate!

For once inside, you cannot hide, the Forest Things await…

Braeonian Rhyme

Far to the west of the Hundred Kingdoms, beyond the Cairngall Range to the north and the Bitter Sea to the south, lies a primeval land, where the calls of exotic birds and the ceaseless rustle of leaves mark the edge of man’s domain. Deep within these lands, known to its inhabitants as the Faerann, the Weaver Courts, ancient cousins of the Spires, hold sway. Split into four seasonal Courts—Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter—these two great Exile nations could not be more different.

Where the Spires turned their back on their innate gift of Life Binding and twisted it into Biomancy, the Weavers revere it, using it to shape almost every aspect of their culture. Where the Spires look upon Eä as a sacrificial staging point for their successful return to their Homeworld, the Weavers see Eä as a divine gift, and take their duty to nurture and protect it with the utmost seriousness.

Children of a lost world and inheritors of a riven society, the Exiles who left the Spires under the protection of the Eldest Dragons chose to abandon everything they knew and carried, and walk upon Eä with the intent of giving freely what gifts they possessed in exchange for the chance to peacefully share in the gifts the planet offered.

Under the tutelage of the Dragons—perhaps the only beings more fascinated with life on Eä than the Weavers themselves—the Exiles soon began to appreciate the complexity of the tapestry of life upon Eä. In time, they took a new name—Weavers—to reflect their new calling, and embraced the burden of healing the damage caused by their arrival.

Their main tool for this was their innate gift of Life Binding. Capable of binding the life force of two beings together, the Weavers quickly began to bond with the land they sought to heal. Breaking an age-old taboo, they started mingling their essences with those of the local environment, adopting the traits of local flora and fauna and, in turn, gifting them with some of their own awareness and sentience.

A physical description of a member of the Weaver Courts is almost impossible: each has embraced the gift of Life Binding , bonding with at least one other living being, and thus changing irrevocably. One might pass a beautiful Autumn Court maiden with eyes like those of a doe, hair a riot of thorns and roses, and cloven hooves for feet, as she converses with the lean Spring Court male whose long neck and feathered upper body ends in a parrot’s head but whose legs are covered in a fine fur and taper into raptor-like talons. Nearby, one might  an ancient of Autumn who has repeatedly bound with the same grove of trees, becoming a towering humanoid figure encased in moss, bark, and forest detritus, who speaks in a voice like a hundred breaking branches.

This living tapestry is common in most Weaver societies, as the common people of the different Courts experience life through the senses of their chosen flora or fauna. But, alien as they may seem, they are outshone by those of the High Courts—mystical and spiritual leaders of the Weaver Courts who have somehow managed to use their Life Binding gift to bond with the elemental forces of Eä itself. Some manifest flaming coronae instead of hair, wear clothing of frost and snow, or bear claws and scales of pure obsidian, and other, even more exotic displays of power. Each Court is associated with an element: Water for Spring, Fire for Summer, Earth for Autumn, and Air for Winter.

Unusually many in the Summer and Winter Courts possess Elemental Bindings, leading these Courts to often see themselves as superior to Autumn and Spring—a frequent source of contention. Indeed, each Court can be considered a nation unto itself, with its own culture, goals, social mores, and rulers. Most Weavers do not concern themselves with the affairs of their betters, yet the ways of life in each Court often mirror the conflicts of their leaders. Competition amongst the Courts is fierce, and tensions can escalate into open conflict or even warfare, especially when members of the Higher Courts are involved, dragging their devotees with them.

As with the seasons, the power of each Court waxes and wanes. The Court of Spring has dominated for centuries, having led the restoration of the Faerann after the Fall, the Long Winter, and the Breaking. But centuries of ennui have dulled the luster of their achievements, and the other Courts are growing restless. Intrigues and plots are flying thick and heavy throughout the Courts, and maneuvering has already begun to see which Court shall rise and what agenda they shall pursue.

In such times, the Voice—the once-undisputed spiritual leader—has acted as a unifying force, or at least as a catalyst for restraint. But her words, they say, have become faint whispers, and one issue stands above all others: the Nyctimancy—the closing of Faerann’s borders. The name implies a cycle, that one day the borders will open again. It is debated every ten years at the Dance of Stars, when all four Courts assemble on the anniversary of the Exodus. The Voice hosts it at the Whispering Grove, which ensures that the ancient spiritual leader is ever presiding. Rather than interfere, the Voice allows her mere presence to inspire civility and some measure of cooperation in all matters but one: the Nyctimancy. On that, her voice has always been firm. The borders must remain closed.

Yet the Voice did not appear at the last Dance of Stars, and the Whispering Grove remained silent. Rumors abound. Still, no one dares challenge her authority—yet. As the next Dance of Stars approaches, and whispers grow that the Voice has been lost to her extensive bindings, the Courts prepare to push their agendas.

Court of Spring
Court of Autumn
Court of Summer
Court of Winter

Court of Spring

When the Exiles—who would come to be known as the Weavers—first cast off the yoke of the Spires and their blasphemous Biomancy, many took refuge beneath the eaves of the great western forests. The reasons for this choice remain unknown to this day. Perhaps they hoped that the thick vegetation and dense cover would shield them from both their Spire overlords and Draconic interest alike.

Whatever the case, the western forests were rife with dragons and their offspring. The thick primeval blanket of life and complex ecosystems had long drawn these eternally curious beings, who observed the new refugees with wary interest. That initial distrust soon gave way to delight, as the dragons witnessed the Exiles performing the miracle of Life Binding firsthand, watching a sentient race so directly influence and transform the life they themselves had studied so exhaustively. Within a few short years, a lasting friendship formed between the eldest of their kind and the nascent kingdom of the Weavers.

Under draconic tutelage and guidance, the first Weavers explored the limits of Life Binding with the creatures that ran, flew, and scurried across the Faerann, slowly pushing the boundaries of what they believed possible. It would not be entirely inaccurate to think of these early Weavers as the forerunners of the Court of Spring. Their greatest joy and purpose lay in binding themselves to the vibrant life of Eä and coaxing it forth into the Faerann.

The Spring Court of today remains as focused on that mission as their ancestors were thousands of years ago. Through their leadership and efforts, the Weavers survived the Dweghom’s Breaking of the World and the subsequent culling of their allies. It is still whispered that the Weavers have somehow managed to hide the essence of their dragon allies, fusing it with the surrounding forests until it lies undetectable even to the most determined of the Dweghom. This sweeping mastery of Life Binding has made the Court of Spring one of the most curious and motley Courts, populated by an array of curious figures clad in a riot of color.

The rulers of the Court of Spring, Maeve and Nuada, have been honored as the de facto sovereigns of the Faerann for millennia. Maeve, by far the youngest of all Queens, cares little for the vicious games that dominate Court life. She has instead devoted herself entirely to the task of restoring the Faerann to its original, primeval glory. Her courtesans are almost universally adorned in the riotous colors of new life—flowers, brightly patterned fish, and birds of radiant plumage among their most favored bonds. Hers is the gift that makes the Faerann grow beyond its borders each year, spreading slowly and inexorably in the hope of one day engulfing the world.

Nuada, her King and equal, has long fought the interference of the other Courts to buy time for Maeve’s vision to flourish. A cunning strategist and duelist without peer, Nuada’s sharp edge—both literal and metaphorical—is all that has held the other Courts at bay for centuries. His hands are red with the blood of those he has challenged; his blade only slightly faster than his wit. Eschewing the ostentation of their brothers and sisters, Nuada’s courtesans favor simpler, humanoid forms—yet adorn themselves with stunning tattoos and masterfully crafted jewelry. As comfortable fighting on foot as astride their bonded mounts, these fae knights embody a level of form and elegance no human effort could hope to imitate.

While it would be easy to dismiss this Court with all its flights of fancy and ostentatious chivalric behavior, Maeve and Nuada have ensured Spring’s dominance for centuries. When Maeve is roused to anger, she arrives with the fury of a monsoon, her consorts’ flashing silver blades calling down a rain of blood in her wake. This side of Spring may well be needed at the next Dance of Stars, for, in the absence of the Voice, a shift in power appears increasingly likely…

Court of Autumn

While not the most warlike of the Weaver Courts, the Court of Autumn is the one that sees the most conflict by far. This is due in part to their traditional holdings in the eastern reaches of the Faerann, but also because of their inherently contradictory nature. Autumn is a time of transition, when the exuberant power of Summer gradually gives way to the deadly embrace of Winter. It is a season of transformation, conflict, and growing fear—but also of preservation and preparation, when the strong marshal their resources and the cunning steal and scavenge what they can.

As a result, the Court of Autumn values strength and cunning above all else. They are not inherently aggressive or expansionist, merely fiercely protective and territorial. It is no surprise that, when members of this Court seek cohorts for Life Binding, they gravitate toward animals and plants that mirror their own traits of territoriality and adaptability ranging from musk oxen, wolves, badgers, weasels, minks, wolverines, as well as pines, ivy, conifers, and fungi.

Quick to anger and slow to forgive, the Court of Autumn is rife with rivalries and vendettas, some dating back millennia. To manage these tensions, and to prevent more from arising, the Court has adopted a highly codified etiquette to moderate the behavior and interactions between its members. As long as one abides by this code, one should be safe. Emphasis here, however, is on should—strength and cunning can only be restrained by gilded words and courtesy for so long.

Of all the Weaver Courts, it is the Court of Autumn that has the most contact with the human realms—thanks both to their geographic proximity to the eastern Faerann and to the morbid fascination that Cernunnos the Hunter, King of Autumn, holds for short-lived mortals who live beyond his borders.

Evidence of his interest—and meddling—in human affairs can be traced back for centuries, possibly millennia. Legends speak of the Huntsman, leader of the Wild Hunt, whose terrifying pack pursues the unworthy or those unfortunate enough to have caught his eye. Others tell of the Green Knight,  the unknowable guardian of the forests who challenges worthy opponents to unfathomable games they cannot hope to win. Countless more describe tricksters and witches who live deep within the woods, preying upon the innocent or ensnaring the gullible. While not all these figures can be attributed to the King of Autumn, few doubt the influence his Court has had on such stories. It’s no surprise that from them we can see the emphasis on courtly etiquette and riddles, so prevalent in the legends.

Even the King’s Consort, the dreaded Morrigan, reflects his obsession with humankind. Born of humans but far from mortal, the Morrigan was once a lesser deity of the Keltonni, a primordial protector of the people and their land. When the Keltonni fled the overwhelming might and influence of the Old Dominion across the Claustrine Mountains, they were the first humans to reach the borders of the Faerann and encounter the Courts. Desperate and afraid, the Keltonni started a war they could not hope to win, with the Morrigan leading them into every battle. Intrigued by mankind and enamored with their goddess, Cernunnos made them a generous offer: the Keltonni could settle in the lands outside the Faerann, and he would stay his hand—but the Morrigan would have to surrender herself to him. With little choice in the matter, the Morrigan accepted, for the sake of her people. A more tempestuous match could scarcely be imagined, but it has kept the lands of the Keltonni safe for centuries.

It is said that the Morrigan rarely attends her husband’s Court these days; and it is not hard to imagine why. Whispers of a great purge that would create a greater buffer between the Weavers and the human world stir among the King’s generals. And, as centuries passed and the proud people of the Morrigan grow fewer and their ways fade before the march of modern kingdoms, Cernunnos’ vow to his wife feels less and less binding.

Court of Summer

Few things are known among mortals about the Courts that lie beyond the Cairngall Range or the shores of the Bitter Sea. But the very existence of the High Courts is too strange and vivid for human memory to completely forget. Tales of warriors with thorned crowns and living cloaks in dazzling colors, riding horned felines, are too striking for folklore to ignore. Warnings about men and women with raptor wings, or about beautiful strangers hiding mandibles behind charming smiles who snatch those who venture out alone, are too scary for children to forget and not pass down. Such tales have kept the names Oberon and Titania alive on mortal lips, and the memory of the Weavers of the Summer Court lingers among humans, even if it is often far removed from reality.

In truth, the Summer Court has had little visible influence on the evolution of Weaver culture beyond the limits of their own Court. Appearing self-contained, from the outside the intricacies and politics of Summer would perhaps seem slow, even sluggish to outside eyes. The Weavers of the Summer Court seem to be uninterested even in their fellows, content to roam aimlessly, or to remain silent for ages. But while this is not necessarily a façade—at least not one consciously adopted—it is also far from the truth. There is a reason why humans have retained such vivid impressions of the Summer Court despite their limited contact.

Ruled by Oberon and Titania, the Summer Court is shaped by their love and devotion to one another—rivaled only by their constant conflict. Oberon is a beguiling and cunning strategist, patient and relentless, a force that lures his enemies in before overwhelming them. Titania, in contrast, is impulsive and shows little patience for his tactics. She claims what she desires with fervor, always seeking to grow and expand… only to find Oberon’s plans already in place, restraining her from acting too rashly. Tied to the element of Fire, the royal couple are locked in a never-ending marital bout, a struggle that simmers beneath the surface of their Court and draws all their followers into its undertow. If the Summer Court appears sluggish or even complacent, it is because its members care not about struggles with others. There is enough tension and infighting within their own Court for the other Courts to be of consequence to them. Or so they would claim.

“This seed was planted in Summer,” the Weavers often claim, and it is true that the schemes of Oberon and Titania have long spilled beyond the confines of their Court, sometimes dragging in external agents, willing or not. Many of the tensions and intrigues of the other Courts could be traced to the designs of the Summer Court and it is only when the other rulers unite against the couple that these machinations pause—only to resume once the other Courts realize just how devoted to each other they truly are when confronted by others.

This pattern has led some to speculate. For all the strife and endless plotting, the conflict between the royal couple of Summer never spirals beyond their control. The Summer military, from their mantis warriors to their fiery knights and winged cohorts, rarely, if ever, partake in their infighting. Should the royal couple set their minds on a common goal, their Court’s strength remains formidable. Their forces are sharp, practiced, and honed to perfection through carefully meted conflict. And should this prove a scheme among schemes, should all the seeds sown in Summer prove to be deliberate, then Oberon and Titania may yet become a force powerful enough to challenge not just the other Courts, but powers beyond the Faerann itself.

Should this fear prove founded, the time may be close at hand. With whispers that the Court of Spring’s rule is waning, and the Voice remaining silent, it may not be long before Oberon and Titania unite in purpose and turn their attention to others. And if that happens, it is not the Faerann that should tremble—but the world beyond.

Court of Winter

Cold, ruthless, and pragmatic, the Winter Court has long held on to a dominant position within the Faerann despite never having ruled it. Their power does not wax or wane with the seasons or centuries, for it is held fast in the clawed grasp of Mab, Queen of Air and Darkness, the oldest, and most feared, of the Weaver Monarchs.

Long ago, so long that even the Queen herself has forgotten, Mab sought only to protect and preserve her people from the ruthless efforts of a mad tyrant. Her desperation to protect her people knew no bounds; she was the first to cast away her mortality and embrace elemental power in a selfless act that would forever change the destiny of the Weaver Courts. Today, Mab rules her court with cunning honed over millennia of conflict and intrigue. Her cruelty, though real, is neither wanton nor wasteful. Her brutal political games and ruthless intrigues have allowed her to gather and nurture some of the most powerful warriors and elementalists in the Courts, who know their strength and do not hesitate to wield it. As far as Mab is concerned, the fact that these powerful and ambitious individuals regularly attempt to dethrone her is, at best, an amusing distraction and, at worst, a necessary challenge to keep her sharp.

Even before she became the Queen of Air and Darkness, Mab chose not to share her life with a consort. But this mattered little to Boreas, the North Wind, King of Stormy Seas, who chose her. Boreas—the mightiest of the free-willed elementals to retain autonomy—is the living embodiment of Eä and cares little for the affairs of the mortals. Why exactly he chose Mab as his consort is a mystery to all, perhaps even to himself, for Boreas is as fickle and changeable as the weather. Sometimes he is a stalwart champion who fights by the side of the forces of winter, at others he simply vanishes for months on end, and at others still he simply arrives, carouses and vanishes, leaving all his court baffled and dazed. Mab has long given up trying to control, guide, or even rid herself of this nuisance, but has concluded that letting him roam freely often causes more disruption to her enemies than to herself.

Most of the Exiles of the Winter Court favor elemental over life bindings. This choice appears to be practical rather than ideological: some cite the scarcity of suitable flora and fauna during winter, while others wish to emulate Mab’s pursuit of power. Few deny that an elemental bond grants greater strength than a simple life bond, and for many, aesthetics alone dictate the preference. When the Winter Court gathers (which is rare), their assembly is a breathtaking spectacle. Bodies and garments shimmer in gossamer threads of frost and ice, glinting in hues so dazzling one might be blinded by the display. When they march to war, the warriors of the Winter Court do so clad in arms that proclaim their mastery. The most powerful among them wield weapons carved from living ice, constantly renewed by the magic of their bearers. Others, still rising through the ranks, wear thick furs and hides adorned with primitive insignia, their spears tipped with elemental frost. Regardless of rank, the combined might of the Winter Court, both sorcerous and martial, would give any mortal realm pause. Mab has cultivated this force with care and patience for centuries… but none can say who she will unleash it upon. “None know what lies beyond the snow,” the other Courts often say. To this, the Winter Court simply smiles—and says nothing.