Hollow Weavers
Among ruins where silence clings too tightly, travelers whisper of the Hollow Weavers - entities that do not build, but unmake. They move like spidery silhouettes at the edge of vision, leaving behind lattices of bone-white thread spun from stolen memory.
To meet a Weaver is to risk being edited out of the world. It does not strike with fang or blade; instead, it hooks into the gaps of a person’s life. First, you forget where you placed your weapon. Then, the name of your companion. Finally, your own oath. When all memory is gone, the Weaver leaves only a husk - alive, breathing, but narratively erased.
Signs of the Weaver
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Threadscars: Thin white fractures across walls, like veins of marble, warm to the touch.
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Fray-Silence: Places where echoes vanish, as if sound itself refuses to exist.
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Unwritten Corpses: Bodies with no eyes, no tongue, no scars - smooth blanks where stories once lived.
For the Player
A Hollow Weaver encounter is survival horror at its core. Combat means little, for blades pass through them unless forged with a memory-infused relic. The real challenge lies in keeping your identity intact. Roleplay the gradual unraveling of self: a forgotten vice, a faltering oath, an ally who suddenly feels like a stranger.
For the Storyteller
Weavers are best introduced slowly. Allow the players to notice missing details - NPCs forgetting their names, maps losing ink, journals going blank. When the Weaver finally appears, its presence should feel inevitable, like the story was always erasing itself. Victory may not mean killing it, but restoring what was lost - or sacrificing part of oneself to seal the thread.