Weavers of Arachne

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Scholarly Ramblings on Naidem Fables: The Arachne Cycle

When Naidem was first revealed to us, it became a matter of personal interest for many scholars. As tales and stories surfaced, several of us started seeking them out and collecting them. The tenuous ties between Elanthia and Naidem often show themselves in these stories, and I find the various fables involved in what many of us are calling the The Arachne Cycle collected here to be fascinating. What is unusual about this tale or cycle is that it appears, more so than any other folklore encountered in Naidem thus far, to have components definitely of Naidem and not just remnants of folklore from their Elanthian lives. And yet, each of the individual tales can be directly correlated to Elanthian stories.

Like other tales out of Naidem, these written accounts appear to be transcriptions of verbal storytelling sessions. The Storyteller, as I have named them, has an active voice throughout these tellings, and they take on a somewhat parental or caretaker role with their reassurances and asides during the telling. It is my great hope that someday we can unravel the mystery of the Storyteller as well, but for now, we shall focus on The Arachne Cycle.

Let me first present the tale as found in a Naidem book collection, and then I shall attempt to draw these components together into the greater Elanthian picture.

--Isienaka, Chief Scholar of Atan Irith, in the year 5125

The Arachne Cycle: The Weavers of Arachne

Ah, dear ones, gather round yet again to hear these tales. Throughout time and tide, betwixt moons and stars, across the width and breadth of Naidem, where light bleeds into dark, where eternal twilight blooms, where the shadows and webs of our lives dance, we find a tale, my child, of loyalty and betrayal.

It begins innocently enough with a gathering of women -- a sluagh, a korrigan, a gjenganger, a cailleach, and a caoineag. They were craftsfolk, spinners and weavers and knitters, joined together by their common passions. They would gather in the eternal twilight and work together, sometimes in companionable silence; other times, they exchanged stories and songs or brought forward tidbits of gossip heard about their neighborhoods. From the moment they met, the women had felt drawn together, as if a loom wove their threads together in bonds of sisterhood, as if they were always meant to be.

One evening, as they worked together, a spider of unusual, but not alarming, size skittered across the sluagh's spinning wheel. She stopped and held out her hand, and the spider carefully stepped onto it. The other women stopped their work as well, all staring at the spider.

"She is good," said the gjenganger, "A spider of her size weaves a strong web, much like we do."

"She is beautiful," said the caoineag, "Her red hourglass is a bright beacon, a reminder that time comes for us all."

"She is powerful," said the korrigan, "Her bite defends herself even as her web captures that which would take her away."

"She is bold," said the cailleach, "Staying not to the hidden shadows but showing herself proudly and without fear."

"She is ours," said the sluagh, "She is us. We are her. I know not how, but this I know."

The women murmured agreement as the sluagh gently placed her hand to the ground, and the spider scurried to the center of the room. As one, they bowed their heads and whispered, "We dream we are good and beautiful and powerful and bold. We weave and we spin and leave no truth untold." The spider chittered its mandibles together and waved its front two legs at the women, and then it skittered off into the darkness.

"Sisters," said the sluagh, "We are blessed this night, but I know not how or why. Something stirs deep within my mind. Does it also yours?"

Yet again, the women murmured agreement, and as one, they drew close, holding hands and lost in thought and the dark haze of long-buried and nigh unreachable memories.

From then on, when the women met, they first paid homage to the spider, and eventually, their workshop had a shrine. It was draped in finely spun silk webbing, and small dishes of offerings were left beneath flickering candles of red and black and ivory. The spider even made appearances from time to time, weaving her own webs around the shrine or using her nimble legs to fix an errant thread here and there in the work being done.

Days or weeks or months or years later (how is one to know time in the evergloam of Naidem, dear ones), the women still met, and they had named their spider, Arachne. It fit, but they knew not why. One by one, they would approach the altar and pray to her, laying out the grievances and wrongs that had plagued their moments in this broken afterlife.

Soon, their neighbors (not friends, never friends, for these women had no friends but each other) grew wary of these solitary women who only had time for each other despite all being from different areas. Slowly they transformed from shy craftsfolk in the minds of those around them into something to be looked upon with suspicion and fear; finally, unbeknownst to them, meetings were had, and volunteers were selected to follow them and observe.

Five followers met up and crept through Evermore Hollow until they reached the cottage where the women worked. They peered through windows and witnessed the worshipping of the spider, and as one, they gasped loudly in horror and fear, running off into the night even as the spider on the altar gnashed its mandibles in their direction, and the sluagh cried out, "We are betrayed, my sisters!"

With sad sighs, the women each returned home, vowing to be powerful and bold and to explain that they were harmless. Here, their stories diverge, my child, but they all share one commonality:

None returned to their refuge.

The cottage was said to have disappeared overnight, lost in the shadows and covered in the webs of a spider setting traps for any who dared disturb what had once been a sanctuary of solace for solitary women.

Taikita-oro: The Silver Orb-Weaver of the Sluagh

Atkima was known for her beauty amongst the sluagh of her area, and within a short time of her arrival in Fate's Holding, she found herself at the center of attention, suitors vying for her hand quite possibly before her newly dead body had grown cold. It was all too much for Atkima, and she became increasingly solitary, focusing instead on her spinning.

Time passed, as it is wont to do (yes, dear ones, even here in twilight eternal), and eventually she lived in relative harmony with those around her. She spun fine threads from natural fibers, selling them to craftsfolk throughout Fate's Holding even as they became suspicious of her and her solitude.

Upon returning to her home after the interruption at the cottage, she found a mob awaiting her.

She tried, oh dear listener, she tried to stand tall, to be bold, but the fear and the anger was too much, and she began instead to weep. As the mob closed in, demanding answers, a transformation came over poor Atkima -- where once was a crying woman, suddenly there was an enormous hybrid spider-sluagh.

Eight powerful legs held up a female torso, vaguely sluagh in appearance with her mouth widening to reveal venom-dripping fangs. Those fangs tore through several of Fate's Holding that day before the spider-woman scurried away.

"Taikita-oro," whispered a fellow sluagh as what was once Atkima fled into the distance, "We have angered her."

When pressed, residents of Fate's Holding may still speak of her in hushed tones, and if a resident goes missing, some will say that the Taikita-oro has taken them away.

The End of Innocence: The Atavlek's Territory

The korrigan of our quintet had no name, or none that any can remember. What they do remember in Innocent's End is the tale of the Atavlek. Now, my dears, I know Innocent's End is home to children, but a few adult denizens have always tried to be caretakers of these precious babes, and our korrigan may have been one. Scraps of bits of hints of tales suggest she did not return home but at around the same time, a monstrous spider took residence nearby. Someone named it the Atavlek, and to this day, children in Naidem still chant a few varieties of cautionary songs about it, often when playing skipping games.

A popular version of the Atavlek chant:

I know something

But I won't tell.

The Atavlek will

eat you well.

Down in the forest

out in the wood

The Atavlek will

get you good.

I know something

And this I'll say.

The Atavlek's

gonna make you pay.

One for the spider, two for the web

Three for a lady, and four means you're dead

Five is a sound, six is a sight

Seven means you won't sleep at night

Eight is for something lost and alone

I forget, I forget, the dark will moan.

The Marsh Spiders of Moorlyn

While often we find the exact fates and circumstances of our women are lost to the never-ending twilight time, we have several written accounts, dear listener, of the immediate aftermath in Moorlyn. Enraged by the terror wrought upon her sisterhood, our gjenganger weaver, Leyriea, burst upon the marshes and called to herself an army of marsh spiders. For several hours of what passes as night here in Naidem, nowhere was safe from the skittering masses.

Several fell beneath hordes of eight-legged vengeance incarnate, their bodies teaming with tiny spiders, and dozens more fled screaming into the night, doing what they could to avoid the same fate. With a sharp command, our gjenganger ended the attack, but before those of Moorlyn could feel relief, she transformed into a spider larger than the largest fomorian, drove her fangs into the man who had invaded her refuge, and ran off into the wilds with him.

While those who fell eventually recovered, no one saw her invader again. It is said, dear one (but only in the most hushed of tones), that she keeps him in a web in a dark forest as an offering to her Arachne and her lost friends, and some believe that if you wander too far or do not respect the spiders of the marsh, that you too may find yourself caught.

Amazkoub the Vengeful: A Tale of Vigilance

Oh my dear ones, Kaveeka the cailleach returned to Vigil's End to mocking and mayhem. Such vicious barbs were thrown her way.

"Old Lady Kaveeka loves spiders!"
"The crazy knitter worships bugs!"

These were but a few of the jeers thrown at her. They all quieted, however, when an ethereal skittering filled the air. A crimson light flashed about Kaveeka, and when it faded, Kaveeka was gone, and a pony-sized spider stood in her place. A leader of the community called for order, and with martial precision, a group of denizens fell into formation and marched upon the spider. It fled out of sight beneath their threatening miens.

Ah, but they underestimated our dear Kaveeka, my children. The next night, the spider was spotted in the distance, and the following morning, several small homes were veritably covered in spiderwebs. The night after, a pony-sized spider chased a small group of sheep through the neighborhood, scattering them far and wide. And on the third night, the spider left a night patrol wrapped in silk and immobilized on the porch of her chief tormenter.

Finally, an elder known as the Old Crow set out alone, calling out, "Amazhoub, Amazhoub! Come listen to me!" (Amazhoub, the Old Crow had said, was what one called big spiders, but no one knows why). The spider-who-was-Kaveeka came, and they talked. Old Crow would never say what he said to Amazhoub, but the next night and the next and so on were free of spider vengeance.

However, Old Crow cautioned that they must remain vigilant and no longer be mean to those different or else Amazhoub will return. To this day, those of Vigil's End believe that if something untoward happens to you or your home, you must first look at what you may have done to bring Amazhoub the Vengeful to your door.

Within Darkbriar Woods: Yamatatha Watches

The caoineag's tale yet remains, darling children, so gather close and listen carefully. It is quick. Sylerille, our caoineag, carried to her home in Winterbriar an anger so great that she vibrated with it, shaking unnervingly as she confronted the spy who barely arrived to their community before her.

"I curse you all," she cried, "May you be ever in winter and ever cold. May the cheerful woods grow dark and bold. And may you witness horrors untold."

With that, she disappeared deep into the woods.

While Sylerille was never seen again, Naidem legend has it that this is how the Darkbriar Woods came to be. Some claim she watches, and if any threaten the trees of her chosen home, she will send out her army of creatures from the deepest, darkest, most impenetrable depths of the forest -- massive spiders, twisted foxes, possessed bears -- and take her revenge. They call her Yamatatha, and some will leave offerings for her near the eldritch willows in the woods. Those who hunt for her are never seen again, my dearies, so perhaps tread carefully should you tread there at all.

Elanthian Spider Folk Lore

And now we come to the Elanthian equivalents of the Naidem tales. I do not presume this to be an exhaustive list, as I am sure there may be similarities and ties from the various Naidem versions found in many other cultures. However, based off the available extant data found thus far, these appear to be the closest equivalents to Naidem's Arachne Cycle.

----Isienaka

The Erithian Taikita-oro

Despite remembering nothing of Agan Irith, the erithi still came to Elanthia with history and folklore embedded into their souls, generational tales and feelings and even language coming naturally even when specifics do not.

The tale of the taikita-oro is one such story. Legend has it that the first taikita-oro was a woman betrayed by her spouse. Exactly what that betrayal was changes depending on the storyteller, but the most prevalent theme is one of romantic affairs and infidelity. In her anger and sorrow over her betrayal, the woman found within herself the ability to shapeshift into an erithi-sized spider, and she used this to her advantage, capturing her husband in a web and siphoning his life away through venomous fangs. Finding strength in her vengeance, she was said to roam alone in erithi form, questioning those who would try to win her hand. If they failed, she would transform, and they would pay the ultimate price for their intended betrayals. If they passed, they may never know, save for a slight prickling of relief deep within their innermost beings.

Since one may never know if the woman you are speaking to is a taikita-oro, or "silver spider-woman," superstitious erithi caution you should be honest and true in all your dealings with one another, especially lone women encountered in the wilds.

Grenroese Children's Rhymes

The korrigan's Atavlek is the subject of a well-known children's rhyme amidst many of the dwarven Grenroa Clan.

Its Common translation is roughly:

Little Barlien Grenvlave

Sat in a dark cave

Napping in the toads.

Down came the Atavlek

And had him for a tiny snack

And Little Barli now walks the Roads.

According to one Grenroa scholar, rhymes like these were meant to be cautionary tales for their children. Working and living deep underground, the Grenroa were wont to discover many dangerous places, and it is generally accepted amongst scholars that they were created to keep children away from areas deemed unsafe.

This particular one has persisted for hundreds of years, mostly because no one quite knows what it references. Atavlek would roughly translate to "demon spider" in one dialect of Dwarven, and people wonder if perhaps a group of long-gone Grenroa dug somewhere they should not, and all that now survives is this puzzling rhyme. With its mysterious history, it goes through various stages of popularity with dwarven children, who will make up stories about the Atavlek and what will happen to you should you encounter it down a darkened cave corridor.

Spider-witches and Goblin-spiders: Tales of Ta'Ardenai

The gjenganger tale is interesting, as it appears to be a conflation and twisting of two folk tales from Ta'Ardenai. The first is more commonly told in the northern reaches and involves the "saetarang" or "insect witches" (also frequently translated to "spider witches"). These were magic practitioners, typically female, who used their magical prowess to send insects after their enemies. While tales of the saetarang have mostly gone out of style, they persist here and there in extremely isolated or superstitious areas in the Elven Nations. There is no one particular story around the saetarang; rather, it encompasses any witch-like figure that uses insects or spiders to bring harm against someone. It was also, unfortunately, used as a term to brand anyone not quite fitting in during times of trial for a community. The presence of a saetarang, naturally, explained all ill deeds neatly while also excising from the collective its more troublesome individuals. Of note in more modern times, some people on the fringes will band together and call themselves saetarang, invoking Arachne or the Huntress as a patron and intentionally setting themselves apart.

From deep within the Darkling Wood comes the tale of the Saetipha-luryn or goblin-spider. By day, the cheerful and tiny saetipha drift along on their silken parasols, but at night, if they are actually saetipha-luryn in disguise, they grow into monstrously huge spiders who attack at the slightest provocation and carry away their prey. Believed to also possess the ability to transform into an elf, the saetipha-luryn was used for hundreds of years as a means of keeping people inside during the dangerous nights in the Wood.

One famous tale has an untested Ardenai ranger venturing to an abandoned tower where all who tried to reclaim disappeared. As the story goes, he comes across a peasant woman gathering herbs for her family. Putting aside his bow, he kneels down to help her forage when she changes into a saetipha-luryn and casts her web about him. Fortunately, he kept his dagger nearby, and he cut himself free quickly and slew the creature. As a reward for his bravery and success, he was given the abandoned tower and a title, the Prepared Defender of Ardenai.

The Trickster Spider of the Tehir

Given the reference to Amazkoub in the Vigil's End folklore, it is clear Kaveeka's tale can be tied back to Tehiri stories revolving around the antics of Amazkoub and Yatidama. Amazkoub (Auntie Spider) is a trickster spirit taking the form of an enormous ridgeweaver. In most tribes, the tales are about Amazkoub fooling the tasig-heqi, sending them on wild chases across the desert and scattering their 'herds' of ridgeweavers.

Amongst the Hunted Feather Tribe (or Hunting Feather Tribe, depending on the seasonal migration cycle), however, Amazkoub frequently fights with Yatidama, the tribe's avian totem (the name comes from a Tehiri idiomatic equivalent for 'to and fro' -- a symbol of their changing name and locations). Yatidama is depicted as a very wise ayr'raven (a desert corvid native to the Sea of Fire) who advises the Hunted Feathers and guides them when needed.

One such tale has Amazkoub skittering amongst the small herds of livestock, sending them stampeding through the camp. Auntie Spider laughed and laughed as her actions wreaked havoc on the carefully set camp, until Yatidama swooped in and pecked her away. This happened for three nights, until Yatidama convinced the tribal elders to set clever traps to ensnare Amazkoub. Her plan worked, and Auntie Spider was caught. After a lecture from the elders and several threats from Yatidama, Amazkoub promised to leave the herds alone for at least a season.

Forest Protectors: Tathyrala

In some sylvan communities, one may find the legends of the tathyrala. It is believed that some trees are blessed to house these protector spirits. They emerge from their trees as glowing orbs when the area they defend is threatened. In some legends, this is just the tree itself and its immediate surroundings. For others, it may encompass an entire village or forest.

There is no singular consistent tale of the tathyrala; they are as varied as the leaves on a tree in a forest. There are a few stories where the orbs emerge, and if they are not sufficient to scare away the danger, they call upon the forest creatures, and the creatures answer -- fox, bear, spider, snake, and all. In one such story, a crone of indeterminate origins became such a part of the woods, she was considered a forest creature and would answer the summons. It is said she had a mouth on the top of her head, hidden by her hair, and she would use it to consume the dangers to the tathyrala's tree. She is called yamatatha by the sylvans who carry her story.

OOC Information/Notes

• Created by GM Xynwen for 2025's Ebon Gate
• There are several real world inspirations for these stories, mostly from folklore of Ghana, Japan, and the Philippines. However, they each take their own Elanthian twists and turns for Naidem's influence and for the race/culture's influence as well.
• Many thanks to the race gurus for their reviews!