In the age of leaf-wars and burrow-famine, the First Spinner Arachneon bound the starving folk together with a silver thread found in the roots of the world. When the thread was pulled, it split into twelve living strands, each becoming a god with a task, a temper, and a grievance. The redwall-style peoples say the gods came not to comfort them, but to teach them how to survive beautifully inside a wrathful world.

Reality is imagined as a living loom stretched through root, ruin, and sky. The eight spokes of the great Web hold the seasons, the burrows of the folk, the hunt-trails of the wild, and the paths of the dead. Threads of fate can be strengthened, knotted, cut, or mended, but never escaped entirely. Above the world hangs the Moon-Skein, where prophecies are woven; below it lies the Root-Crypt, where old oaths and buried grudges fester like eggs waiting to hatch.

A federation of priesthoods centered on twelve major shrines, each tending a civic function: law, hearth, war, memory, death, omens, roads, secrets, rule, growth, tyranny, and healing. Local councils are usually triune or fourfold, balancing a benevolent, an orderly, and a feared shrine. Annual synods settle disputes by web-lottery, oath duel, and prophecy reading, while heretical sects are rarely exterminated so much as absorbed, watched, or used as scapegoats.

The religion is organized as a multi-theocratic network of burrow-cities, each ruled by a different priesthood but all acknowledging the Web as a single sacred reality. Small communities typically keep shrines to Tinka, Kethra, and Bramblequill for daily survival, while courts and councils invoke Arachneon and Venatrix; frontier bands favor Thornmirth and Glintmire; and death-workers quietly serve Morvane or Morshade. Public worship is communal and ritualized, but private devotion often reflects family trade, local danger, and old grudges.

The faithful are spun into the Great Loom beneath the roots of the world: a vast silken undercity where valorous souls become lantern-bugs, guardians, or threadkeepers according to the deed-weight of their lives. The unworthy are caught in the Dark Tangle, stripped for use in the wars of the gods, or fed to the Widow Below. Ancestors may return as whispering strands in dream-webs, but only if named by blood and remembered by rite.