Hairnet of the God-King
The Hairnet of the God King is a secretive, intercontinental syndicate orchestrated by a man known only as The Hat — a visionary manipulator cloaked in legend, paranoia, and threads no one remembers being sewn. On the surface, the Hairnet is a rumor: whispers of false leaders, blurred memories, and replaced histories. Beneath the surface, it is an empire of control, stitched silently across the world.
Unlike other criminal networks, the Hairnet does not trade in gold or blood — it trades in presence, replacement, and pattern. It does not conquer cities — it covers them, tucking its agents beneath the skin of governments, religions, and economies until resistance unravels on its own.
The Hat, its elusive and unnerving creator, believes that progress is tailoring, not invention. That the world is not broken — it is simply wearing the wrong size. And so, through the Hairnet, he reshapes it: not with war, but with stitching. With patience. With silence. While the world watches for kings and conquerors, the Hairnet moves beneath perception, threading a new world into place — one where everything fits, and no one remembers how it used to feel.
“The world wears me now. It just hasn’t looked in the mirror yet.”
Structure
At its apex sits The Hat , also known as the God King. Once a mortal or something like one, he gazed into the Abyss the truth of the world and legends say he even spoke with the god of Undeath. This broke his mind and reshaped his vision. He now sees the world not as a throne to sit upon, but as a garment to wear. Below him are the Soilborn — four powerful extensions of himself crafted from Soil and divine residue. Each command one of the major continents:
- Albert, the Coat (The Continent of Grenias )
- Vasker Tren, the Belt (Crosela - The Winter Continent )
- Dagen, the Boots (The Continent of Brifux )
- Myre, the Scarf (Bracelita Archipelago )
They operate from afar, using proxy agents and loyal cults, while The Hat tightens his grip from Adheath.
The Hairnet is organized into concentric levels of loyalty and secrecy. The Threadhands are mid-tier leaders who govern specific cities, guilds, or cult cells under the Soilborn’s direction. Strands serve as field operatives: spies, assassins, forgers, and soilcrafters. Knots are embedded agents inside governments, temples, and academic institutions. Many are magically tethered or entirely unaware of their connection to the Hairnet, thanks to memory modification and the manipulations of the four leaders.
Culture
The organization values subtlety, permanence, and adaptability. Members speak in metaphors of cloth, thread, and tailoring. Betrayers are said to have been “cut from the pattern.” To be welcomed into the inner circle is to be “woven in.” Its aesthetic is consistent — muted fabrics, layered garments, and accessories that hide more than they show. Rituals are quiet, reflective, and often mimic sewing or weaving actions while chanting phrases about coverage, silence, and inevitability.
Public Agenda
Publicly, the Hairnet does not exist. In regions where it operates, it wears the face of merchant guilds, theater troupes, reconstruction efforts, and reformist religions. It preys on instability, sliding into places where power has fractured. The locals may not even know they serve the Hat until the moment they try to resist — and find themselves forgotten.
Behind its veils, the Hairnet seeks to replace gods, rewrite histories, and restructure identity. They manufacture loyalty, erase dangerous truths, and reframe dissent as madness. The Hat does not want worship — he wants inevitability. The ultimate future of the Hairnet is one where resistance is unthinkable because no one remembers a world without The Hat.
Assets
The Hairnet's most dangerous resource is Soil — a refined alchemical material made from the essence of souls. It is used to clone people, manipulate memory, and create relics that mimic divine properties. Each Soilborn possesses a unique artifact — the Coat, the Belt, the Boots, or the Scarf — that allows them to extend their influence over their assigned region. Additionally, clone chambers, quieted zones, and veiled trade routes support their network, smuggling knowledge and personnel without leaving records.
History
Almost twenty years ago, the lich Riament Grangerford was slain by the adventuring party known as the Funguys. His hidden research on a mysterious soul-based material called Soil was lost until it was discovered ten years ago by Lucid Killgore, a member of the adventuring group known as the Five Guys. Lucid was, at the time, a loyal agent of The Hat, and he delivered the Soil to Kixelts to be studied. When he later realized The Hat had manipulated his memories and forced him to kill his own brother, Lucid betrayed him. A confrontation ensued, but The Hat escaped.
The Soil was proven viable roughly eight years ago. It could replicate memory, create clones, and simulate divine connection. Using this knowledge, The Hat created the Soilborn and began implementing his grand design — the Hairnet. For the past seven years, the Soilborn have ruled from the shadows, each embedding their threads deeper into their assigned continents. Today, the Hat’s network spans the globe, coordinated from the rebuilding of Adheath.
“The scarf wraps. The belt binds. The boots forget. The coat replaces. The Hat… fits.”
“They don’t see it, you know. The loose threads. How they dangle. How they tangle. How they beg to be snipped. They walk around in rags, calling it history. Wear failure like a robe. Guilt like a cape. Pride like a sash they didn’t earn.”
He chuckles. Quiet. Like someone remembering a joke no one else was present for.
“They call it progress. Forward motion. Expansion. Invention. Enlightenment. I call it dragging a crooked hem across a dirty floor. Progress isn’t loud. It doesn’t shout. It whispers. Tugs. Threads itself through the seams. Tighter. Closer. Until you forget it was ever loose. You don’t fix a garment by breaking it. You pin it. Tuck it. Cut out what doesn’t fit!”
He spreads his hands, slowly, like revealing a finished suit.
“Lucky for everyone, I’ve taken your measurements already.”
Then softly, a smile behind the words as he tugs at the hat atop his head:
“One day, you’ll thank me for how well it all fits.”
Comments