To Travel the Loom
“The first time is never intentional. The second time is rarely safe. By the third, you stop asking how—and start wondering why it let you back in.”
Most never leave the world they were woven into.
Some don't realise they have.
Fewer still return from the places they were not meant to reach.
Thread travel is not a science. It is not a spell. It is not—despite what the maids will tell you—a shortcut to glory. It is the act of being noticed by the Pattern, or worse, by something watching the Pattern. You do not choose to travel. You resonate. And the world changes shape to accommodate you.
This is not a gift.
It is permission. And permission can be revoked.
What Is Thread Travel?
Thread travel is the movement between Threadworlds—those narrative-anchored places formed from accumulated resonance. It is not teleportation. It is not divine intervention. It is the world bending in response to your Thread.
Most who cross never meant to. Some were pulled by accident. A few walked out of love, or guilt, or the kind of story that insists it isn't done with you yet.
Once crossed, a traveller is never quite the same. The Pattern has seen them now. And it doesn't unsee.
Ways Through the Loom
“There are many ways to leave a world. Very few involve doors.”
- Permanent Doors
Every Threadworld has at least one. Some have several. These are not always literal doors. They might be a pool, a crack in the wall, a song played in the right place at the wrong time. Some are stable. Most are not. They usually lead to the Inn. Occasionally, they lead elsewhere. - Astral Travel
The soul slips free. The body remains. Dangerous, unreliable, sometimes unintentional. This is not a journey through space, but through resonance—a brushing of the Tapestry Beyond, the frequency-field between dreams and Realms. Dreams are the most common doorway. Stay too long, and the world forgets which version of you is real. - Narrative Consensus
Sometimes, the story demands a new setting. When the Loom agrees, the world shifts. This can feel like destiny, fate, or terrible luck. - Magic
Spells, relics, rituals. Some mimic Doors. Others force them open. Always risky. Always watched. - Bad Luck
You tripped. You touched something you shouldn't. You said the right name at the wrong time. The Pattern blinked, and you were elsewhere.
What Is a Door?
A Door is not a door. Sometimes it is. Usually, it isn't.
The term "Door" refers to any metaphysical point where narrative pressure has made space flexible. A Door might be a hallway you forgot was there. A mirror. A ruined chapel. A scar.
Most Doors are fixed. Some shift. A few only open for those carrying the right kind of Thread.
To find a Door, you must not look for one. You must need one.
Threadwalkers
Threadwalkers are those rare individuals who not only survive travel between Threadworlds—they remember it. They carry so much resonance that the world cannot overwrite them.
Some arrive by accident. Others by inheritance. A few, like Tess or Lars, understand the process well enough to navigate it at will.
Not all patrons of the Inn are Threadwalkers. Some stumbled in once and never left. Some only know one Door. Others know several. Lars knows many—enough to navigate, rarely enough to volunteer. There are those who claim someone keeps a catalogue. If such a thing exists, it’s incomplete, deliberately misfiled, and annotated with warnings no one listens to. Access is not impossible. But it is rarely free.
Players become Threadwalkers when Tess offers them a Hearthstone after their first completed journey. This marks them as recognised by the Inn. From that point on, the Inn will always be findable—because they now belong.
Strong Threadwalkers are not subject to Narrative Drift when it concerns events, people, or places they are emotionally or thematically connected to. The Inn may shift around them, but it will not clean them up.
Threadwalkers often recognise one another, not by sight but by resonance. They feel it—a tension in the air, a line waiting to be written, a page already creased. They do not fit where they go. The world bends to make space.
Dangers of Travel
- Narrative Assimilation
Enter a world that demands a role, and it may try to give you one. If your resonance is weak, you may not notice until it's too late. - Memory Drift
The longer you stay, the more the original you fades. Even Threadwalkers aren't immune forever. - Thematic Friction
Some worlds resist you. Your Thread does not match. You will be rejected, or rewritten, or both. - Story Loops
Certain Threadworlds recycle moments until someone breaks the pattern. You may get trapped playing out someone else's ending. - Threadburn
Travel too often, too fast, and your Thread begins to fray. The Inn grows harder to find. So does the person you used to be. - Collision Events
When two Threadworlds brush too closely, the result is chaotic overlap—misremembered places, merged myths, and stories that contradict themselves until something breaks.
Myth and Resonance
Many of the greatest heroes, legends, and whispered gods were Threadwalkers. Their origins are forgotten. Their actions are not.
Worlds remember what they did, not who they were. This is not oversight. It is the Pattern tidying up. When a Threadwalker leaves, the world reshapes memory to fit the tale.
You may become one of those echoes. Or you may already be one.
At A Glance
What Is Thread Travel?
The act of crossing from one Threadworld to another—intentionally or not. You don’t walk. You resonate, and the world moves.
Doors Aren’t Doors
A Door might be a hallway, a mirror, a song, or something stranger. You don’t find them by looking. You find them by needing.
Methods of Travel
Permanent Doors. Astral projection. Narrative pull. Magic. Mistakes. The Pattern is generous with its chaos.
Who Are Threadwalkers?
Those who travel and remember. People with resonance strong enough to bend stories without being rewritten.
The Hearthstone
Given by Tess after your first journey. Marks you as belonging. Lets you always find the Inn again.
The Price of Walking
Memory loss. Identity drift. Worlds that reject you—or worse, make room. Travel leaves threads frayed, not untouched.
Becoming a Myth
The Pattern forgets names. Not actions. Many legends were Threadwalkers. You may already be one.
Author’s Note
(filed under, Wednesday night)
Player characters are what happens when a Thread walks in without asking and insists it’s part of the story now. They don’t follow the Pattern. They complicate it. Most Realms rewrite around them. The Inn gives them rooms. I try not to get attached.
The Pattern calls them disruptive. The rest of us call them “the reason the plot exploded on page three.”
Which is exactly where the story got interesting. The Pattern doesn’t like to admit this.
When is a door not a door...? When she is ajar. This riddle from the Dark Tower series stuck with me and this time it applies as well...fascinating. Like chosen from the Pattern... I need to get out of here xD
this world is basically an author trying to write stories before he forgets the details, burns out, or life gets in the way, basically me.
the players of my D&D campaign are the threadwalkers, those who like to de-rail my hard work.
Love the concept <3