In the beginning, Weirmonken was not such a dark place. Its beauty came in the lush and rich greens, the ghostly whites, and the vivid shades of a countless number of flowering plants. It was, in truth, a paradise like any outsider might think of such things. It was a place for softness and enjoyment, for laughter and song.
It was in this place that a great god/goddess/sorcerer(ess) ruled over the land from the Silverspire and this being's disciples and chosen people inhabited the various ruins that even today can be evidenced in the dark places of Weirmonken. But no great being ever lived that did not have its protectors, and this is where the Weir find their origins. They were the Knights of the people, the great guardians that kept the evil things of the world at bay. They were hunters in their leisure and the forests of the idyll paradise knew no greater master than these Knights.
Then something changed. None quite agree on what, only that the Weir turned their back on their masters. Some argue that the Weir helped topple their masters, others only that they failed in their duty. It is from this failure that the shifter's curse came upon the Knights, forever marking them as Weir. In their madness, paradise fell and the Weirmonken of today is left.
Only when the rightful rulers of Weirmonken return will paradise be once again in the grasp of the Weir. And only if they prove themselves worthy to hold it.
