Originally, Lurue WAS magic—before Julia Martin added the name “Weave” to my GenCon explanations
of ‘the great web of magic that’s everywhere in Toril, binds Toril together, and IS Toril,’ Lurue was the
embodiment of the Weave. As such, she could teleport without error or limit, through all barriers and
spells, was immune to all known magical [and psionic] effects, could raise dead, heal, regenerate and
restore with the touch of her horn—and also spew silver fire from it—and so on. Her very proximity
dispels illusions and curses, purifies and neutralizes poisons and taints, and purges diseases. And on and
on. [To the usual chorus of “Look, yet another all-powerful Greenwood munchkin!” I reply: Yes. Of
course. This is THE all-powerful goddess, and she’s also whimsical. We can’t understand why she does
what she does, so she can’t be controlled, or act like any sort of tyrannical munchkin, any more than a
mountain range or an ocean can be.] She tended to be as curious as a newborn babe, utterly fearless,
and kind to injured creatures. And yes, I tucked in the “patron of virgins, but can also make barren
wombs bear” folklore, too. Only virgins could ride her, and those who did got that silver hair the Chosen
who are Mystra’s daughters all share, and ‘wild talent’ innate magical abilities, and were marked for
special tasks and achievements all their lives.
The TSR designers quite rightly (given the humanocentric core of that version of AD&D, with its level and
power limits on non-humans) wanted human gods to be front and center and of the greatest power and
importance, so Mystra (most important to intelligent creatures trying to USE magic) became also the
Guardian or Mother of the Weave, and Lurue sort of . . . danced sideways. To become the awe-inspiring
mystery she is now.
