That Which Is Lonely
‘From afar, it leers,
Entirely alone in its togetherness.
For years upon years upon years,
It has grinned in its timelessness.
It has no one, yet needs none,
It’s mother dead by no hand known,
It looks to its father,
And sees naught but a withered crown.
Nothing.
Lonely.
Alone.
Solitary.
But it is still here, after all this time.
Just as you remember it.’
-A Prayer Spoken by a Friend, right before their inevitable demise in the forest. You do remember, don’t you?
There is spoken of, amongst the myriad magical colleges of Loa-Imidan, a path to true immortality. Lichdom, while appealing, condemns one to a lifetime of collecting fuel for your phylactery, and should you ever fall off doing so, you will not be given favourable treatment by the Kings of the Afterlife. And thus, we have ever searched for an alternative, not a half-measure that creates dread unlife, but true prolonging of life.
Curious. Very curious. A pity that my time should be now.
This text tells of a man named Telvaran U’Lorsix. He, like so many of us, sought the secret to unending existence, never to age or experience the cold embrace of the Sky Above. I have often wondered what comes afterwards, myself. Some speak of the Great Wheels, where we walk endless, powering the machines of the Kings as they float slowly towards their home far away in the Beyond, where green shores and purple trees kill each other at dawn. I went there once, long ago. Maybe.
Telvaran was one of the Good Lords of the Once-Free Kingdoms, kind in demeanour and terrible in anger, he slew 13 of the Drarik-Gon before taking the throne in Kil’gattan, the Ancient City of Demons. He wrested control from the previous owner, a Pit Lord named
It was a nice walk, as far as I remember. We were many that day, though we were oh so lonely. The trees stretched high above our heads, black and imposing, until we saw him. Or maybe we didn’t. But whether he was there or not is not important, for we felt him. I still feel him, right beside me, and it makes me feel so alone.
as he took the Black Sword Ulrathi, screaming as it sliced through his enemies with abandon. Yet even that could not stymie the ever-marching progress of time. And so one day, he left his last message, saying only one thing. ‘Goodbye’. And then he left, marking the first of the Good Lords to disappear from Fallen Earth. But as has surfaced since, it was not the end of his story.
I went slowly towards him, him with blue eyes and thousand miles in his hair. The others gasped in false horror. False, for I knew he was beautiful beyond anything else upon this earth. He offered solitude from my nightmares, and I gladly accepted. I have seen so much, friend. I am so tired. So very tired. I left it behind, all of it, and I became something more. Something far better than before. And I smiled, for I am so happy.
We will never truly know whether he achieved immortality through its help, for to see him is to break the spell. He is lonely, and he survives through the mystery. By giving up everything, he had everything to gain. But we must ask this question. Is an eternity alone worth it?
Hold now. Who wrote all that? I am sure no one else was in here to mess with my work. I will have to check. Probably some mischievous student. I will teach this fledgling wizard not to mess with Archmage Kul-Kashan!
Who was I before? I do not know. I am locked in my head, writing this small little addendum to his work. He was created so that I may be lonely. A quaint man, I have become since I left on that walk. But of course, he does not remember me, nor himself. A pity, indeed, but at least I have found something new for myself. Goodbye, Kul-Kashan. May our life be happy.
Lonely One
You have given yourself to That Which Is Lonely. Whatever you were before is of no consequence. Lock yourself away in your head, and let instinct take over.
Starting Equipment: A blindfold, a memento of an event you are no longer allowed to remember, a locked diary.
A: Locked Away, Ever Lonelier
B: Lonely Ritual
C: Fortress of Solitude
D: Total Isolation
At any point, a Lonely One may take a template in another class and have it count as the next Lonely One template for the purposes of ability uses.
A: Locked Away
You have gone through the Severance, a ritual which entirely cuts your consciousness off from reality and replacing it with a fabricated person, complete with their own fake memories and everything, all so that you can be entirely alone, and thus closer to That Which Is Lonely. You play as that fabricated person, who has no idea of the circumstances of their creation. The Referee determines who you were originally, keeping this information away. If you ever learn your old name again, you automatically lose all Lonely One Templates, since you are no longer alone. Once every year, your original self is permitted to take control of the body for no more than {Lonely One Templates} minutes.
A: Ever Lonelier
You may cut off your senses to gain extra abilities, however each one you cut off also gives you a drawback. The more alone you are, the more powerful you become. After cutting off a sense, you must wait 1d4 weeks before allowing yourself to bring them back.
Sense | Perk | Drawback |
Sight | Able to sense invisible creatures and magical signals. Immune to all gaze attacks and being frightened. | Cannot see normally. Penalty of 2 on all attack rolls and -2 AC. |
Hearing | Immune to all sound-based attacks and spells with verbal components. Cannot be stunned. | Cannot hear. Must roll twice to determine surprise against you and take whichever number would be worse. You cannot benefit from any sound-based abilities (bard songs and the like). |
Smell | Immune to gas attacks and any other smell-based attacks. Can breathe in airless environments, and can roll twice and take the higher number to avoid being choked. | Cannot smell. You have a penalty of 2 on all rolls to notice things around you, and must always roll to find or discover things. |
Touch | All damage taken is reduced by 2, and you do not fall unconscious after reaching 0 hit points. You deal +4 damage on a hit. | Cannot feel. You no longer keep track of your HP, instead the Referee does it for you, keeping the number a secret from you. Your allies must tell you if you seem very hurt, for you cannot feel it. All damage taken below 0HP counts as double for the purposes of all mechanics that track it. |
Taste | Without opening your mouth, you may mimic any voice you’ve heard and make it sound as if it is coming from somewhere within 200ft. Can communicate telepathically with entities within 100ft, not requiring a common language to understand and be understood. Once a connection is established, the creature may reply. | Cannot taste or speak. You cannot tell when you have been poisoned, and the Referee makes any poison saves for you in secret. Your dice to roll when you rest to regain hit points goes down by one step on this chain: 1d12, 1d10, 1d8, 1d6, 1d4. |
B: Lonely Ritual
You must spend at least 4 hours alone each day, or lose the perks from Ever Lonelier while keeping the drawbacks until you make up the lost time. If you sleep alone, you gain +2 health from the rest. You may perform a ritual to That Which Is Lonely during a rest, seeking guidance. You may ask {Lonely One templates} ‘yes or no’ questions to the emptiness. It will give an answer as honestly as it can, answer either ‘Yes’, ‘No’ or ‘Unclear’. If any of those would be misleading, they may give an answer of up to {Lonely One templates x 2} words in length.
You may replace one of these questions with a cry for help, asking for That Which Is Lonely’s help on one action that you specify. If that action occurs before the next time you perform the ritual, you may roll twice and take the better option.
C: Fortress of Solitude
You have a demiplane inside your head, with a radius of {Lonely One templates} miles from the centre, in a rough sphere. This may appear as you wish, with very few restrictions. At any point, you may start a 30 minute long ritual to enter inside along with up to {Lonely One templates} x 2 other creatures. You may place up to {carryweight x 2} of items inside this demiplane. Any items created inside the demiplane cannot be brought into the real world.
As an action once per day, you may make an attack roll against an enemy. On a hit, the enemy must succeed a save vs. teleportation or be forced into the demiplane for 1d6 hours. During this period, you can hear everything they say, and can talk to them.
Anyone killed inside the demiplane is instantly ejected and takes 1d6 psychic damage.
A nameless figure stalks the demiplane, constantly alone, trying to speak its name to anyone who listens, but can never manage to say it. If someone enters the demiplane who is actively antagonistic to you, there is a 10% chance that it will hunt them down and attack them.
D: Total Isolation
Once per day, if you have cut off all 5 senses, you may temporarily reach Apotheosis for {Lonely One Templates} rounds. For the duration, you lose all drawbacks and all numerical values in the perks are doubled. In addition, all hits are critical hits for the duration. However, when Apotheosis ends, you lose all the perks but regain the drawbacks for {Lonely One Templates} rounds. After that time period has ended, you go back to normal.
Who Were You Before?
1d20 | Identity |
1 | A scholar, scared of losing their knowledge forever. |
2 | A traveller from a faraway land, unable to return home. |
3 | A convict, atoning for heinous crimes they wished to forget. |
4 | A ruler deposed, escaping responsibilities. |
5 | A soldier in a bloody war, trying to forget the atrocities they witnessed. |
6 | A wizard, chased out of their village for consorting with demons. |
7 | A gang member, running from the wrath of their former allies. |
8 | A peasant farmer, drowning in the grief of their family’s death. |
9 | A ship’s captain, marooned on an island after a bloody mutiny. |
10 | An ex-cultist, attempting to forget the things they did in the name of their god. |
11 | A warrior, trying to forget the lives they’ve taken. |
12 | A scholar who learned far too much. |
13 | A hermit who wished to achieve ultimate enlightenment through solitude. |
14 | Someone who lost their one true love. |
15 | A cleric who failed in their god’s mission. |
16 | A hero who failed to fulfill the prophecy they were ordained to succeed in. |
17 | A street urchin, born into squalor, who never managed to wrest themselves from poverty’s iron grasp. |
18 | The bastard child of a ruler, scorned and forgotten. |
19 | A child born to a prostitute, thrown to the streets, never to know their parents. |
20 | They too had forgotten, long ago. |
Conclusion
We have all, at some point, wished to get away from everything, to be entirely alone. That is the paradise that That Which Is Lonely offers to its acolytes, to be locked away in your mind and replaced, so that you may wander the halls of your mind-fortress forever. What exactly that does to someone, none yet know, though it cannot be good.
Once again, I must say that this has been by no means playtested, so make adjustments as you must. Steal liberally and unapologetically, my friends, and godspeed to you all. And maybe don’t cut yourself off from everything, at least not in real life. Maybe do play this class.
